The summer sun shone over the streets and Hermione beamed. Summer had to be the best of the four seasons and the weather never seemed to disappoint this witch. Unfortunately for her turning the corner did.
On this lovely morning she found herself intentionally looking for suspicious people, needing their help in purchasing dragon scales from a rare breed of dragon. It was its rareness that Hermione was betting on. The clashing magical properties of the two mated dragons resulted on a progeny whose scales caused a shocking ability to sustain the opposite. After extensive research, as not a lot of information was available since not many were aware of this effect, Hermione found the perfect use for the scales. The only problem was she did not have the scales; Hence turning the corner into a dark alley which blocked all sunlight. Sighing she inspected the alley as she donned the required full length cloak and pulled up her hood.
She was definitely in the right place. The alley had an ominous feel to it as she sensed dark magic in the air. The sides of the buildings that framed the narrow passage were covered in grim and the cobble stoned ground was uneven. Sensing danger Hermione reached under her cloak for her wand, feeling comforted by the contact.
Carefully making her way, she reached the dead end. Withdrawing her wand, she cast the correct spell and was suddenly greeted with a flash of emerald script. The beautifully handwritten statement sent shivers down her spine
Whatever you require, even your deepest, darkest desire.
Hermione did not know what to make of this. Was it supposed to be a promise that the store was capable of proving whatever was required? No mater how dark? Or was it… Before she could contemplate any further the script vanished and was replaced with a beautiful wooden door. Opening the door she came face to face with a scar. The only definitely recallable feature was the scar- a scar that seemed recent, deep and most certainly painful- and the black cloak on this man.
At least the identity concealing ward was effective.
The last thing Hermione wanted was to be on the cover of the Daily Prophet. She could just imagine Rita Skeeter's quill furiously scribbling, doing it's best to tarnish her reputation, the articles title already in her head: Hermione Granger, respected healer of
St. Mungo's, found consorting with Dark wizards.
Now would be the worst time for her respectability as a healer to be questioned. Being on the verge of creating a potion that could ease some aspects of memory loss and could even potentially lead to the cure! Well, the ward had just better work.
And it would work… as long as the full length cloak and hood remained your person- as long as they stayed on, the person's face would be vague, and impossibly unmemorable.
Readjusting her hood, she considers how to pass the scared man. It wouldn't do to have her back on someone so dangerous, and he did seem dangerous, but she didn't want to spend a second longer then she needed to here, and so she would have to move past him eventually.
Her concentration was interrupted when he said "Am I scary?" obviously having felt her steady gaze trained on him. A smirk could obviously be heard in his voice but, instead of creeping Hermione out, an unreasonable sense of familiarity washes over her, which she dismisses, continuing to be wary of the wizard.
"Are you trying to be?" Hermione replied
The wizard laughs, and she is surprised at how much she likes it.
"Well," Hermione says flustered "I have something to find…" and brushes passed him. Nodding to the man behind the counter, who she assumed worked there, she made her way to the back corner of the store where she was earlier informed that the scales would be located.
Thinking that this unnerving hunt for scales would have probably been easier had Charlie been contactable, Hermione sighs, and makes her way through the store. Soon that sigh becomes a smile as she thinks of Charlie's reaction when he comes home this Sunday. Unfortunately for said Weasley, he had no idea what waited for him at home. Molly had finally decided to take Charlie's single status as a challenge to her matchmaking abilities and had a list of potential girlfriends waiting for him. Knowing Charlie he would do whatever possible to stay away from a determined Molly Weasley and so all were ordered to keep her plans a secret.
Well, at least Charlie's single status was self inflicted. Hermione wished it was the same for her. She just couldn't trust every guy that came up to her; what, with being Harry Potter's best friend and the smartest witch of her year, only jerks who wanted their fifteen minutes of fame approached her.
Putting her non existent love life on the back burner, Hermione wondered if her favorite dragon tamer knew what was waiting for him at home, and if he would even show if he did.
Sighing, Hermione thinks of how out of touch they've become. The last time they were at the Burrow together had been two years ago and they've only kept in contact through occasional owls.
Thinking about their last time at the Burrow together Hermione is overcome by the memory, her mind going blank, focused on nothing other than remembering. All surroundings disappeared and she couldn't not pay absolute attention.
Flashback
"Hermione, dear, don't get up. I'll do them." said Molly.
"I can't possibly let you do the dishes after that delicious meal Mrs. Weasley" Hermione reassures her, directing meaningful glares at her friends who were lounging on the couch. With that she leaves to do the dishes.
Once in the kitchen she notices Charlie sleeping on the table with his head resting on his arm. The evening light entering through the kitchen window combined with the dragon tamer's gentle snores created a peaceful ambiance that Hermione hesitated to disturb. Unfortunately, having assured Mrs. Weasley that the dishes would be done, she got started on them the way Mrs. Weasley preferred-the muggle way. Hoping that Ron's ability to sleep through anything was hereditary, she turned the faucet on.
When she was done she sat down at the table, letting the peace of the room wash over her, and watched Charlie sleep, the noise from the living room fading into the background.
After awhile of gazing at his contented form, she focused on his face. The serene look on his usually jovial face made a warm feeling spread through Hermione's body. For some unfathomable reason she felt something for the sleeping Weasley. Before she could question her feelings any further, a lock of red hair obstructed her view. Reaching out to brush the lock of hair back, a pair of startlingly blue eyes opened.
"Hey." Charlie said groggily as Hermione withdrew her hand.
"Hey," hoping that he didn't notice she was watching him sleep, Hermione asked, "how was your nap?"
"Good," a smirk graced his face and his eyes glinted mischievously\knowingly "although the more important question here would be if you've seen something you like."
Hermione, looking at him questioningly before catching on that he did notice, thought she would tease him insteadof innocently acting flustered as he expected her to.
"Of course I have," Hermione replied seductively, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.
She was pleased to note his shocked expression.
Deciding to save him the surely impending heart attack, she sits back down and finishes, "You'd be daft to think otherwise. I mean you do remember I came home with a handful of shopping bags. If I hadn't seen something I liked then I spent a lot of money for nothing." Hermione was openly grinning by the end, Charlie quietly chuckling.
"Yeah, well, when you go shopping you do end up getting a lot more than you bargained for… certain unplanned for things catching your fancy and all." He replied, a smile still on his face.
With that Charlie got up to leave, messing Hermione's already bushy hair.
End of Flashback
Coming back to herself, Hermione looks around. Without noticing the trip, she found herself in the back corner, in front of a jar of scales. Unnerved by the powerful memory Hermione wants nothing more than to purchase the scales and leave as soon as possible. Whatever was going on, dark magic was definitely involved and another powerful memory would leave her defenseless.
Reaching for the scales she feels the presence of someone behind her. Immediately on alert, Hermione whirls around, wand at the ready and poised to attack.
"Oh, it's you." Hermione says dryly.
"Yes, it's me." the scared man replied, "Would you mind lowering your wand?" Hermione complied.
Never breaking eye contact, she grasped the jar of dragon scales and attempted to make her way around the stranger. Before she could pass he caught her arm-the one clutching the jar of scales with a death grip- and Hermione sent him a steely glare.
Unfortunately that was the last thing she could do before she lost control of herself, the skin contact sending pleasant and extremely uncalled shivers down her spine.
"Oh no you don't," he said unaware of the change in the young woman before him.
She found herself responding, "Oh yes I do," Without her brains permission.