A Glimpse of Us
Hermione finally came to a stop when she reached her favorite spot for breakfast. They served both smoothies and açaí bowls, and Hermione absolutely loved the owners. She tried to come here every day, and all of the workers who had the morning shift knew her order. It wasn’t surprising, seeing as she had been coming here for nearly five years. Today, Maria was working the front counter.
“Hermione, mi cariño! How are you today?” Maria immediately came out from behind her counter to embrace her while calling for her husband, Sebastián, to come quickly.
“Hola, Mamá.” Hermione was engulfed in a big hug between the couple. “Hola, Papá. How’s business?”
“Better now that we’ve gotten to see our favorite customer,” Sebastián said as he and his wife released her. Hermione grinned. Maria and Sebastián owned this little shop. Originally, they were from Ecuador, but when they had honeymooned here in London, they were appalled at the lack of authentic açaí bowls and well prepared smoothies. They immediately packed up their family and moved them all into London, where they knew they would get good business. That had been nearly thirty years ago, and the couple showed no signs of wanting to retire anytime soon.
She winked conspiratorially. “You know I can’t go too long without seeing you. Besides, where else would I get an absurdly large açaí bowl and a smoothie for only £5?”
“You’ll only pay half that if you try a new combo for us today.” Sebastián offered.
“Are there strawberries in it?” It was a habit to ask that question. If she ingested even the smallest bit of strawberry, she would immediately go into anaphylaxis, and she often didn’t carry her EpiPen with her when she went on her runs.
“Now, if I didn’t know any better,” Maria said as she placed her hands on her hips, “I’d almost be offended. You’ve been coming here for five years, cariño. We know you’re allergic. We train all of our employees to keep anything that touches strawberries away from everything else. Just like we do for all of our customers’ allergies.”
“I know, Mamá,” she sighed. “It’s just better to be safe than sorry.” She didn’t want to admit to the couple that her boyfriend of nearly six years always forgot about her allergy and that if he tried giving her something that had been even remotely near strawberries one more time, she would lose her shit.
In the end, Hermione ended up trying their new combo and liked it. They added it to the menu. On her way back to her apartment, Hermione started feeling excited. She would get a letter from Charlie today. Every Wednesday, a letter from her pen pal would arrive at some time between 5am-10pm. Every Saturday, she would send one back. That had been their routine since she was in Hogwarts.
“Ron,” she called, not expecting an answer, “I’m home. Maria and Sebastián say hello. I’m gonna go get in the shower and get ready for work.” Hermione didn’t know why she still updated him every morning she got back from a run. Ron was never awake at 5:30, and she was lucky if he was awake by the time she was running to their Floo. So when she got out of their bathroom and found him in the living room with a letter in his hand, she was so shocked that she froze and just stared. A glance at the writing had her feeling a flash of fear and excitement. She knew that elegant yet strong writing. She recognized the way that her name had been written in gold ink. A jab at her nickname “The Golden Girl”.
Charlie’s letter.
Ron looked furious. “You’re still communicating with my brother?”
“Yes? We’ve been regularly writing letters for six years. He keeps me updated on his dragons and his research, and I send him information for their Healer to learn and updates on all of you.” Hermione had no idea why he was so pissed. Charlie was her best friend. She had mentioned it at least a few times, and she knew he had seen them hang out at holidays and birthdays. They were too comfortable with each other to only communicate at those events only.
“I want you to stop talking to him.” He told her. His tone was clear, concise, and left no room for argument. But Hermione had always argued.
“Excuse me?”
“You. Are. Not. Talking. To. Charlie. Anymore.” He spoke in a way meant for someone stupid or a child when they’ve done something that would get them into trouble. Hermione hated it. He always used this fucking tone with her.
“You do not get to treat me like a child, Ronald Weasley. I can be friends with whomever I want, and I will talk to them as much as I please. And not only is Charlie my friend, he is also my colleague. His letters are keeping me updated on research that has crucial information that can help me keep up with healing injuries made by dragons. Which, by the way, keeps your brother alive.”
Ron let out a mocking laugh. “You think he’s your friend? No, no, Mione,” Hermione internally cringed at the nickname she still hated after all these years, “he’s using you to save his own skin. Your little Muggle shop owners are using you for your money. No one would ever willingly be friends with you besides me and Harry. And Harry only puts up with you out of pity for me. I’m the only one who could ever love you. Even your own parents don’t want you. Without me, you would have no one. No family, no friends, no partner.” With that, he threw Charlie’s letter into the fire as Hermione began to shut down.
Logically, she knew Ron was wrong. Her Eighth Year had proven exactly that. The fact that Charlie wrote to her every week and always sought her out anytime they were at the same events proved it too. And Maria and Sebastián treated her like their own daughter. But Hermione’s self worth had been being broken down more and more each year, exponentially so these past five years with Ron. He always knew exactly what to say to shatter her spirit, pretending to not realize what he was doing to her.
The fact that she hadn’t seen any of her friends in a few years didn’t help. Hell, she barely even saw Harry and Ginny. Either her friends had stopped inviting her to things, were ignoring her letters asking to plan a meet up, or Ron was intercepting them all. And it wasn’t as though she could cast a Patronus to talk with them; she hadn’t been able to cast one for almost five years now. Hermione was isolated, depressed, and one more dead patient away from having a mental breakdown and probably severely hurting herself. Her only bright spots were Charlie and his letters as well as Maria and Sebastián and their shop. Now, Charlie was being taken away from her too.
“Good girl, submitting so easily.” Ron was stroking her tamed curls while she knelt on the ground. When had she fallen to her knees? “You’ll make a good wife and mother one day if you keep this up. Once you’re good and submissive, that’s when I’ll meet you at the altar.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head before continuing.
“Remember, Mione, I’m doing this because I love you. You’re mine, and no one else is allowed to have you. Charlie was trying to get in the way of that. One day soon, you’ll thank me.” With those final words, he Floo’d out of their apartment to the Ministry.
Hermione waited a few minutes to be sure he was gone before summoning the nearly completely destroyed letter and casting the charm necessary to repair it.
“Recipe ignem.” It was a spell the Dragon Tamers had created centuries ago but kept it close to their chests. Only Tamers and those closest to them knew it. It was a spell created originally to restore letters entirely even after it was completely obliterated by dragon fire. Fire from a standard fireplace or Floo was child’s play for the spell, especially when it could restore messages from the fuego eterno from a Venezuelan Scorcher. The Scorcher could shoot flames that would literally burn for centuries if not put out by the proper spells in the right order.
My dearest Mia,
This should reach almost a week before your birthday. Specifically, six days. So, I guess I should wish you a happy birthday. You’re almost officially 24, which makes me feel weird considering I’m 30. What’s even more crazy is the fact that we’ve been communicating since you were 15 and I was 22. But I’m getting off topic.
I’m so glad you’ve been a constant in my life for these past eight years. Since they’ve first begun, your letters have been a highlight of each month, now week. Exchanging research and stories and even the most random things has somehow been even more stimulating, enlightening, and entertaining than being a Dragon Tamer. That’s why I’m pleased to let you know that Andrei has instructed me to tell you that, should you ever want a change in career paths or scenery, he’s happy to start paying you what you deserve. Think about it, please.
Also, as you know, Lexi has gone on maternity leave. That’s probably why you’re having an influx of Tamers and other Reserve personnel, but we’re doing our best to reduce the injuries so you don’t get overwhelmed.
Anyways, I hope to see you soon, iubito, and that we meet in celebration rather than fear and pain. Please don’t hold back on your letter; I love knowing what’s going on in your life.
You’re my best friend,
Charlie
Hermione would never fail to smile at Charlie’s letters. They were always so honest and heartfelt. But now that smile was darkened by sadness. She had to end this all with Charlie. Her best friend and confidant. She felt sick. She couldn’t do it directly, but she could become very formal and closed off. That way he would back out.
Charles Weasley,
Thank you for the birthday wishes. You are a very dear friend to me as well. I do wonder what it says about you that you befriend a 15 year old girl at 22. Tell Andrei I am not interested in a job at this time, but I thank him for his offer. The amount of patients I see has never overwhelmed me, so don’t worry about it. I wish Lexi a safe pregnancy and birth. Also, give the owl double treats.
Hermione Granger
She turned to Scythe who normally stuck around for a few days until Hermione sent her response. He was Charlie’s eagle owl, so she knew he was strong and determined, but he still eyed her warily.
“If you get this to him by tomorrow, I’ll make sure you get at least double treats.” The poor bird reluctantly flew off, and Hermione gave herself five minutes of crying before pulling her shit together. She was a War Heroine and a Healer for fuck’s sake. With that thought in mind to temporarily distract her, Hermione Floo’d into work, only twenty minutes early instead of her usual thirty. It was time to get back to reality.