A/N: Just a reminder, I own nothing! Unfortunately ;)
Their first few letters went back and forth so quickly, Hermione found herself becoming more and more anxious to receive a response as the days went by. Life went on as normal for her – wake up, go to work, make dinner, read, write a bit more in her weekly letters to the kids… but she couldn't make herself stop thinking about the man in London. It became a bit of an obsession, even she could admit it. Twice more she'd convinced herself she wanted a sandwich from the same bakery on Portobello Road to look for him, and twice she'd been disappointed in the lack of the man who resembled Severus.
She was sitting at her desk, head resting on her hand as she read through a proposal when the next letter arrived. She immediately lost her concentration on the task at hand and eagerly opened the message.
Ms. Granger;
M.B. stands for Miles Brighton. I trust that clears up any question of gender.
Docile is an accurate description. He never quite stood out – he did well at blending in and remaining a part of the crowd. Perhaps he wasn't quite sure how to act.
As I have revealed my name to you, it's only fair that you reveal to me if you are, in fact, the Hermione Granger whose name often graced the pages of The Daily Prophet all those years ago. Still close with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?
M.B.
Miles Brighton
After reading his words, Hermione paused a moment. Wasn't sure how to act? Did Miles know about his role in the battle? She'd have to find a way to delicately ask. A scene of Severus at the table during an Order meeting at Grimmauld Place played out in her mind; he always sat ramrod straight, hands folded before him. He also always wore an expressionless mask, other than a slight distaste when glancing in Remus's or Sirius's direction.
Frowning, she realized that she had noticed he didn't often make eye contact with the Order members. She wondered why that was. Suddenly, all these years later, her former Professor was a puzzling character and she wished she had known him better.
Mr. Brighton;
Pleased to meet you, it's a lovely name.
He remains such a puzzle to me. For whatever reason, I cannot stop my mind from questioning everything about him. He was a bit elusive, you see, and being pulled in a few different directions. Ultimately he made the right decisions and was released from his burdens. Did you know much about his professional life or otherwise?
I am indeed that Ms. Granger that you are thinking. That was a trying time, us all being teenagers and having barely escaped the battle with our lives, to be thrust into the media so heavily. But I am still very close with the boys.
In the spirit of introducing ourselves, might I ask where you practice your potions? Do you teach? Or sell, perhaps?
-Hermione
Ms. Granger;
That was a poorly hidden question about his role in the battle. I do know about his poor judgment and double crossing, though only through The Daily Prophet articles about him. I understand that he was mentioned at the service for the fallen – that must have been a terrible failure.
Well, The Daily Prophet has never been above exploitation. I can understand how at such a young age that would be difficult. Do I remember correctly seeing that you had married, as well?
I brew for Slug and Jiggers, as well as private clients.
What line of work are you in?
Miles Brighton
Mr. Brighton;
I must admit I am never one to be very good at subtlety. However, on the contrary, the service was beautiful and a few witches and wizards stood up and paid their respects for Severus. Though The Prophet made him out to be a villain, there are still many of us who consider him a hero.
You are correct; Ronald and I married just a couple years after the war.
I am the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry.
-Hermione Granger
MRS. WEASLEY
I have been addressing you incorrectly, it seems. Perhaps this is out of line, but I had imagined you'd have married Mr. Potter.
That must be quite a taxing occupation.
Miles Brighton
This went on for a few more weeks. They learned about each other which, in turn, helped Hermione a bit. Miles had worked in potions his whole life and while he had other hobbies and interests, this had always remained a passion of his. He enjoyed classical music, a good stiff drink before bed and was an avid reader.
The more Hermione learned about him, the more she wanted to know. His letters were less gruff as time went on and she enjoyed the conversation. She wasn't sure why she had kept writing him…perhaps it was just the lack of the children being around that made her want to seek conversation. One could never have too many companions, right?
Every year for Halloween, the foursome got together at Hermione and Ron's house for dinner, drinks, and often they made a weekend of it with Ginny and Harry staying in the guest room. This year would be no different. Hermione was making a pot roast and some rolls for dinner and Molly Weasley had sent along Harry's favorite desert earlier in the day.
"Hello?" Ginny's voice sounded from the entry way.
"In the kitchen!" Hermione called back. Ginny came bouncing into the kitchen with rosy cheeks and bright eyes.
"I just got back from watching the boys' Quidditch game." She said breathlessly.
"Oh! How did they do?"
"Won, of course. They are my children after all." Ginny boasted. Harry and Ron walked in from the living room just then.
"Your children? I suppose my superior Quidditch skills had nothing to do with their talent?" Harry asked with a twinkle in his eye. Ginny walked over to him and hugged his side.
"Oh, Harry. You know I could beat you any day of the week." With that, Harry threw his head back and laughed heartily, as Ginny planted a small kiss on his neck. Hermione looked over at Ron and smiled, amused. Ron lifted an eyebrow and shook his head – those two were hopelessly competitive when it came to Quidditch.
As soon as the food was all finished, they sat down and ate their fill, washing it down with some ale. Once they were finished, Hermione waved her wand to start the plates washing and they all moved into the living room for cards, chess and conversation.
Later that night, Hermione was tossing and turning in bed. Something was keeping her awake but she couldn't quite figure out what it was. Suddenly a noise at the window made her gasp. Ron bolted up and looked around.
"What was that?" He asked with wide eyes. Hermione stifled a giggle.
"It's just an owl, Ron. Go back to bed." Ron nodded sleepily and slide back under the covers, falling asleep instantly. Hermione crept over to the window and opened it, letting in the standard issue owl. He dropped a tattered letter into her hand and flew off importantly.
Who on earth would be writing her at this hour? She glanced over and saw that it was about three in the morning. Moving as quietly as possibly, she made her way down to the living room and opened it by the fire.
Hermione;
Do you mind if I call you Hermione? I don't wish to call you by your married name any longer. We've become closer than that, haven't we? Even if we haven't, I would like to call you by your first name.
In response to your last letter, no I do not have a family. My parents died several years ago and I never found someone to share my life with. I am a man who enjoys solitude but tonight is an exception. This evening finds me in a worn armchair next to a dying fire, glass of whiskey in my hand and a yearning for conversation; Hence my letter to you. Is it late? I'm not sure of the time.
Hermione's forehead wrinkled. His writing seemed odd. He was rambling more than usual and revealing quite a bit more than usual. And…what was that smell? She sniffed the air and then sniffed the letter, pulling it back abruptly from her face when she realized it smelled heavily of alcohol. He must've been very drunk when he wrote this. Taking a breath, she continued on.
We haven't been acquainted long, haven't even met face-to-face, but I find myself wishing you were here to chat with. I don't have many friends, probably because I'm not very good at it. Now that it occurs to me, why have you continued writing me? You got your answer that I didn't know this man's family or other information about him – you could have, and should have, ended all communication then. You still can, you know. I would understand.
Are you lonely as well?
-Miles
Hermione leaned back against the cushions and thought. Was she lonely? She thought about her mornings of Ron reading the paper as she read whatever book she was currently interested in, evenings spent on their own, how much she looked forward to the dates with Ginny and Harry and how much she missed the children. She wandered over to her desk and sat, absent mindedly picking up a quill and considering his question.
Dear Miles,
You may of course call me Hermione. I do indeed consider you a friend as you have continued to respond to my letters and introduced yourself to me over time. I like the man I am getting to know.
Am I lonely? Yes, I suppose I am.
Your friend,
Hermione
