I do not own Harry Potter. He belongs to Queen Rowling. Enjoy the story!
Chapter 1
The Cat's Eye Pub would be a bizarre place to find a witch or wizard from Great Britain. That's because this dive bar operates in a historic muggle community known as Fell's Point in Maryland, USA. The pub's teal painted exterior and white-accent windows distinctly poke out amongst the rest of the attached buildings lining the cobblestone street. And with the "Best Live Music in Baltimore" resonating in a vintage building with 32 beer taps, it isn't difficult to understand what draws people to this type of establishment. Tonight in particular feigned the interest of five individuals, including one witch and one wizard both from Great Britain.
The patrons talked amongst themselves as a jazz band's sultry brass sounds mingled melodically with a woman's voice. At the bar top, people sat shoulder-to-shoulder and attempted to relay their drink requests to the multi-tasking bartenders; hoping to find that satisfying boozy elixir to start, continue, and end the night with. As the evening dragged on, boisterous groups of people congregated around tables littered across the floor.
"Ha! Just admit it," shouted a pint-sized woman with raven black hair. Her caramel eyes sparkled with unshed tears from laughing; her cheeks and abdominal muscles ached with each escaping breath. "You had no clue what you were doing! Your respiratory rate wa-"
"Hey!" A short balding man with jade green eyes interjected as his finger sliced through the air and drunkenly pointed across the table towards the woman. "You spoke medical jargon! Take a drink, Mia." After spending the past couple of hours drinking, his heavy eyelids were straining to remain open to bear witness to Mia completing her punishment for breaking the rules of their drinking game.
The rest of the group snickered in response to Mia's slipup as she pouted and stared apologetically at the other woman seated with the rowdy bunch. Mia stumbled towards the empty seat beside the woman and stared with puppy dog eyes, desperately trying to maintain the other woman's gaze. Mia sat beside her and leaned in close; she gently cupped the woman's face and said, "P-p-ppp-pplllease don't make me dwink anymore. I pwomise not to do it again."
The entire table burst out into a roar of laughter at Mia's pitiful attempt to speak with a baby voice. Once the laughter died down the other woman hushed the two men from making any comments and turned her attention towards Mia. Unblinking, the woman stared intently into Mia's face and said, "Quentin is right, Mia." After a long pause, she continued, "Youuuu-uuu brooo-ooke theee-ee ru-uules."
Hermione Granger sang that phrase over and over as she slowly slid a glass full of beer towards Mia's hands. "Remember," she cried as she turned to face the rest of the group with beer in hand, accidentally spilling a bit on Mia during her twirl around. "Oops! Ha! I'm sorry, Mia." Hermione grabbed some napkins and began to dab Mia's shirt. Satisfied that her shirt showed some improvement, Hermione continued. "Remember…. the moment any one of us utters medical terminology…we must drink a full glass of beer."
"Ugh! You know my layman's terms can be nonexistent when it comes to respir- I mean breathing stuff," complained a defeated Mia. She gave Hermione the stink eye as her body swayed back and forth on her stool; her bloodshot eyes blinking forcefully to refocus on the glass full of golden lager awaiting her consumption.
"Sweetheart, stop your griping and just drink it already," exclaimed a man with honey brown hair sitting to Hermione's right. Mia stuck her tongue out at him in response to his support in destroying her liver.
As for the wizard, thanks to Polyjuice Potion , he sat at the bar top observing the exchanges between the group of friends as he remained unnoticed by the crowd and Hermione. His prominent features were altered because he deemed them too noteworthy and he would stick out like a sore thumb in this type of establishment. He also made sure to discreetly position himself with his line of sight giving him the best advantage to monitor the group and eavesdrop with Extendable Ears. After several hours of witnessing their buildup to this inebriated state, the wizard began to feel restless. He didn't know what it was he was looking for tonight, or why he should have even bothered to come to America, but he knew there was a possibility that something would present itself to explain Hermione's presence here; more specifically her presence in this point in time. Taking a swig from his drink, he began to think about previous events that brought him here tonight, "A muggle bar of all places," he thought cynically.
From what he had gathered these past five years, Hermione left the wizarding world sometime after graduating Hogwarts. She moved to Scotland and attended St. Andrews before transferring to John Hopkin's University in America to train as a medical doctor.
"And now the two magic folk are occupying the same bar on the same night at the same time. All because tonight marks the end of her training," brooded the wizard as he gulped down his drink and gestured simultaneously to the barkeep to bring another one.
The ending of her time at John Hopkins also signified the conclusion of her residency in America. And the three individuals Hermione wanted to spend her last hours with were hospital staff that worked long grueling hours alongside her in the ICU. She referred to them as "my homies." The woman with black hair is what her profession refers to as a Respiratory therapist. The balding man is called a Nurse Practitioner named Quentin. And the one sitting beside Hermione is a Pulmonologist named Dawson.
From the outside looking in, one would consider that this wizard was obsessed with Hermione. That for the past years he may have dreamt up an unhealthy pseudo relationship with her resulting in his continuance of stalking her. However, this wizard does not necessarily spend his days preoccupied with thoughts on Hermione nor what her life consists of at all times. Instead she was nothing to him, and he was nothing to her. What puzzled and intrigued him most was how she acquired her education.
Working with people in the Ministry allowed this wizard to enter and exit the building whenever he wanted. One ordinary day he was walking out of a fireplace when a conversation amongst two Order members walking ahead of him caught his attention.
"…been a hell of a ride. She loves America, Hermione feels she is receiving proper training," Ron Weasley loudly whispered to his father.
"Ssshhhhh! Not now, we'll finish this later tonight," Arthur shushed his son as he glanced around to see if anyone looked to have the slightest interest on their conversation. After a few seconds, father and son parted ways not realizing that they piqued the interest of a determined wizard.
Gathering information on Hermione was a simple task for the wizard. He lives comfortably and has a superfluous amount of funds to buy his needs and needs to know. Upon learning Hermione relocated to Maryland and was calling herself a "medical doctor", he dug a little deeper to find out what exactly a doctor is. And what he discovered surprised him: Hermione Granger had completed a four-year degree in just two years. He knew she was considered "the brightest witch of her age", but this kind of accomplishment seemed unattainable from wizarding standards. After considering the possibilities, he developed a theory. And he found himself to be considering this theory over and over tonight.
"No," he thought as he shook his head and picked up his rocks glass to take a sip of the fiery amber liquid, "there is no possible way she could have one. They were destroyed years ago."
Hermione suddenly stood from her seat and gestured towards the girl with black hair to follow her. They made their way towards the restroom as the two men sat closer together to talk with one another without yelling.
"How weird is it going to be not having Hermione here, man? I mean it hasn't sunk in yet, but alcohol is playing a big factor on my emotions right now and I'm getting pretty sad, dude," Quentin stated as he leaned into Dawson's side. He tilted his head against Dawson's broad shoulder and sighed pitifully as he sipped on a bitten straw poking out of a glass half-filled with blue liquid.
Unexpectedly Dawson turned towards Quentin, grabbed his shoulders with both hands, and held him forcefully in front of him. "It's gonna be really hard for me once she's gone, Quentin," admitted Dawson.
His eyes revealed a mix of fear, worry, and desperation as his furrowed brows intensified his admission of… love? Like? Dawson couldn't tell for sure what his feelings truly meant. But what he did know was that he cared about Hermione deeply, and her absence would cause his particularly selective heart to ache from loneliness and lost chances. After several seconds of staring into each other's blood shot eyes, Dawson's face turned into one of conviction and determination. "I'm gonna tell her tonight, Quentin. I NEED to tell her how I feel before she goes, right?" His conviction quickly replaced with hopeful despair as he slowly released Quentin from his grasp and lowered himself back into his stool. He plopped his elbows on the table and hung his head into his hands; inhaling and exhaling deeply as he thought about how he was going to pull off persuading Hermione to stay behind…for him.
"Dawson, I honestly have no clue. I mean I know Hermione, but I really don't know her, ya know? I know she's fierce when it comes to her job and she is a blast to be around with when it comes to hanging out outside of work. But when it comes to analyzing the inner workings of that intelligent woman's brain then I'm in for a loop. You know she never has spoken about her past. I don't even want to bring it up in fear that it's something that it is a touchy topic," replied Quentin. He placed his hand against Dawson's rounded back and attempted to console his friend with a few pats.
Dawson stopped listening to his friend for a while, and twirled a toothpick absentmindedly around his mouth as Quentin rambled on about the what if's on Hermione's past, "Worst case scenario is that she's a drug lord…but she's changed her ways…she's like Mother freakin' Theresa now!"
"What about Mother Theresa," asked Mia as she sat down beside Dawson and waved the waitress to their table. "Whatever, I am tapping out guys. I think my limit was reached about 3 beers ago. I'm out for the count."
"Yeah, I'm done too. I'm not getting any younger so you know what that means?" Quentin smiled expectantly at the group as they all simultaneously rolled their eyes. "Because…. I ain't as good as I once was. But I'm as good as I eveeeerrrr waaaaas," sang Quentin as he stumbled ungracefully back into his chair and smiled proudly at the group. "I love me some Toby Keith."
"Oh we know, Quentin," assured Hermione. As the time passed, the group began to grow smaller. It was Mia who left first. She made sure to hug Hermione tightly and provide her with every means of communication she could possibly supply to her. "Take care, Hermione. I am not saying goodbye though! It is never goodbye because I know we will see each other again. It's in our stars," Mia stated happily as she glanced up towards the ceiling and smiled optimistically. Quentin was next to leave. He managed to get Hermione to succumb to singing at least a verse of a Toby Keith song before he left her with well wishes and promises to keep in touch.
"Are you heading out already," Hermione asked Dawson as she sipped her glass of water. Dawson didn't want to leave as long as Hermione wanted to stay. Secretly, she didn't want to leave as long as Dawson wanted to stay, but she would never admit that.
"In a bit. I was just…I mean I needed to…awe shit." Dawson felt his nerves getting the best of him. Hermione laughed and placed her hand over his.
"How bout we take one last shot and call it a night," Hermione suggested as she gestured towards the waitress to stop by the table. "Just for old times' sake." The waitress returned to the table and Hermione ordered two shots of chilled Patron silver tequila with a salted rim and limes.
"Woooo! Bringing out the big guns now, huh? I got you, girl." The waitress exclaimed as she made her way to and from the bar carrying the drinks on a tray.
Dawson and Hermione both grabbed the shot glasses simultaneously and raised them up, eye to eye. "To new beginnings," Hermione raised her glass and with glossy, wispful eyes as she stared intently at Dawson.
"To new beginnings," Dawson repeated sensing that surge of courage escalating into impulsiveness. They clinked glasses and exclaimed "Cheers!" Guzzling down the smooth, yet intensely warm, drink.
"Here it goes," Dawson whispered to himself. Turning his squeaky stool towards Hermione, Dawson took a hold of her hands. He couldn't look up at her just yet. He didn't trust his eyes to tell a different story of what he claimed. He began to speak as he fiddled with Hermione's fingers in his own. "Hermione, I really enjoyed having you as a colleague. From the moment you made your presence known on our first day of orientation up until now, I can honestly say that I will never forget you." Dawson looked up at that moment and stared into Hermione's teary-eyed expression. With the tequila providing that liquid courage, he continued with his admission of having feelings for the brown-haired woman. "One reason has to do with my transition from Cardiology to Pulmonology. This was something a lot of people discouraged me from doing, but you supported me. You believed in me. Again, thank you for that. And even though you are leaving I want you to know that I will always be there for you. You have made an impact on my life and I cannot imagine you not continuing to be a part of it."
"Oh Dawson, I-"
"No, no. Please let me finish," Dawson interjected before he felt his bravery diminish. He inhaled deeply and counted to ten as he shut his eyes and willed himself to continue with what needed to be said. He contemplated for a second on how he could express himself. His emotions fighting a constant battle on what sounds right and what sounds meaningless. Finally, he opened his eyes said, "I adore you, Hermione. I have for a long time already. I really don't want you to go. I want you to change your mind about leaving and stay here. Stay here with me. I know we could make each other happy. I can make you happy."
Hermione looked away from Dawson and placed her hands on her lap. Seconds ticked away and Dawson awkwardly positioned himself on the stool as he expectantly looked at Hermione to say something. Anything.
"Oh god! What have I done?!" His eyes began to bulge after he contemplated the magnitude of his statement. And as a minute of silence passed between them, it dawned on Dawson what her answer was going to be.
"She's gonna say no."
Suddenly, Hermione swiped at a tear, cleared her throat, and looked up at Dawson with rosy cheeks, glistening eyes, and a heavy heart. "My dear Dawson," Hermione assured him as she brought her hand to gently stroke Dawson's cheek. "I am so fortunate to have you in my life. I never considered that this life would bring me someone like you. You're compassionate, humble, fiercely loyal, handsome, and full of integrity." Hermione cleared her throat and brought her hands to her lap. She looked down at her fingers fidgeting as she attempted to compose herself and build up the courage to admit to something. Something that she has kept to herself for a long, long time. Something that only very few people know back home. Hermione inhaled and exhaled a long deep breath. She looked up into Dawson's eyes and smiled. "These past years in America were some of the best years of my life. And it's because of you, Dawson. Earlier Mia mentioned that our paths would continue to cross because it's written in the stars. I never was interested in astrology or divination; honestly I think it's all rubbish. But if I were to believe in something of that nature, then I would agree that we are meant to continue crossing paths. This I am sure of."
Hermione grasped Dawson's hands into her own and rubbed her thumbs against the dorsum of his hand. "I would stay in America. And I want to say that I can see us being happy together." A croak escaped Hermione's voice as she thought of the "what ifs" had the circumstances been different. "If only I didn't have an obligation to the Ministry of Magic," she thought resentfully. "But it's just not written in our stars right now, Dawson. I have to go back to London. I'm expected to return."
"Ministry of what? Whatever…but do you want to go? Have you thought about what you want or what you need in order to be happy? What's so important in London that you have to leave immediately, anyway?" Exhausted with revealing his true feelings to someone he felt would offer their own in return, Dawson pulled at his hair and rubbed his hands through his face. "Hermione, I am here. I want this and it sounds like you want this, too."
"You barely even know me," Hermione countered as she tried to dissuade Dawson into continuing his pursuance of her.
"Yeah, but what I do know about you is that you're devoted, empathetic, beautiful, a damn near genius, and one of the best people I know. And besides you won't tell me anything else about you. I only know what you allow me to know. How is it fair to accuse me of not knowing anything about you when you won't even allow me the chance?"
Hermione's phone dinged, signaling the arrival of her Uber driver at the front of the bar. "Dawson, I care deeply about you. I always will. I couldn't have done any of this without you. But…I can't give you what you want. All I can offer is my friendship." Defeated, Hermione pleaded with tear-streaked cheeks and red swollen eyes to salvage whatever relationship would be left after her rejection of his affection.
Frustrated with how this conversation ended but relieved that the outcome resulted in a continuance of friendship, Dawson picked up Hermione's hand and brought it to his lips. With a gentle kiss Dawson replied, "I will always be there for you, Hermione. You can always count on me."
Dawson continued to hold onto Hermione's hand as he escorted her outside towards the Uber ride. Once they reached the vehicle they turned towards each other, eyes locked, and only the heat of their deep breathing filling the space between them.
"Well I guess this is it."
"I suppose so," agreed Hermione. Now what happened next overwhelmed not only Dawson, but Hermione, as well. She didn't know what made her do it, maybe it was that last shot of tequila, but she felt she owed it to Dawson. Especially since this may be one of the last times she would see him.
"Dawson," she paused for a second, allowing herself to second guess her actions. She went ahead and continued with her confession, just to see where her cards would fall. "I'm a witch. And I don't mean it in the sense that I'm a pagan and all that other nonsense. What I mean is that I'm an actual witch that works with wands, spells, and potions. I have been on a mission with the Ministry of Magic since I graduated from Hogwarts, the school where I learned about magic. I am required now to return home to discuss my findings with the people who sent me here to learn about muggle medical advancement and how we could intertwine our two cultures to improve the quality of care for the wizarding community." Hermione blurted out. She didn't understand how her word vomit could have helped the situation with Dawson, but deep down inside she felt he had to know the truth.
With a newfound rush of courage, Hermione reached up onto her tiptoes and placed her lips urgently against Dawson's. He instinctively embraced her into his arms and met her passion with an equally vigorous kiss. A fieriness rose into his chest and intensified as this public display of affection prolonged. Reluctantly, Hermione pushed Dawson away and climbed into the backseat of her Uber.
"A witch?" Dawson asked as she closed the door behind her and began to lower her window. With a radiant smile and glittery eyes, Hermione reached out for Dawson's hand one last time and held it in hers; memorizing the warmth of his smooth skin and how her fingers comfortably intertwined with his.
"I'll see you around, Dawson McKinney." And with those parting words, Hermione released his grasp and told the driver that she was ready to leave, looking into Dawson's eyes the entire time. As she pulled away, Dawson continued to watch her pull away until she turned at the first streetlight and was out of sight. He turned back into the bar and accidently ran into a man's shoulder as he was leaving the bar.
"Sorry, ma-," Dawson replied as he looked up to offer his apologies. But what Dawson saw next was something that made his stomach churn. The man's features were contorting into what could only be described as nodules bubbling under his skin.
"Sir! Are you okay? I'm a doctor-," Dawson offered genuinely as he began to triage the man.
"I'm fine!" The man yelled as he pushed Dawson away and began to run into the street. The man's hair suddenly began to streak into white platinum blonde and Dawson blinked his eyes in disbelief.
"Maybe I shouldn't have had that last tequila shot," Dawson thought as he noticed the man running straight into the harbor.
"Sir! Stop! Please, STOP!" Dawson ran towards the man as he began to climb over the guardrail. But by the time Dawson reached the rails the man had already jumped. With adrenaline rushing through his veins, Dawson didn't notice that a popping sound replaced what should have been a splash of water. He peered over into the harbor and searched frantically for any signs of the man. But the dark choppy waters disguised whatever was floating down in the cold murky waters. Dawson frantically pulled out his cellphone and began to call 911.
"What a night, " replied a flabbergasted Dawson as the dispatcher questioned his emergency.
Thousands of miles away, the wizard apparated back to his ornately decorated room and reveled in feeling the enchantments surrounding his home as he walked towards his full-length mirror. He welcomed the changes to his face as he observed the last signs of his disguise disappear. He gazed lovingly at himself once his familiar features began to take form. He offered himself a self-assured smile as he thought about all that he had heard and witnessed tonight.
"So the Ministry knows about Hermione. And they are implementing a muggle-wizard type of healthcare system, it seems." The wizard began to remove his clothing and change into his pajamas when he considered the impact of this progressive movement. With a flick of his wand, he removed the excess pillows on his side of the bed and pulled back the black satin sheets. His wife, sleeping soundly to his side, didn't stir as he made himself comfortable in the king-size bed. The wizard ever so carefully placed a gentle kiss to her temple and turned over to pretend to be lost in dreams.
Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is always welcome. -A