Review if you can. (: I worked hard on this.


Hermione woke up to a magickal alarm she had set the previous night. She wasn't sure when people around here started their days, but she knew she'd have to be up even earlier than that to get things started in the kitchens. She had a vague idea where they were, in the lower portion of the castle, where it's coolest and closest to the cellars, but she would still have to do some searching around. She got dressed and stashed her things away on her person, as she got the feeling she would have to be doing it just about every time she left her room. It was about 8:00 in the morning when she found the kitchens. She ended up being able to follow the sounds of metal pots clanging and loud shouts from a rather boisterous female voice. Which also meant she was probably late. When she walked in, the first thing she noticed is that all the kitchens were lined and connected to the storage units kind of like catacombs, and the rooms were crowded and everyone was rushing around.

I wonder if anyone ever gets used to this. She thought almost fearfully. She wasn't there long though before the source of the loud voice appeared right in front of her, and peered down on her with a hard, determined glare. The woman looked strained, as Hermione guessed she'd have to be, working all the obvious managerial roles in that place.

"And you are?" The woman asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Hermione Granger. I was sent here to work by Uther."

"Ahh yes! I was told that there would be a lass coming in to help me for a while. Good to finally see you." Her tone seemed to lighten up. "I'm Audrey, and you'll be working with the bakers today lass, there's a lot of baking to be done for the coming Imbolc festivities."

Imbolc. A celebration of the Old Religion. Those who celebrate it back home also call it St. Brighid's Day. But it was derived from this. Brighid is the Celtic Fire Goddess, patron of smithscraft, healing, midwifery, and poetry.. I've always loved these events, but now I get to finally see one celebrated traditionally. Hermione felt excited about being a part of such a beautiful event, and in the legendary kingdom of Camelot to boot. She was thinking happily about the things she knew she'd have to help make on her way over to the part of the kitchen the woman kindly directed her to when she heard a smash and a shout from where she had just came from,

"MERLIN!" Audrey roared from behind her.

"SORRY!" A familiar voice called back. Hermione whipped around, and burst out laughing. Merlin had knocked over a man who had been carrying clean dishes to put away, and luckily none of them were overly breakable. Merlin was slipping around trying to regain himself and help the man with the things he'd dropped. Merlin scrambled around a bit more before looking up a catching Hermione's eye. He saw her laughing at him, and scowled.

Why do I only ever mess up when she's around? Merlin deadpanned internally. He waved sheepishly. Hermione thought that he looked like he was about to walk over and say hello but the large woman running the kitchen had come to him and shoved a tray into his arms, snapping him out of his daze.

"-And be more careful next time!" Was all either had heard from the chef. Hermione assumed he was picking up Arthur's breakfast, and he had scurried out quickly to make sure it got there still warm. Hermione giggled and continued to make her way to the ovens. She spent her whole day kneading scone doe and baking poppy seed cakes and before the day was out her wrists were sore and her arms were stiff.

I really should work out more. I've never needed to work this hard, and it's embarrassing how useless I am.. Hermione pondered as she massaged her sore wrists as if they had just come out of shackles. She was about to leave, as most of the other workers had already for the evening, but she had been covering the cooled baking with wax paper to preserve it, something she'd done her whole life, but no one here seemed to. When she'd told them what it was used for she had started everyone on it. She had said,

"And don't cover them when they're still hot, or they'll sweat and get soggy overnight." When she had explained it to the others, they understood it, but were surprised at how she had come up with it. She had told them that it was not her who had conjured the idea, but that everyone did that sort of thing where she came from. They seemed to regard her more highly afterwards. She was just walking out the door when the Audrey called back to her and handed her a warm cardboard box.

"It's your payment." She replied to Hermione's wordless confusion. Hermione guessed it was her dinner.

"Will this be an everyday thing?" Hermione asked, tearing her gaze away from the steaming box in her hands. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until now.

"For the most part," the woman replied "Dinners only though, considering it's a chef's job to always test her product before she serves it to royalty." She winked. Hermione smiled, Audrey seemed like the kind of woman who was enjoyable to everyone, unless you got on her bad side. "I've given you a bit more today because tomorrow we will have to work extra hard, because of the Imbolc feast, and the chefs are also the hall decorators for these kinds of events." Hermione thought it sounded more like fun than anything.

"Well, thank you."

"Oh, and you were a bit late today, understandable, but about 30 minutes off of when I would have liked you to be here."

"I understand. I will be more prompt tomorrow." Hermione didn't have a problem with it, she just had no idea when she was supposed to be there.

"'Til tomorrow then!" Audrey said, waving, before Hermione walked back to her room.

Hermione reached her room without interruption, and immediately began devouring her food. Which, to her surprise, proved too much. She preserved it with magick, and stashed it away for tomorrow. Her evening was uneventful. She was too tired to tour the castle in search of the great Dragon, and Merlin didn't show up to visit. I don't know why I even expected him to. We're barely friends, and I'm sure he's got multitudes of other things to do for Arthur and.. what's-his-name.. Gaius. Right. But she missed not having company, considering there was nothing else to entertain herself with, and she found herself falling to sleep with a heavy heart.


The next morning she woke up uncannily early to bathe. She was doing the things she usually would have done back home, and found that she had never been more thankful to the inventor of deodorant. Who wasn't even alive yet. You never realize how valuable some things are to you until they become unavailable. She laughed.

After eating and brushing her teeth, she left. The day held so many potentials for her, her heart felt like it was going to explode. Festivals, dragons, friends, and watching history in the making. She was thinking over Arthurian legends on her way to the kitchens, and suddenly she gaped. I have not once since I got here laid eyes on the supposed future queen Guinevere. How remarkable, I thought she was the servant to-Oh,... Morgana's gone.. So where is Gwen, then? I should take a trip into the town later and see if I can spot her. Hermione became kind of nervous, and felt like it was almost her fault that history had been so disgruntled.

She arrived at the kitchens, and worked half her shift actually cooking, until the decoration crew and the cooking crew shifted jobs. Hermione spent her second half of the day decorating in the great feasting hall. It wasn't as enchanting as the one in Hogwarts, but the food was going to be damn near as good, and if Hermione had any say, she would make sure the decor met the standards.

Audrey stood most of the time in the middle of the room, judging the symmetry and elegance of the process, more so than she actually did anything. Hermione didn't mind, but she thought she had a lot to contribute to the design and couldn't help when she stepped down to assume a little leadership.

"Um, Audrey? Might I make a small contribution?" Audrey looked at her quizzically, but her unexpected knowledge of baking the previous day persuaded the head cook to let Hermione help manage the decoration. Hermione knew what she wanted to do already, she wouldn't have asked unless she had. She ordered a couple female servants to go fetch her a fist full of rosemary, peppermint, dog rose, lavender, and sage, fresh. And to pick the hips off of the dog rose plant, and keep them separate. She told another cook to go to the kitchen and fetch her a mortar and pestle, a small block of charcoal, and start boiling as much water as possible, in two separate pots. She had the remainder of the workers weave wreaths of white flowers and circlets of jasmine to adorn the women who would be attending the event, including the serving girls.

Audrey had blanched as Hermione started assuming complete control over the operation, and it wasn't because she disagreed with Hermione's ideas. The girl had an unearthly amount of knowledge and experience on the matter, and it frightened most people, but the enchanting setup Hermione was intending to create was already working. Anyone who entered the room and saw what was being done, became unusually pleasant and cheerful. As a result, the work got done very quickly, and without complaint. Vines of white flower filigree draped the tables, walls and the main entrance like a lattice, symbolizing the romance of the coming season. When the servants had returned with the herbs and the water had boiled, she ordered one of the pots to boil a lemon balm/chamomile tea, then chill and sweeten it, to save it for desert, and the other boil mashed rose hips, then have it filtered and sweetened as well. She mashed up the Rosemary, peppermint, dog rose, lavender, and sage in the mortar and pestle, until it was a paste, she added some jojoba oil, to make it sticky, before balling it, and smearing it on the charcoal block. She lit it on fire, like an incense, which filled the room with a light, mood relaxing smell. Lavender was supposed to relieve tension, and peppermint to calm the mind. She didn't burn it too long, because it was a strong scent. When she disposed of all the left overs, and tidied up the room, Hermione stood, arms crossed, and sighed. Satisfied with her efforts, she scanned over everything to make sure it was to her liking, before sending people off to set the main course, and call Uther, the royal guests, and everyone else to the hall.

Because of her effort Hermione was chosen as one of three assistant chef waiters to attend the actual hall feast to play servant to the king and his men, so Hermione could govern what the other servants were doing. There were kegs of hot rose hip tea and spiced wine at the back of the room, behind the thrones where the servants would refill their pitchers. Among the servants was Merlin, personal slave to the prince, and to Hermione's shock and relief, Guinevere. She discovered part way through dinner, that Arthur had offered her the place there, as Gwen no longer had a permanent job in the castle. She discovered that Gwen spent most of her time tending her father's forge after his passing in an attempt to stay financially afloat in Camelot.

Gwen was not as Hermione expected, her skin was more tanned and firm, she had more curled hair, and curved figure. Hermione snickered, At least Arthur has good taste. Hermione made it a personal goal to introduce herself to Guinevere when the shock at the appearance of the hall wore off and the conversation reached a dull roar. Everyone knew it was Hermione who had dictated the procedure of the setup, as chef Audrey had made a scene about it, telling everyone who entered and who would listen.

Hermione stood by Merlin, silently chatting it up, breaking only to refill a goblet here and there.

"How did you manage it, really?" He'd asked.

"I just worked a little magick." She winked at him. It was entirely true, and entirely fake at the same time. She used the magick of knowledge to complete it, and a little wizarding magick to tie it all together. Merlin looked at her longingly, as if he wished for the real answer, but wished for her words to be true at the same time.

"Well it's amazing, whatever you did." He said, blown away. "It's unrealistically hard to please Uther, much less impress him, and I think you've done both." They stared at Uther, who was alternating between devouring as much as possible, and making fun with the knights and Arthur. "Don't think he's been this happy since before his wife died." His voice had lowered to a whisper.

"It's an unfortunate world we live in, Merlin, sometimes all anyone needs is just a little break from reality." Hermione droned thoughtlessly. She was letting words flow from her mouth like water from a fountain. She was enchanted by her own design. Her eyes stared blankly into the distance, subtly enjoying the sounds of happiness and the smells of food around her. She was so encapsulated that she didn't realize Merlin's even more impressed stare beside her.

"You're a strange girl.. albeit very wise." He muttered. "You remind me of someone." Hermione snapped out of her stupor.

"Oh yeah? Who's that?" she chirped.

"And old, old.. old friend." he said before turning to her and laughing.

"The dragon?" she said casually.

Merlin blanched. "Wh-.. What?! How do you-?" His mouth ajar.

"... A hunch?"

"Oh yes! A hunch tells you that there's a dragon in Camelot." Merlin whispered as loud as he dare, now angry and confused, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, exactly, how do you know about the dragon under Camelot?"

Hermione sighed. It really was a hunch, but no one was EVER going to believe that, especially if they thought she was born and raised in this day and age. "I got curious, Merlin, that's all there is to say. I've never spoken with it, I didn't even know it could speak until now, I just.. Dragons aren't such a farfetched idea. They exist where I come from too." She surprised herself with the truthfullness of her own statement.

Merlin released his social death grip on Hermione, and resumed his normal position, facing the banquet table. He rushed over to fill Arthur's goblet at one point, and returned with a calmer mind.

"Are there really dragons in your realm?" He sighed.

"Indeed."

Merlin let the silence drop over them. The royals had finished eating, and servants came in to take the left overs away. Another batch of servants came in not five minutes later to adorn the tables with pumpkin pies, enormous trays of the poppy seed cakes Hermione made the previous day, sweet buns, the cold lemon balm/chamomile tea kegs at the back of the room, danishes with rose hip jam, sweet cream spreads and other pastries. They had executed it exactly how Hermione had instructed them, and she was feeling extremely proud when she went to switch her pitcher for one filled with the new beverage.

"Refresh my memory, you planned ALL of this?!" Merlin fawned.

Hermione beamed and nodded to him, smiling widely. "I mean, I planned it, but it was a group effort, really. The cooks were excellent, too."

"But still.." Merlin mumbled, looking over to the table, mouth watering... "Are you particularly tired?" He asked suddenly.

"No not really, not from just standing here. Why?" There was a small pause.

"Would you like to come speak to Kilgharrah, the Dragon, with me after this is all over?"

He asked that like it was a date. Hermione laughed.

"I'd love to."


The rest of the evening went by without delay, interruption or catastrophe. It was a dream-come-true for an event planner. Hermione successfully introduced herself to Guinevere, who seemed extremely friendly, and managed to receive special thanks from Arthur for everything she had done.

"I haven't seen my father like this in years." he had said, echoing Merlin slightly. "I believe it is finally helping him overcome the loss of Morgana." He said with a slight frown. But it was short lived as he asked her to pass on his personal thanks, on behalf of him and Uther, to everyone who participated in the making of things. Hermione agreed, flattered, and went to help clean up, and Audrey gave her two big cuts of all the left overs, which Hermione concluded she would share with Merlin. She crammed the boxes into her bag and ran to meet Merlin by the eastern stairwell to the caves under Camelot.

"Have you ever actually dealt with a dragon before?" Merlin inquired.

"Hmm.. No. But I've dealt with wyverns and thestrals, both are quite finicky." She smiled genuinely in his direction.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, "I have no idea what a thestral is, but I'll take your word for it."

"Oh they're a rather recluse species. One can only see them if one has seen death." It seemed to slip her mind that wars in Camelot had probably introduced death to most by probably quite a young age.

"Camelot has had many wars in the past. I've seen a few deaths, but still never a thestral."

Hermione was lost for words. Luckily, the action started, which disengaged her from the obligation of replying to him. There were some guards nearby, guarding the entrance way to the caves, and Hermione knew Merlin would have to use magick to knock them unconscious. She decided to support him in it.

"Can you deal with these? I'll go keep watch around the corner."

Merlin perked up. "Definitely."

Hermione scurried around the corner, and just stood there. She heard nothing but the sound of armored bodies hitting the floor, before she returned, pretending to look apprehensive.

She didn't question him on his methods, which surprised Merlin. They ran down the stone path, which was too narrow for two to walk abreast. Merlin wondered at how strange this girl was. How often did he meet someone that he thought he could introduce to Kilgharrah and not have them run fleeting in fear. The path opened up, and Hermione stood beside Merlin, at the edge of a steep crag that opened up into an enormous cave with stalagtites and stalagmites cropping out of everywhere. They stood there silently, and Merlin's heart was beating too quickly for his own safety.

"Kilgharrah?!" He half shouted into the chasm. He didn't need to yell, the cave already reverberated sound perfectly.

Within moments, big leathery wings beat at the wind in the cave, rustling the hairs of the companions. Merlin looked over to see an unexpected expression on Hermione's face. Her eyes gleamed with excitement at meeting a dragon for the first time. Especially one that could talk. She certainly is like no other lady. Merlin ogled. He was coming to admire her and her boldness. The wing-beating-sound got deafeningly loud, before Kilgharrah folded his wings and dropped onto the worn stone perch he used to speak with Merlin on more than one occasion.

"Who is this hatchling you bring, Merlin?" Kilgharrah mused, refraining from addressing Merlin as a warlock for the sake of his secret.

"This is Hermione, she seemed to know of you already, without me having to say anything, so I thought I'd take her here." Merlin replied.

"And what an honour it is." Hermione added with a curtsy.

If the dragon had an eyebrow, it would've been raised. "Well Merlin, it seems your taste in women has improved." Hermione laughed but Merlin winced. "I sense that you are not ordinary, however, young child. Tell me, from whence do you come?" Kilgharrah seemed amused by what Hermione would answer, as if he already knew what the truth was.

"I come from a land.. beyond the Five Kingdoms." She said warily.

"I do not think you are telling me the truth, hatchling, you definitely come from within the realm of the Five Kingdoms, but not from a time when it is recognized as such."

Hermione refused to look into Merlin's eyes.

"A time? Are you telling me that she comes from a different time?" Merlin said, aghast. "That's not possible, Kilgharrah."

"Ah but it is. And I sense your destiny has had a change of direction as well young.. Warlock." Kilgharrah let the word slowly, but purposefully slip from his scaly lips. His big amber eyes glanced down to Hermione, who looked guilty, but refused to lose the staring contest she was having with the dragon. Kilgharrah brought his head down and turned it, staring into Hermione's soul, with one big molten gold eye. His clear, secondary eye lid blinked at her. It was a battle she was not going to win.

"Kilgharrah.." Merlin whispered, his voice sounding embarrassed.

"Fear not, Merlin, it'll be nothing she doesn't already know." He said as he scrutinized Hermione further.

"You have altered the fate of Camelot, and ultimately Albion, little witch. History is taking a course it was originally not meant to take.. but I think.. You already know that." Kilgharrah's voice lowered into a menacing, conniving tone, but with elements of curiosity. It had succeeded in making Hermione feel small, and like an enormous burden at the same time. She felt ashamed. Ashamed that she had let things get out of hand, and that she had succumbed to enjoying herself instead of doing what was rightfully proper.

"I'm only human, great Dragon." She finally announced. "It cannot be undone, but if I can fix it, I swear that I will."

Merlin swallowed hard. Everything.. he had been living.. his own reality, in the grand scheme of things had just been told to him that it was wrong. That little chunk of history that his whole life existed in.. wasn't even running its natural course, and because of this girl, this witch, he'd grown to like. The concept was too big for him to conceive. Why hadn't Kilgharrah told him sooner so that he could make sure that this didn't happen? As if his thoughts had been heard, Kilgharrah spoke,

"There was nothing I could say to you, young warlock, that could have changed the course of history from what it already was doing. If your fate was to be altered, I had to let it run its path, so that I could inform you of your new purpose in this world. Albion is not doomed, Merlin." Kilgharrah's last sentence was spoken as he saw Merlin shaking, with his head down and his fists balled. "It still relies on you more than ever, but now," he paused,"the burden does not rest on your shoulders alone." the dragon spoke softly, and Merlin looked up. He shot a worried glance at Hermione before looking back up at Kilgharrah. "Arthur's fate rests in your hands." He seemingly gestured not only to Merlin, but to Hermione as well. "But there is still Uther, and as you know, young sorceress, he is not meant for this world. He stands in the way of Arthur's destiny, and if allowed to live, Arthur will not be able to fulfill the prophecy." Merlin appeared sad, Hermione knew it was because Arthur was supposed to die at Camlann. "Do not fret, hatchlings, as your destiny has changed, undoubtedly, so has Arthur's. I am only able to see so much, remember."

The mental fog was starting to clear for both Merlin and Hermione. Things started to seem within their grasp. Hermione suddenly remembered,

"But, Kilgharrah, it is to be such a long time from now until.. The prophecy is completed at Camlann" Hermione didn't want to give too much of it to Merlin. She didn't want to bias him.

"Alas, time is not an issue for you, is it, young one?" He mused. Hermione tensed.

"Yes but, didn't you say that Arthur's fate rests in both of our hands now? What would become of him if just up and disappeared for.. all that time."

"It is not quite as long as you think, little one. Remember, everything is changing. Thirty-two turns should get you there." He half winked, reminding Hermione of Dumbledore in third year. "I think Merlin can keep Arthur safe for the time being." Kilgharrah looked like he could have been smiling.

"Wait! How long would she be gone?" Merlin piped up, suddenly alarmed.

"A few years." Hermione answered.

"Years? What am I supposed to do without you?" Merlin folded his arms, before suddenly becoming flush, realizing what he just said. Hermione laughed and shook her head.

"Live on."


Their conversation droned on, Kilgharrah filling in some details, and Hermione finally revealing how she truly came to be in Camelot.


We were travelling.. trying desperately to stay moving, always out of the Dark Lord's reach as we tried to solve the mystery of the Horcruxes.. It was the morning of an early fall day, I was reading the Tales of the Beatle and the Bard on the craggy cliff face of a large mountain plateau, overlooking a deep rocky, untouched valley. The view was remarkable, the rock face was spotted with trees, wherever there was dirt. Some were deformed to accommodate the mountainside..

I looked back down at the book, and once again racked my brain for a potential source of the symbol I was seeing in the first page of the small, tattered children's' novel.

A triangle, with a line and a circle inside it..

It felt powerful, but it was just something I could not name. Harry suddenly came rushing out of the tent, a little gold ball in his hand, with renewed vigor written on his face. He jumped across the ragged surface of the cracked stone ground, and sat beside me, he opened his hand to reveal the golden Snitch to me, the one he had caught in his first year of Quiddich.

"-At first I had thought it would open at my touch, Snitches having flesh memories. But then I remembered, I didn't catch my first Snitch with my hand, I nearly swallowed it."

He proceeded to touch the enchanted golden game piece to his lips. When he pulled it away some words had formed on its surface.

"I open at the close." it had read.

I showed him what I had found in the Tales of the Beatle and the Bard, the symbol that had clearly been hand-inscribed and he told me that he'd remembered seeing the same thing on a necklace around Xenophilius Lovegood's neck at Bill and Fleur's wedding. We had just decided to go visit him, and perhaps make a trip to Godric's Hollow when a ridiculous thing happened.

"Well, at least it seems ridiculous now." Hermione interjected in the description of her arrival.

A swarm of wispy black blobs came billowing over the horizon, they were Death Eaters, undoubtedly, and there had to be at least 20 of them. One dropped down at the edge of a patch of trees where the large plateau ended and gave way to a more boreal landscape. He rolled up his sleeve and smiled, his yellow, crooked teeth clearly visible, even from that distance. He jabbed his wand into the slithering dark mark, tattooed like a concentration camp stamp in his arm. The sky darkened considerably, and a living cloud of smoke began to take the shape of a large skull, with a snake coming out of the mouth overhead. Fear gripped our hearts and threatened to stop them.

Merlin looked utterly horrified.

With a flick of a wand, the tent we had set collapsed in on itself, and shrunk to a manageable size, and I zapped it into my bag.

"I'll explain that later."

We had no idea what to do, nowhere to go. Harry had summoned his firebolt,

"A flying broom"

But it wouldn't get to where we were for a while longer. Harry took defensive position, wand out, and began to fire off protective spells, but it was no use. Over twenty Death Eaters.. I thought our quest had ended exactly at that moment. Voldemort had won, and it was over.

It was a peculiar sight though, when Buckbeak came flying off from another direction, dodging killing curses and deafening enemies with his cries, he came flying along the drop off from the cliff. Both Harry and I jumped off, trusting him to catch us, and he did. But he couldn't carry two for long. Harry's firebolt soon showed, and Harry leapt onto it. The Death Eaters soon gained on us though, and we had to split up. He flew towards Hogwarts, to be safe within its enchantments, which forced me to fly in the opposite direction, away from safety.

I thought we were done for. Most of the Death Eaters followed him, naturally, but I had a considerable amount still on my tail. I could think of only one thing, go back in time and distract them away from my past self.. It was risky but it seemed to be my only option. Buckbeak had lowered himself into the forest, to lose the Death Eaters. He was dodging trees frantically. I unclasped my timeturner and clasped it around both of us. I was turning it back by about an hour and a half when we collided with an enormous womping willow and I hit the timeturner into a rapid spin backwards in time.

Buckbeak took the most of the impact with his shoulder and chest, not breaking anything surprisingly, but probably resulting in the loud snapping sound you heard when I entered your time frame. The sound reverberated though time with me. Immediately, I removed the timeturner and put it away, but I wasn't even safe at that point. I saw a slender woman a ways back, black hair, black dress.

"Morgana.." Merlin barely breathed in response, his voice cracking with dryness.

And a blonde woman with her.

"Morgause.." He croaked again.

They were working magick, indefinitely; I could feel it in the air. Soon, the earth came to life, and bore a rocky, winged beast. Now, I could only assume that they were to create an army of them to attack Camelot, but I scared them out of it. She said something in an ancient language, and her eyes changed colour. Soon after the monster came for me, and I fled..


"You know everything after that.." Hermione said, suddenly hushed. The dragon seemed passive and thoughtful. Merlin was white as a sheet of parchment, and as still as a wooden post. There was a long, long pause as they had thought over what Hermione had just said. Merlin looked more fearful though, than thoughtful. Kilgharrah looked like he had reached some personal conclusion and was about to speak when Merlin jumped forth and clutched Hermione into a soul-crushing hug. He was distraught beyond belief, only understanding half of the vocabulary she had used, but horrified nonetheless. He felt for her, earnestly..

Hermione was surprised by the hug, but returned it, and relaxed in its comfort. It was a minute or so before the dragon discreetly and intentionally coughed, as much as a dragon could, so that things could progress.

"You're story.. Is ever-enlightening." He said slowly. "I almost fear now, that your fates have been conjoined because of your presence here, which ties Merlin to the issue in your time as well."

Surprisingly, Merlin seemed unphased. "I will do whatever I can to help."

Hermione was flattered, but worried for his safety. There were so many things he'd have to learn first of her time.. Kilgharrah sensed it and said.

"In due time, little witch. Remember, Merlin's story becomes legendary, for many years to come, he did not earn that title for no reason." The dragon radiated humour. Merlin however, seemed even more distressed, if possible.

"My story? Nobody alive even knows I am a warlock except you two, and Gaius. Not counting the Druids." Merlin half questioned.

"Remember, warlock, you are still young, much is to still happen in your life." Kilgharrah staunched Merlin's curiosity for the time being, him understanding full well that he could not divulge the secrets of the future to one destined to create it. He could not risk biasing Merlin.

"So what do we do now?" Hermione asked, solemn.

"Pay your dues to Camelot, so none become suspicious, remember you need to make a reappearance in approximately 3 years." Kilgharrah said.

"And so I'm just supposed to wait around for three years until Hermione shows up again?!" Merlin raged.

He's going to miss me. Hermione thought, trying not to laugh.

"Precisely." The dragon said, as if he had not registered Merlin's emotion. Dragons are so overly practical.. Merlin sighed and eventually consented. "It's late, hatchlings. You must retire. Return only in dire circumstances, and only once with Hermione before she makes the jump." Merlin nodded, noting his sudden tiredness. Kilgharrah flew off promptly, leaving Hermione and Merlin to their devices.

"You have some explaining to do when we have some more spare time." Merlin yawned.

It was contagious, and Hermione echoed his actions. "Yeah. Don't worry, we'll talk about it soon. Start planning and stuff." Her eyes began to droop.
Merlin walked her back to her room, and departed her after another long, heartfelt hug. He looked into her eyes like she'd be leaving the next day. He looked desperate, like he had something else to say, but didn't. His hands slid down her arms, to hold hers, as he backed away from her door. He said his farewells before strolling down the corridor to the stairs, without glancing back.