Silver Seas

Original by: belovedsoul

Rewritten by: Kat

Author's Note: This was originally written by belovedsoul; as far as I know, she still has the original posted under her profile with the same title: Silver Seas. About two years ago or maybe a little less, she gave me the opportunity and permission to rewrite and continue this story as she had little time to do so. So ... here is!

Summary: Mainly HG/DM w/ a hint of HP/GW; beginning: SS/HG; AU; slightly OOC; Set 7th year, demise of Voldemort 6th year; Starts 3 days before Graduation. Follow Draco and Hermione on their separate quests for love when Severus breaks Hermione's heart on their Graduation cruise.

:::Chapter 1:::

Leaving

“Harry, I’ll ask you one last time: Where did you get that book?” Hermione shuddered with anger.

“It was a gift! It’s not like I would ever buy something like that,” the Boy-Who-Lived defended himself. “Why does it matter? I probably won’t be using it anyway.”

“But don’t you see, Harry? It sets a principle, a precedent, if you will. All the boys at Hogwarts will want a copy, and the Room of Requirement won’t be safe to walk into anymore…” The bookworm shook her head in disgust, appearing to not like the mental image any more than she would like to see the visual.

“’Mione … we’re graduating in three days. When will we ever be back at Hogwarts anyway?” Harry walked over to his trunk and tossed another pair of socks over his many keepsakes. “Let’s just go and enjoy the cruise while we can, instead of worrying about eleven- and twelve-year-old boys hitting on eleven- and twelve-year-old girls, shall we?”

“Ugh. Harry!” Hermione groaned in frustration, thoroughly fed up with her best friend’s stubbornness. “Sure, Harry, why not? Why not just throw away the future of generations to come. Sounds like a lovely idea, doesn’t it?”

“Hermione, that’s not at all what I was playing at.” He tossed a jumper in with his socks and other clothes and sprinted up the stairs, Hermione quickly following.

“Then what were you playing at, Harry?” She found herself surrounded by sleeping boys, such as Ron and Seamus, and of course, Neville. Ron jumped awake and glared at her, covering himself up to his shoulders in blankets.

“Argh! Who let her up here?!” he shouted.

“I’m allowed up here, Ronald. Head Girl’s privilege.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Not like I haven’t seen it all before, Ron.” He had heard her, and blushed the same color as his hair, mumbling incoherent responses.

When he got full use of his tongue back, he exclaimed, “Get out of my dormitory, Granger! Snape might want you in his rooms, but I sure as hell don’t want you in mine.” With those words said, he rolled over, slapped his pillow over his head, and fell back into a deep sleep. Snoring.

“Well,” Hermione sniffed, “How rude!”

“You should have seen it coming, ‘Mione,” Harry chuckled, picking up one last trinket from his nightstand. “We’ve all seen how grouchy he is in the morning.”

“But Harry! It’s noon!”

“I. Don’t. Care! Get out o’ my room!” Ron barked.

“Ronald Weasley! How dare you talk to me like that?!”

“What are you, my mum? Piss off!”

“Seems you’ve taken quite a liking to that phrase, haven’t you, Ronald? You’ve been saying it quite a lot lately.”

“At least I don’t write it all over my Potions notebooks like you do for a certain Bat’s name!”

“Nothing like a midday argument, is there, Neville?” Harry asked. Neville shook his head, grabbed his jumper from his bedpost, and, after putting it on, went downstairs to the common room, to where both boys found Ginny had retreated.

“Hi, Neville,” Ginny greeted. She glanced at Harry briefly and nodded her head. He returned the gesture and put his hands in his pockets, looking around the room, attempting, quite hard, to appear nonchalant.

“Hello, Ginny. Nice day, eh?” Neville responded.

“Lovely. If only my brother would shut up …”

“It’s all Hermione’s doing. She had to race up there after Harry and wake all of us. At least one of the boys has the guts to stick up to her …”

“Since when do you dislike Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Since she disturbed my sleep this morning. Would either of you mind if I continued my sleep on the couch here?” Neville solicited, standing by said couch.

“No, Neville, of course we wouldn’t.”

“Go right ahead, mate.”

“Thanks, guys. Could you tell them to keep it quiet up there?”

“I’ll just conjure a pair of earmuffs for you,” Harry smiled, transfiguring the pillow on a chair into an actual pair of earmuffs. He handed them to Neville, who put them on and mumbled a, “Thanks,” through a yawn, and laid down to sleep.

“He falls asleep easily, doesn’t he?”

“Mm,” Ginny murmured, returning her attention to watching the fire.

“Gin,” Harry moaned.

“Hm?”

“We have to talk …”

“Oh?”

“And you need to give me more than one-word answers.”

“I see.”

“Ginny!”

“What!? What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“I want us to be friends again …”

“We dated for six months, Harry, and then you dumped me. For as genuine and accurate reasons as they were, it still hurt and I’m not over it yet.”

“You’ve spent an entire year moping about this!”

“No, I haven’t moped; I merely didn’t go searching for love, which by the way , appears to be the only thing on your mind.” Ginny reached for Harry’s book and held it up. “I flipped through it; interesting topics, I must say.” She smiled a dark grin at him, her eyes sparkling through her glare.

“Ginny, I didn’t buy that for myself.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. A … friend … got it for me.”

“Who? Who would get such a disgusting book?”

“I can’t say. I’m sorry.”

“And you want me to believe you? Slick, Golden Boy, real slick.” Ouch, Harry thought, that left a bit of a mark …

The Dark Lord was, indeed, dead, and Harry was again believed to be the Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived, only on a higher level. A much higher level. After months of tracking down the four remaining Horcruxes, Harry and his friends, including Ginny, traced Lord Voldemort and succeeded in destroying him and his many accomplices. It had been a long and emotional trek for Harry, as he had been forced to delve deep down into his memory, of Dumbledore’s memories, to solve the many puzzles surrounding the Horcruxes’ mysteries.

Directly after Voldemort and his power fell, Harry’s knees had buckled and caused him to collapse. Not from pain, nor fear, he began to sob, continuing on and on to those surrounding him in muddled speech and components that not even Hermione could translate into common and understandable terms.

Harry was soon pronounced terminally insane.

Three days later, after the majority of Harry’s friends had visited him at St. Beatrice’s, a highly revered Mental Institution in Aberdeen, Ginny had snuck in to see him, to take after him, and to help him get better. She had been doing this for all three days, watching him struggle to speak, to stay awake, and to merely function at all.

Although Harry had broken up with her a few months prior to their Seventh Year at Hogwarts, it was only halfway through the term, and Ginny was terrified of losing the only boy she really had ever loved. Because of her intense and constant worry that something else terrible would happen, she had stolen Harry’s invisibility cloak, sitting by his bed day and night, and had held his hand as he slept.

They had connected in a way no one else would ever be able to understand.

Harry, of course, had not been terminally insane, as was easily discovered when he and Ginny were found in a compromising position, at least for someone who had just been declared brain dead. “And this position was?” you ask?

He was laughing and talking with her like he always had before. No sex, no kissing, no touching.

But it was surprising for the medi- wizards and witches who walked in. They performed several tests on him, and found that a counter spell had been cast on him by an odd member of the Order, Severus Snape, who was later found with Hermione Granger by midnight that same evening. They were, for the record, still courting, although most meetings were late at night, and only once or twice a month. In the dungeons. Alone.

“It was for his own good,” Snape had told the Wizarding Press when interrogated later. “Without the spell, he would have died.”

To their later question of why the Golden Boy would have died, he had supplied the simple answer of, “Because the memory works in mysterious ways, and bellowing his emotions across the Hogwarts Grounds, regardless of previous happenings, would have caused him such emotional pain that he would have destroyed himself.”

Harry and Ginny, with their friends, had been escorted by Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where they had been welcomed into the school with open arms and had enjoyed a memorial feast with their loved ones.

And then the seriousness came, which brings us back to the present date and time.

“What?” Harry whispered, shocked at Ginny’s biting sarcasm.

“You heard me. Do you honestly expect me to take it back?” Harry just gazed at her, lacking the words to retort. “Yeah, Harry, you’ve got all the fame and fortune you want now. You saved an entire community from a wizard of evil.” Ginny twirled her index finger in the air obnoxiously. “Whoop-dee-frickin’-doo.”

“Ginny! Stop talking like this; you’re working yourself into a fit,” Harry scolded half-heartedly. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You got into me once. Remember that? Oh wait. That was way before you were known world-wide again for the demise of big-bad-Voldee,” Ginny sneered. Harry felt slightly nauseous, remembering the one Christmas celebration of exactly a year ago. “Goodness me! I should be in Azkaban right now, shouldn’t I? Disrespecting the Golden Boy … Tsk, tsk.”

Both stood in silence, tension building with each second that passed. Their heads snapped around when Ron came banging down the stairs with his trunk.

“Oy! What’s all the yellin’ about?” he yelled. “We’re going off on a trip! A trip that dad and mum don’t have to pay for! This should be the happiest day of … your … lives …” Ron began excitedly, trailing off at the end due to the daggers Ginny’s glare was shooting at him. “Bloody hell, you two need to get some psychiatric help.”

“Ronald!” Hermione shouted from behind him. “Don’t say such a thing! And to think you would say that to Harry of all people.”

“Oops … I suppose my foot’s in my mouth already once today …” Ron mumbled, terrified realization smothering his face. “Sorry, mate.”

“It’s fine, Ron.” Harry glanced at Ginny, then at Hermione, and then, finally, on his trunk. “I have to finish packing. Excuse me.” He shuffled by his friends and waved his wand once, emptying his trunk onto the couch carefully.

“Ginny, what happened?” Ron muttered to his sister quietly. “He was in such a good mood and then -wham!- He’s all melancholy …”

“Shit happens, Ronald,” Ginny hissed, spinning on her heel and stalking out of the Portrait entrance of the Common Room.

“Whoa …” Hermione commented. “That was so unlike Ginny!”

“Well … you’re a girl.”

“We went over this Fourth Year. You’re point would be …?”

“No! Not at all like that.”

“Then what do you mean, Ronald?” Hermione requested impatiently. “I have to finish packing; we leave in an hour!”

“I know, Hermione, I know. I need you to go find out what happened between Ginny and Harry before we walked in. I have a feeling about what was going on, but I’m not sure and I’d rather know for certain rather than to just assume I know all.”

“Oh? When did you have this revelation, Ron?”

“I didn’t,” Ron said, furrowing his eyebrows in a confused manner. “What are you talking about, ‘Mione?”

“Never mind,” came Hermione’s exasperated sigh before the girl stalked from the room herself in Ginny’s tracks.

xxx

“Oomf,” Hermione said. The wind was thrown out of her as she hit something tall and thin. Did I seriously just run into a pole? Oh, how humiliating! Looking around, she realized she was on the floor, and looked up when a long, pale finger poked her shoulder.

“Malfoy,” she said curtly.

“Granger,” he told her in the same manner.

“What’s wrong, Malfoy? Not going to snarl at me to watch where I’m heading next time?”

“Whatever.” The boy stalked off as Professor McGonagall’s voice blared through the school.

“Sixth and Seventh year students:

“Please report to your common rooms immediately, where your Head of House will hand out group sheets, money, and travel brochures.

“I repeat, Sixth and Seventh Years, please report to your common rooms as soon as possible. Thank you.”

Hermione spun around. I guess Ginny will just have to wait, she thought, hurrying off to the Gryffindor Common Room.

When she arrived, she met up with Harry and Ron, who were whispering madly in the corner by a window. Professor McGonagall was standing by the great fireplace holding a stack of papers. How in the world did she get up here so quickly?

“Now that you’re all here,” she began, eyeing Hermione, “I have some quick announcements before I hand out your groups.

“These groups should end up being like your family. You are to eat together, go places together, and sleep together,” the teacher instructed, ignoring the chortles and snickers among the Gryffindor boys, namely Seamus, Ron, and Lee.

“Furthermore, the groups are made up of eight students; there are a boy and a girl from each House.”

“Wait,” Neville said, raising his hand, “So that means we have to share a cabin with Slytherins?!”

“Yes, Mr. Longbottom, that is exactly what it means.” Casting a fleeting look around the room, she asked, “Any more questions?” Everyone shook their heads and the professor began speaking again.

“All needed information is on these sheets, but if you lose one, your group members all have the same sheet, so share with them.

“Likewise, there are maps throughout the ship, and therefore you should use them accordingly. We do not need anyone getting lost on this trip.”

“Yeah, Neville, use the maps, mate!” Dean joked, elbowing his friend in the ribs. “Just kidding, pal,” he added when Neville began to blush furiously. While Dean comforted his friend, McGonagall continued:

“Now, going back to the groups; I understand that Gryffindor House has always had a kind of rivalry with Slytherin House. Please, I want you to try your hardest to get along with them. You have gone to school with them for seven years; do try to make it all worthwhile. Who knows; you just might make a friend.” She began calling names, and Hermione walked over to Harry and Ron.

“Well, I found out what happened,” Ron commented, staring at his hands. “Harry, why don’t you just ignore it? Just let it be for a while, wouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t think she was that upset about it, Ron! Merlin, why is it always my fault? Doesn’t anyone know what I’ve been through-”

“-These last few months? Yeah, Harry, I think we’ve figured that one out.” Harry glared at Hermione, but she stumbled on, “I think you need to let go of the past, of what’s recently happened, and live your life for today and tomorrow. You can’t change what happened between you and Ginny … but you can change what happens between you two.”

“That didn’t make any sense, ‘Mione.”

“Harry, what I meant was-”

“No, Hermione, just leave it. Thanks for the help … but no thanks.” Harry stood and walked over to McGonagall to retrieve his group list and travel brochures, and Ron and Hermione saw him refuse the money she was so keen on giving him. When he walked back, they could see something new shimmering in his eyes; not new per say, but something they hadn’t seen in his expression for quite a while.

“You alright, Harry?” Ron inquired. She could tell he was still angry, what with his baby sister and best friend fighting, but Hermione knew it would pass.

“Well, lucky me, I don’t have any of you in my group,” Harry said glumly when he returned.

“Who do you have?”

“‘Mr. Potter,’” Harry imitated, “‘Professors Snape, McGonagall, Lupin, Sprout, and Flitwick would like to congratulate you on your success of completing Seventh Year with High Honours. During your stay aboard Mystical Magic, the ship upon which you will be staying, you will be boarding with the seven following passengers:

“‘Luna Lovegood, Anthony Goldstein, Vincent Crabbe, Pansy Parkinson, Ernie Macmillan, Laura Madley, Ginny Weasley.’”

“Good luck, mate,” Neville said, coming up behind them. “I’ve got a pretty okay list; I’m with you, Hermione.”

“Oh? Who else?”

“Padma, Terry, Justin ... Who’s Megan Jones?” he asked, looking up. “I’ve never heard of her.”

“I think she was in my Arithmancy class … I guess we’ll get to know her better, right?” Hermione offered. “Who else? We‘re left with Slytherin, aren‘t we?”

“Erm … yes …”

“Who?”

Neville squirmed uncomfortably. “Er … Daphne Greengrass and … well …”

“Who, Neville? Just say it. The only person who could ruin the trip would be Malfoy, anyway.”

“Well, Hermione, I guess you nailed that one on the head.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“No. Read it and weep,” Neville replied, shoving the sheet at them.

Harry and Ron, who had just gone up to retrieve his own sheet and didn’t appear to be listening to the conversation, were huddled over their papers, whispering again.

“And who do you have, Ronald?” Hermione said, tossing Neville’s paper back at the boy, and snatching Ron’s.

“Oy! Give it back, Granger!” Ron cried, turning a bright shade of red, orange enough to match his hair, but pink enough to clash with it.

“Why? Ooh, does Wonny have to bunk with someone he doesn’t want me to know about? Hmmm, tempting!” Hermione teased, swatting Ron’s reaching hands away.

“Hermione, it’s not a big deal … just give back the paper!”

“No, not until I read it.” And so the war began.

“Granger!” he bellowed.

“My, my, we have turned into a Malfoy lately, haven’t we?”

“Shut your mouth, Hermione, I mean it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and began reading. “‘Mr. Weasley: Professors Snape, McGonagall, Lupin, Sprout, and Flitwick would like to congratulate you on your success of completing Seventh Year with Outstanding Achievement. During your stay aboard Mystical Magic, the ship upon which you will be staying, you will be boarding with the seven following passengers:

“‘Eleanor Branstone.’ Ooh, have a wittle cwush on Ellie, Wonny?” she joked.

“Argh! No, Hermione, you’d know if I did.”

“Okay then, moving down the list- ‘Owen Cauldwell.’ Oh, is there something you’d like to bring out of your closet?”

“Say it a bit louder, why don’t you? I don’t think the people in the States heard you,” he snapped.

“Apparently not. ‘Michael Corner …’ Ah-hah, here it is- ‘Mandy Brocklehurst.’ She’s a looker, isn’t she, Neville?” Neville nodded timidly, sensing Ron’s rising anger.

“No, she’s not. I mean, she is, but she isn’t. Not to me. I mean … she’s pretty and all and really nice, but I don’t like her like that. Okay, so she’s a possibility, but-” Ron mumbled.

“Ronald, stuff it for a moment. I’m sure you don’t want Millicent Bulstrode … or Goyle, I’m sure …” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she read the last name on the list. Ron seemed to perceive who’s name she was focused on and turned an even more brilliant shade, only more of a fuchsia.

“Oh, Merlin, Ron … it’s Lav-” Ron’s hand quickly found its way to her mouth, blocking the path of the rest of the girl’s name.

“Yes, Hermione,” he hissed, “it is. Thank you very much for so ever kindly broadcasting it to the entire Gryffindor House.” Ron gave her one last glare and whipped around, going to sit next to his sister, who had just walked in. Her eyes were puffy, Hermione noticed; she had obviously been crying. Harry had obviously seen, too, and was now staring at her with his big, sympathetic, green eyes.

“So, Harry … what’s the first stop on the cruise?” Hermione asked, rolling her eyes and picking up a travel pamphlet.

“Huh?” Harry jumped out of his thoughts, literally jerking into the air. “Oh … uh … Iceland, I think the pamphlet thing said.”

“Oh, joy … Good thing I brought extra sweaters.”

“Attention students,” Professor McGonagall summoned the Gryffindor students’ focus, “We are now exitting the building. Please gather your belongings and meet in the Great Hall within ten to fifteen minutes. From there, you will be escorted by Professor Snape or myself to a carriage, where your baggage will be awaiting you.” With her announcement stated, the woman glanced nervously around the room and left. Hermione knew what she was worried about: the full Seventh Year and most of the Sixth Year were going on a cruise. Sometimes across the sea. And more importantly, as witches and wizards who had recently come of age.

How terrifying it must be … to think, we’re like her own children … and she finally has to let go.

“Well … let’s get a move on, shall we? If we want a good carriage we’d might as well get down there,” Hermione urged, levitating her trunk and grabbing her other bags.

Won’t this be an experience to remember …

xxx

Author's Note: If any of you have any ideas about places for the cruise to go, please tell me. The cruise will probably be a 1-2 month trek (Oh, I know, it's a long time, but hang with me here) with sojourns to different places that last a week, and then a three days-to-a-week to get to the next destination. All in all, they will really only be able to go to four or five places, maybe six depending on the distance. So please ... interesting places!!!!
Hugsnkisses -Kat