Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello! Yes, I know I've been a little absent this month, and that I should be writing a new chapter for my other story Curiosity Killed the Cat, and I promise you it will be up within the next few days. But, I had to write this for a challenge, and I really enjoyed it. While it's completed for now, I will probably come back a bit later and finish it. Probably.**

**Okay, it's for the Hunger Games Competition on HPFC and for round three I used the prompts: Word: divert, emotion: ecstatic, Dialogue: "She's not going to be happy about that" (I changed a few pronouns and that to this, but I think it still counts), Setting: Dragon Reserve in Romania, Weapon: fire.**

**A million thank yous to my brilliant beta Littleoldmeeeee for betaing this even though it's not officially what I *hired* you for. You did an awesome job! **

**Enjoy and review please!**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognise doesn't belong to me, obviously. **

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Hermione panted heavily, putting her hands on her knees and bending forward as she finished the five-mile long run. Looking around at the other trainees, she was glad to see that she wasn't the only one who was woefully out of shape, though none of them looked quite as winded as she felt.

"Alright, gather 'round trainees!" their instructor, a big, heavily-muscled man with skin that looked as tough as leather, and a bushy moustache, called out. Gathering in a group around him with the rest of the trainees, Hermione wondered how a moustache was in any way practical, as he worked with dragons, and hair was very likely to catch fire. She herself had had to cut her bushy hair very short, so short that if you glanced quickly, without paying attention, you might mistake her for a boy.

Looking out over the exhausted-looking trainees, the big man, Balder, laughed and said, "that was just the warm up. If you can't handle that, then you have no business being here." Hermione made an effort to straighten up and get her breathing under control, and watched the other trainees attempt to do the same. She smiled slightly as she saw one young man, who looked so young he couldn't have been out of school for very long, attempt to hold his breath and stand up straight as Balder glanced at him, obviously trying to divert attention away from himself, only to give himself over to gasping breaths, supporting himself with his hands on to his knees, when Balder's gaze passed on.

When his assessing eyes landed on her, Hermione stood up straight and looked him straight in the eye, daring him to say something. He only grinned, and said, "that's better. Now, for the rest of the day, you'll be doing the kind of work that is usually given to dragon-tamers who misbehave. You'll be cleaning the nesting dragons' cages. And it has to be properly done, the mothers don't like dirty nests for their eggs, and then they might decide not to lay them and we won't have new dragons. We don't want that, do we? Or you'll be out of a job before you even get one. " He smiled widely, showing his yellow teeth, and waved a hand at the cages behind him, which were empty of dragons for the moment, but filled with soiled straw, and even from her position at the back of the group, Hermione could see the huge, old piles of dried dragon excrement. Her stomach rolled at the thought of cleaning that out.

"Well," Balder demanded, "what are you waiting for, get to it!" He pointed towards a shed where they found brooms, mops and scrubbing brushes, and Hermione went, feeling like a driven sheep, and nothing like the dragon tamer that she was training to be.

"Can we use magic?" the fair-haired boy Hermione had noticed before asked, clutching a broom the wrong way up and looking at it as if it were a very complicated piece of Arithmancy. Balder grinned a truly malicious grin, and said, "no. The dragons don't like any magic but their own imbued in their nesting areas, so you're gonna have to do it by hand." He grinned at them once more, before walking away,and calling over his shoulder, "happy cleaning!"

Hermione sighed, and tried to make her way over to the cage that looked like it was the least dirty, only to be shoved out of the way by a bigger man, who sneered at her as he walked into the area. She glared at his back and turned around to find the second cleanest one, only to see that all but one of the fourteen cages had a trainee in it, already busily working away, or, in some cases, trying to figure out which way up to hold a broom.

The only cage that remained was one that was set a little apart from the others, and even from where she stood, a good two hundred feet from it, she could smell the stench coming off of it. Cursing her small size for making her so easy to shove out of the way, Hermione made her way over to the last cage, pausing at the entrance to tie her scarf over her nose, in an attempt to block out the worst of the smell.

The cage was a mess. Dirty straw lay ankle deep on the floor, squelching unpleasantly when she stepped on it, making her glad that she had worn her dragon-hide boots today. Dragon excrement, large heaps of it, twirled into the characteristic spiral of the Chinese Fireball, (the first test that determined if you were good enough to be trained was a written test that, of course, Hermione had excelled at. She would be surprised if there were a dragon she couldn't recognise by excrement alone, not to mentions scales or eggs), seemed to be everywhere she looked. She narrowly avoided stepping in one while she tried to get to the pitchfork leaning against the wall.

Studying the mess, Hermione squared her shoulders, thanked her lucky stars that she was Muggleborn, or else she wouldn't have known the first thing about cleaning, (and she needed all her knowledge here), and began pitching forkfuls of straw into the barrel outside, which she thankfully did not have to replace each time it got full, as it seemed to empty itself as soon as she was worried that it was becoming too full.

The squishy dampness she had felt on first stepping onto the straw, turned out, thankfully, to be nothing more than a slowly leaking pipe on the floor of the cage, (which she only uncovered after an hour of pitching straw), that she quickly repaired with a patch she had found in the shed.

As she was pitching out the last of the straw, (most of the excrement went with it, being stuck to it. Hermione had never been so thankful in her life that she didn't have to scrub something), she hit something hard with the edge of the pitchfork. She frowned and carefully cleared the straw around the solid object, to reveal a black stone, which turned out to be a dragon egg as she looked closer.

She racked her brain, trying to remember which dragon lays black eggs, but the nearest thing she could come up with was the Japanese Firethrower who lays dark-blue eggs. This egg was definitely black however, and although she still had a way to go with cleaning the cage, she knew she couldn't just leave the egg there. So, tucking it under her arms, she walked out of her cage, ignoring the mutters of her fellow trainees, even Lisa, a black girl that had been fairly kind to her. Hermione ignored Lisa's shouts after her, "Balder's not going to be happy about this, come back, don't be a fool!" Instead, she made her way to the only person besides Lisa that she knew at this place: Charlie Weasley.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

When she found him, having walked about for quite some time, asking after him and quickly ducking behind a tree to avoid Balder, it was already nearing dusk, and he had just finished wrestling a reluctant Green Dragon's jaw open to administer some medicine. Now, he was rubbing ointment onto a wound where the dragon's fire had burned him.

She waited in the deepening shadows until the other dragons tamers had walked away, before nearing him and touching his bare shoulder. He jumped up in surprise, whirling around and wincing as the burn on his side twisted, before recognising Hermione and relaxing. "Hermione, what are you doing here? What happened to your hair? Are you-" he glanced her up and down, "are you a trainee? Why?"

"Long story, and not important now." She brought out the egg from behind her back, watching as Charlie's eyes first narrowed in confusion, before his eyes widened in surprise, and he asked, a tinge of awe in his voice, "Hermione, were did you find this? Do you know what it is?"

"I found it in the nesting cage I was cleaning, and thought it best to let someone know right away."

He held out his hands, but hesitated and frowned, saying, "Why didn't you give it to your trainer then? Why did you come to me?"

Hermione blushed, looked down and said, "I, I didn't know where Balder was, and- and he didn't look like the type of person who would listen to a trainee!"

Charlie laughed, and Hermione flushed further. "Oh, now I understand. You've got Balder. I'll admit that he's downright horrid to the newbies, but once you finish training he really isn't all that bad. Just a little rough around the edges. Well, give it over, let's see whether it is what I think it is."

Hermione handed it over, and he held it gently in his hands, studying it before handing it back, and picking up his ointment again with a wide smile on his face. "It is, this is incredible!" he exclaimed, an awed look in his eyes as he stared at the egg.

"What is?" Hermione asked eagerly, staring down at the egg in her hands curiously.

"This egg is incredibly rare. So rare that some dragon tamers say it's a myth." He started applying the ointment again, drawing Hermione's attention to the burn, and she winced in sympathy at the cracked skin, but Charlie only smiled and said, "no worries. I've had worse. So will you if you if you finish your training." Thankfully, for Hermione was almost bouncing with impatient curiosity now, he continued his explanation without asking how she had ended up in training to be a dragon tamer in the first place. "It's said that a black egg will, if hatched correctly, give birth to a pure white dragon that spewslightening, not flames."

"Which dragon lays these eggs?"

"Nothing does, they just," he waved his hands about, "appear."

"How do you hatch it, then?" Hermione asked, now critically assessing the egg in her arms.

Charlie's face paled, and he said quickly, "Oh, no. You don't want to do that. They say that such a dragon cannot be controlled or tamed, and that it will wreak havoc on all around him. The only way to stop it is to kill it, and the only way to kill it is to find a way to redirect his lightening onto himself."

"But what was it-"

Footsteps hurried toward them, and Hermione hid the egg behind her back quickly, as Balder came into view, and gave an ecstatic grin, (one that made Hermione shiver in fear of all the unpleasantness it promised), when he saw her.

"Aha! Here she is! The trainee that walked off in the middle of cleaning! Think you're too good for us, do you? Well, now you get to clean all of the other cages as well. The other trainees didn't finish theirs, and you've hardly begun on yours, so off you go! Who needs sleep when they can just walk off whenever it pleases them."

Hermione glared at the ground as she followed him, glancing at Charlie as she left, to find him looking worriedly at the egg behind her back. When he saw her looking at him, he mouthed at her, "throw it away. Get rid of it."

Carefully, Hermione brought the egg out from behind her back and stared at it, trying to decide where to throw it, when she felt a pulse of warmth travel through the egg and up into her arms. An immense wave of affection for the egg hit her, and she felt nauseous as she thought of throwing it away. Charlie could say what he wanted, she wasn't throwing a dragon egg away.

"Stop dawdling girl, or do you want to feed the dragons as well?"

Hermione stuck the egg behind her back once more, and hurried on after Balder.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Yes, finally a second chapter, I know! I'm a bit flabbergasted as well. But, here it is, for the reviewers who asked me about it, and I hope it is okay for you. This chapter is mainly about Hermione's memories and what led to her being in Romania in the first place. I know some of you were hoping for more action, but I just felt that we had to get this out of the way first. Also, does the reasons for Hermione beginning dragon training sound realistic to you? Let me know please! Enjoy and review please!**

**Massive thanks to my beta Littleoldmeeeee who betaed this chapter while in the midst of revisions for exams. A thousand thank you's dear. **

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Hermione was bone-tired, her head aching, and her eyes fighting to stay open. She had spent the whole night - literally until the sun had risen - cleaning out the cages.

She had finished her own with more than enough time to get a bit of sleep, but because of her punishment, (and Balder's threatening gaze just outside the cages, which was replaced at regular intervals throughout the night by other dragon tamers, who were sympathetic, but unrelenting), she had also had to clean all the other trainees' cages as well. Most of them had at least done a decent job in starting the process, and there wasn't much for Hermione to do, except to sweep up the last bits of dirt and replace the old straw. Of course, there were also those that had clearly not even tried, or had been so perplexed by the tools that they had ended up making the mess worse, causing that much more work for Hermione. She had almost growled out loud when she'd come to the first cage, the one that she had wanted to clean before being shoved out of the way, and found it in a worse state of messiness, and general disgustingness, than what it had been like in the first place. She honestly wouldn't have been surprised if the guy who had shoved her out of the way had simply flung stuff around to look like he was doing something.

All of the cleaning, however, was far too monotonous to hold Hermione's attention for long periods of time, and her mind began to wander - inevitably going back to the reason she had signed up for dragon training in the first place.

It had been hard, at first, acclimatizing herself to a normal life. As normal as life could be, for one Harry Potter's best friends at least. But, for the first time in what felt like forever, there were no threats to run from. There wasn't a mystery that absolutely had to be solved, and she didn't always have to be the girl with all the answers.

For the first few months, the freedom had been terrifying. She didn't know what to do. Sure, she had thought about what she would do when Voldemort was gone, dead, defeated, but it had been more hypothetical than realistic. At the time, she couldn't really conceive a future without the threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters hanging over her, so every dream of the future had been tinged with a dreamlike quality. Pleasant, but not exactly reachable.

Then, suddenly, the war had been over, and she was free to do whatever she wished.

She had gone to see her parents first, anxious to see if the memory charm she had placed on them would be reversible. When creating the spell, she hadn't been able to improve on the fifty-fifty chances that they would get their memories back. Before she could tinker on it any more, her time was up, and she had had to cast the charm as it was.

She was devastated when it turned out the charm was irreversible.

Harry and Ron had been very sympathetic, with Ginny right there beside them, and Hermione had leaned heavily on them in the time following her heart-breaking discovery. Mrs. Weasley too, despite having lost a son (though she seemed determined to stay as cheerful as possible, even if Hermione had seen her, at moments when she thought nobody was looking, holding that blasted clock in her hands, where Fred's hand would forever be pointing to dead, with silent tears running down her face. Mrs. Weasley had removed the clock from the wall after Fred's death - Hermione suspected it was in order to not have that reminder on her kitchen wall every time she turned around), was very kind to Hermione, and made it abundantly clear that Hermione would always have a home with the Weasleys.

"Now, don't be silly Hermione. You're always welcome here. In fact, I would consider it an insult if you went anywhere else!" Mrs. Weasley had exclaimed, when Hermione expressed doubts about staying at the Burrow, and suggested instead getting a flat.

For the next few months, Hermione had worked on getting her N.E.W.T.S., failing to talk Ron in to taking any of his, but succeeding in getting Harry to take at least two of his: Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration.

After getting her N.E.W.T.S. (all of which had received Outstanding), she'd applied for a job in the Management of the Rights of Magical Creatures Department. She had got the job, of course, (she could've gotten it without taking her N.E.W.T.S., but she wouldn't have felt quite as deserving of it. Ron had taken full advantage of their honorary status as War-Heroes, and had been accepted into the Auror-programme almost instantly when he had applied. Because he hadn't taken his N.E.W.T.S. and had gotten into the programme earlier, he was now above Harry - something which he was very smug about. He was rather good at his job though, Hermione had to admit), but she didn't quite start at the bottom, courtesy of her status, and, Hermione liked to think, her excellent marks.

So, whilst a lot of things were strange, like being followed by cameramen and reporters everywhere, or the constant feeling of being unsafe, (some Death Eaters were still on the loose), things were generally better than they had been in years, and Hermione ought to have been perfectly content, if not perfectly happy.

Except, she wasn't.

At first, she had assigned the lingering niggling feeling of discomfort and discontent to nothing else but after-effects of the war, (she had been going to a therapist, something she was still trying to convince Harry and Ron, but especially Harry to do. Ginny had given in, finally, and she was now firmly on Hermione's side), and of her parents memory loss. She was still very sensitive about her parents, and sometimes the tiniest things could remind her of them, and she would have to find a quiet place immediately, to hide her tears. She was still keeping a distant eye on them, and it gave her some comfort to know that she would be notified immediately if something happened to either of them,

But after a while, that happened less and less, and though the nightmares of the war remained, (she didn't think they would ever truly go away), she was relatively free of their effects in her waking hours. Everything was going fine, except for that niggling feeling.

She managed to ignore it for two years, managed to avoid showing how restless and out of place she felt. She managed it at Harry and Ginny's wedding, where she was reminded yet again that she didn't have somebody in her life, since Ron was now dating Luna. (Around the same time, he had also quit his job as an Auror to become a professional Quidditch-player, which she personally thought was a mistake, but Ron was happy, really happy, and she couldn't say anything to ruin that). She had even managed it when George tried to kill himself, and he was kept in St. Mungo's mental ward for close to six months.

Then, three months ago, the message had come through. Her parents had died. Not in a magical way, which was what she had feared ever since she had really become involved in the fight against Voldemort and had realised how much danger her parents were in, but in a common car accident. It had been dark and stormy, the roads were wet, it was misty, and the other car hadn't seen her parents' car lights. The car had skidded and rolled on the road, her parents were killed on impact.

Everyone had been very sympathetic and kind; forgiving her when she had skipped Sunday lunch three times in a row, when she'd nearly bitten Harry's head off when he had tried to talk to her and even when she'd refused to go and see Ron's first real Quidditch game.

In retrospect, she thinks maybe that was part of the problem. Nobody had told her to snap out of it, to stop being such a baby and to get over herself. Granted, she wouldn't have said something like that to somebody who had just lost their parents either, but she had really needed that. Somebody to tell her to shape up.

When she was late to work for the third time in a week, her boss had called her in and asked her, very gently, if she would like some time off to deal with her parents' death. Irrationally, Hermione was angry, and she had spat out, "no. I quit." She had handed in her resignation that day, followed shortly by a letter of apology after she had cooled down.

She had told Harry, Ron and the Weasleys that she just needed to get away. Harry had offered to pay for her to tour Europe, but she had declined. She knew she just needed to get away, for a long time, and she knew she wouldn't be satisfied with doing nothing. So, she had signed up for dragon tamer training in Romania, passed the admission tests with flying colours, (she was surprised when she saw how many people showed up for the tests, and even more surprised when she saw how little of them actually passed. It wasn't that hard of a test, honestly. You only had to study), and now here she was, cleaning nesting cages.

She swept out the last of the dirty straw from the final cage, and heaved a sigh of relief. She was done.

She looked up at Balder, who had taken over from the last dragon tamer about an hour ago and was leaning against the outside of the cage, and asked him in a small voice, "I guess I can't go to sleep now, can I?"

She expected Balder to sneer and laugh at her, but instead, she got a smile, still a little mocking but not downright cruel, and he answered, "well, this was your punishment, but seeing the good job you did here, I think you can skip the morning jog and get a bit of shut-eye. I'll send someone over to get you when we're done."

Hermione smiled gratefully. Although she wouldn't get more than an hour of sleep at the most, she knew that Balder didn't have to excuse her from jogging, and the fact that he had was a miracle in itself. "Thank you!"

His rare good mood seemed to have disappeared with the first rays of light peeking over the edge of the horizon, and he scowled and said, "Well, what're you waiting for? Off you go! I'm not gonna give you more time t' sleep."

She turned around (she had barely remembered to snatch the egg and tuck it under her arm) and smiled to herself as she walked, (she would've run had she had the energy, but she just didn't), towards the dormitory where the trainees slept. At first, she had been horrified to discover that the males and females roomed together, especially seeing as there were only five girls and nine males. She got used to it pretty quickly however. When you were tired and dirty, desperate for a bed and a shower you didn't really care who saw you, and the bathrooms were communal as well. She slumped into the room just as people were beginning to wake up.

She ignored their stares and whispers as they saw her and just fell down on to her bed, not even caring that she was still in her dirty clothing and likely getting her sheets dirty. She just wanted to sleep.

A hand shook her shoulder and she heard Lisa's voice asking her, "Where've you been? I've been worried about you! And what's that black stone you've got there?"

Startled awake by Lisa's question about the egg, Hermione sat up and pushed the egg quickly in to the suitcase she kept under her bed, amazed that she had been carrying it all the way to the dormitory - right in front of Balder! She must have been more tired than she thought. Hopefully, he, like Lisa, thought it was just a stone.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just something that I picked up. Balder sent me here to sleep for a while, until you finish the morning run, then I have to come back. I had to clean all the cages last night as punishment."

Lisa winced. "Ouch. Bet that wasn't pleasant. Well, I've got to run. Literally. I'll make sure somebody actually comes and gets you when we finish jogging. Wouldn't want Balder to give you even more punishments, would you?"

Hermione smiled gratefully and shook her head as Lisa grinned at her, before hurrying to follow the other trainees outside, her wildly curly hair bouncing around her head, only to be secured by a hair band as she flew out the door.

She sank down on to her bed and closed her eyes, asleep almost before her head touched her pillow, too tired to even worry about the egg, the strange warm feeling she felt earlier, or what Balder had possibly seen.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Another chapter! Hope you lovelies enjoy, and please review to tell me what you think! (Seriously, and if you can offer me some con-crit, I would really appreciate it) (Also, if this is too filler, I apologise, I just felt that I need to write it). **

**A huge thanks to Littleoldmeeeee for betaing this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

True to her word, Lisa sent a young boy - one of the children of the Keepers, Hermione presumed - to wake Hermione up at the end of their run, which had, thankfully, lasted two hours. She just had time to run a wet hand (since she had cut her hair, she didn't really own a comb) through her hair and pull on a fresh set of trainee robes and dragon hide cover, before she really had to get going.

Before hurrying off to join the others in what she was sure would be a gruelling day, Hermione paused and glanced at the handle of her suitcase sticking out from beneath her bunk. Now that she'd had a little shut-eye, (Hermione couldn't believe how rejuvenated she felt after just two hours of sleep), she was once again burning up with curiosity about the black egg, and she bemoaned the fact that she didn't have the time to sit and puzzle her head over it.

"Hurry up! Or do you want to get in trouble again?"

Hermione levelled a half-hearted glare at the impertinent young boy, who just widened his eyes at her, thereby reminding her that he was doing her a favour. Sparing one last glance at the suitcase, and kicking the handle under the bed, (just because they were all bone-tired at the end of the day, it didn't mean that there weren't still those who stole), she jogged out of the door to catch up with the boy who was already halfway across the field on the way to the training grounds.

When Hermione caught up with the boy, he was already receiving what looked like a handful of Knuts from Lisa. She felt a pang of guilt in her gut, knowing that Lisa had gotten in here on a scholarship, and she vowed that she would pay her back as soon as possible.

She didn't get the chance to talk to Lisa however, as, right at that moment, Balder sauntered in to view from where he had presumably been setting up their torture for the day, and Hermione just had a chance to shoot Lisa a grateful glance, before she had to rush after Balder.

Hermione's prediction that the training for the day would be unpleasant proved to be all too true, at least for the first half of the day. Seeing as they did such a poor job cleaning up the cages, (Hermione snorted as she heard that, knowing that she had been the victim of their laziness), they were now going to wash the baby dragons.

On second thoughts, Hermione would really rather clean the cages.

Dragons didn't like water. (At least land dragons didn't. Hermione knew there were sea dragons, but the reserve in Romania didn't have any). That was almost the first thing there was to learn about dragons. They didn't like water and the only reason they would consent to come near it was to drink it. Even then, if the water splashed on them too much, they would retreat until they couldn't stand their thirst anymore. In the wild, bathing was non-existent.

While that wasn't really a problem with the bigger dragons, as they cleaned themselves with rough sand, or rubbed themselves against rocks heated by their own fire, it was a nightmare with the little dragons. The difficulty came when the dragons couldn't produce their own fire, as was the issue with the cubs.

The ones who had mothers had it easy, their mothers simply washed them at the same time as they washed themselves. No biggie.

But with the ones that had lost their mothers to overeager 'hero' witches and wizards, (the first time Hermione had heard about them, she had about had an aneurism about the pointlessness of their violence. For goodness sake - if you left dragons alone, it was highly unlikely that they would do anything to you), things weren't so simple.

The Keepers simply couldn't produce fire that was hot enough - at least not without using the Fiend-fyre spell, which was highly illegal - for the bathing method of the older dragons to work, so they were stuck with using water.

The only reason they allowed the trainees anywhere near the dragons, especially the young ones, was that the process of fighting the cubs into submission, (and boy, did they fight when they sensed water), meant that relationships were formed with their trainers from a very young age, and since the trainees were going to be the next generation of trainers, it made sense for them to get to know the dragons. Even if it was in one of the most unpleasant manners they could think of - both for the dragons and for the trainees.

Hermione was assigned to a pitch-black cub who eyed her warily as she trained her wand on it, preparing to send a jet of high powered water its way. Hermione was in her element. It might not be the exciting debates on magical creature rights she had envisioned when she first started her life in the adult world, but it was the same rush of adrenalin she felt while facing of a two-foot high dragon, (who, thankfully, couldn't do much more than snap at her, since she was dressed head to toe in dragon hide gear), that she imagined she would have felt had she continued in her line of work. Hermione shifted the gear a bit, trying to make it easier to move in; it might keep you safe, but Hermione was fed up with the limited manoeuvrability it afforded her. It was standard uniform for trainees however. Hermione raised her wand and opened her mouth to cast the spell.

Just as her mouth was forming the first syllables of 'Augmenti,' she heard a pointed cough behind her. As a tiny little stream of golden water, (mispronouncing spells resulted in the strangest of things, as Hermione had already discovered. She had once spent a whole summer just mispronouncing spells, and seeing what it gave her. She realised later how incredibly foolish she had been, and how lucky she was that nothing had gone seriously wrong), dripped from the end of her wand, she turned around to find Charlie Weasley standing behind the fence of the enclosure she was in. He was regarding her with a furrowed brow and folded arms.

Seeing his face, Hermione felt a surge of guilt at ignoring his advice the night before, but she pushed it away resolutely. She had nothing to feel guilty about. She had found the egg, and she was determined to find out just what exactly it was, and why she had felt that strange connection.

"Charlie. Fancy meeting you here. At the training ground. Where I, a trainee, train."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow, but Charlie ignored her jibe and just kept on staring accusingly at her. She stared at him for a few seconds more, but when, after about twenty seconds, with nobody saying anything, and the other trainees around them, (those who weren't actively trying to fight off an attacking cub), starting to stare, Hermione turned around with a "hmmph!" and raised her wand again.

"Hermione."

Charlie's voice stopped her, again.

Irritated now, she turned around with a sharp, "what!?"

Charlie looked taken aback for a few seconds, before he seemed to recollect himself. Uncrossing his arms, (Hermione suppressed a sigh of envy at the light, easy-to-move-in clothes that he was wearing), he sighed and said, "just, just come see me, yeah? When... when you're done here. We need to talk." He hesitated, before beckoning her closer. When she came closer, he leaned forward and said softly, "You didn't destroy the egg, did you?"

Hermione hesitated before nodding, casting her eyes on the ground.

Charlie sighed, sounding resigned, and said, "I didn't expect that you would." Surprised, Hermione raised her eyes to see Charlie rubbing a hand across his face, before dropping it an continuing with, "I didn't tell anyone. But we really, really need to talk about it. Bring the egg, please."

He leaned back, nodded at her, and walked away.

Looking around to check if anyone had heard his last words, she was surprised to see every one of the trainees' eyes on her, and she blushed, though she knew she had nothing to be ashamed of.

Shaking her head at her silliness, she turned around to, once again, lift her wand, only to find that the little dragon had crept up on her and was now staring up at her with big eyes. Trusting eyes.

Seeing those eyes, Hermione's will failed her, and she lowered her wand, tucking it into her holster at her hip. Hesitantly, trying not to startle the little dragon, she lowered a hand onto its head. She was just about to make contact with the smooth, black scales of his forehead, with his nose lifting as if to fit its head into her hand, when he sniffed suddenly, stiffened, and turned tail.

Frowning, Hermione straightened up. She looked down at her hands, trying to find what the little thing could possibly have smelt on her, but there was nothing. At least nothing that she could detect.

Shrugging, Hermione lifted her wand, and swallowing her guilt over the unpleasantness she was about to put the cub through, she said, "Augmenti!"

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

They had finished with bathing the dragons by lunch time, and everyone was raving about how the dragons reacted to them after they finished the wash. Everyone, that is, except Hermione.

All the other trainees could talk about was how at the end of the wash, the little cubs had looked up to them and followed them around, still snapping when they tried to touch them, but standing closer nonetheless. According to the texts Hermione had read on the subject, such behaviour meant that the cubs had begun to see the trainees as someone to look up to. Someone to imitate and follow. Which was, of course, exactly the point of the exercise. (Well, that, and the cubs were dirty, and the older dragon tamers didn't want to wash them. Whatever the payoff was, washing them wasn't fun.)

"Hermione. Hermione! Are you okay?"

Hermione looked up, startled, into Lisa's concerned face. They were sitting in the overcrowded mess hall, and, judging by the looks Hermione was getting, Lisa had been trying to get her attention for a while now.

Hermione shook her head and said, lifting a bread roll to her mouth, "yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

Lisa raised her eyebrows doubtfully, and said, "are you sure? I know your cub didn't react like everyone else's, but you know that there are statistics that say that there is one in a thousand cubs who don't react the way they should to outside influences. You were probably just unlucky enough to get that one." Lisa shrugged, spreading some jam on her bread, and Hermione smiled faintly at her, mostly to humour her.

She wanted to believe that Lisa was speaking the truth, that it was just one in a thousand, and that she was simply unlucky enough to get stuck with the one that wouldn't react normally. It would certainly fit in with the rest of her unlucky life. But, somehow, she knew that wasn't it.

The cub had been responding marvellously, coming near her and almost letting her touch him, even before she had started washing him. He seemed to have been fine up until the moment he had come close enough to smell _something_ on her. What, she didn't know, but she was fairly certain that had anybody else gotten in to that cage with the cub, it wouldn't have cowered in the corner the whole time, even whilst she was washing him.

She shook her head, trying to get rid of her pessimistic thoughts, and focused on the conversation around her. She and Lisa were sitting at a long wooden table, reminiscent of the four house tables at Hogwarts, though here there were only two, and if you didn't get a place at the tables you had to find a place outside. Luckily, she and Lisa had managed to snag seats, which happened to be near some older trainees, who were closer to completing their training.

One of them, a small, thin young man, set down a mug of what Hermione assumed to be pumpkin juice, and, turning his head, caught sight of her and Lisa. He smacked his lips, alerting Hermione to his presence, and when she looked up, he grinned.

"Ah, well would you look at that?" He nudged a few of his friends, all bigger and stronger than him, even the girls, and pointed toward Lisa and Hermione, both of whom had frozen when the young man spoke. "Aren't they just adorable?" A few of his friends had turned around at that point, looking to see who he was talking about, and were now grinning, seeing Hermione and Lisa. "Look at that!" the young man cried, pointing at Hermione's hair. "They even let little boys pretending to be girls join the trainee group nowadays!"

He grinned as if he had just made a grand ol' joke, spurred on by his friends' guffawing.

"And look at that one," he added pointing at Lisa's hair which had begun to fall out of the hastily-tied knot at the back of her neck, "her hair looks wilder than most of the dragons in this place!" That seemed to be the last straw for them all, as they collapsed into each other, laughing.

Hermione bristled, offended. She knew that if she hadn't cut her hair, she would have been lobbed in to the same category as Lisa, and it was only because her hair was short that it appeared gently curling instead of just as untameable a mess as Lisa's. But no one insults her friends and gets away with it.

Before Hermione could do anything drastic, Lisa daintily placed her leftover bread on her plate, grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged Hermione up after her, ignoring her protests, until they were safely outside the hall.

Scowling at Lisa, who appeared wholly unconcerned, Hermione unsheathed her wand and with a subtle flick of her wrist, spelled all their clothes together. Now, when they finally decided that they'd laughed enough at the young man's ridiculous jibes, they would find it a bit harder to get up than it had been falling down.

Hermione smiled in satisfaction, and looked up at Lisa who was looking at her with an indulgent smile, while shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

"What?" Hermione inquired innocently.

Lisa opened her mouth to answer, but right at that moment, Balder came thundering into view from behind the hall, calling all the trainees, new and old, to him, and threatening them with double runs, (which meant twice around the whole enclosure - bearing in mind, a single run alone was fifteen kilometres around the circumference of the site), if they dawdled.

Glancing at the trainees, who were now struggling with their clothes, becoming more and more desperate as they realised their predicament, Hermione and Lisa stifled their laughter and ran to join the rest of their group.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Next chap! Enjoy and review please!**

**Massive thank you to Littleoldmeeeee for betaing this for me! Your comments keep me going!**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

For the rest of the afternoon, Balder had all the trainees, young and old (the older years looked very grumpy about being lumped in with the "babies") on call for everything from helping with new dragons coming in (the one job that everyone wanted), to running around with refreshments.

Basically, what Hermione liked to call, "being interns".

And, boy, did the older dragon tamers take advantage of that. Even the older trainees could boss around the younger years, and as Hermione and Lisa were right at the bottom of the food chain, (along with the eleven or so others in her year, though she wasn't really friendly with them), they were run thoroughly ragged that afternoon. Especially when the older trainees, who were sent on double runs - much to Hermione and Lisa's satisfaction - came back and made their lives a living hell for about half an hour, before Balder dismissed them for the day.

Hermione was ever so thankful that the older trainees had taken almost the whole afternoon to do the runs, meaning they didn't have the luxury of bossing Lisa and her around for very long. (Though she did think that they could have done the runs a bit faster had actually been running, which Hermione knew they were not).

As Hermione walked with Lisa to the dorm, where the heavenly hot showers were, with their hair plastered with sweat and dirt (they had been unfortunate enough to be assigned one of the particularly, well, difficult would be an apt word, dragons to move, who didn't think twice about kicking up dirt and other unmentionables whilst breathing fire), she saw that Balder had the same idea that she had, and was standing threateningly above the cowering older trainees who took so long to complete their runs. Hermione quickly hid a grin in her hand, then gagged as the foul stench of the dragon hide gloves reached her. Dear Merlin, she really needed to wash these.

"Ooh, gotten a whiff of that "dirt" the Chinese Fireball kicked up, did you?" Lisa asked, smiling grimly at Hermione's disgusted face. "You're lucky, I actually got some in my mouth a little while ago. It was disgusting. I think I'm going to have to go swallow some soap." She gagged, moving to put her hand in front of her mouth, before pausing and looking at it, reconsidering with a shudder.

Lisa looked so thoroughly disgusted with herself, that Hermione promptly forgot her own exhaustion and burst out laughing.

"Hey!" Lisa cried indignantly, a small smile playing on her face, "you wouldn't be laughing right now if you had the taste of dragon dung in your mouth!"

Hermione apologized and managed to keep her face blank for approximately five seconds, before a smile began pulling at the corners of her lips once more. Lisa saw and shook her head, rolling her eyes.

They had reached the dormitory by then, and whilst Hermione would have loved to stay and talk to Lisa and the others some more, she really needed to shower and go over to speak with Charlie. When she said as much to Lisa, Lisa's eyebrows raised suspiciously and she pursed her lips.

"Who is this Charlie chap, then? I saw you talking to him today ̶ I don't think there's anyone who didn't see you two, what with him being so ripped, and him leaning in to whisper in your ear ̶ ," Hermione blushed, "-but what were you two talking about? Is he the reason you came here? Do you have, um, something going on?"

Though Lisa spoke quietly, trying to fly below the radar of the other inquisitive trainees, Kim (a small, excited looking Indian girl, who Hermione had trouble believing was actually old enough for the dragon tamer program) popped up behind them and spoke up.

"Are you two talking about that guy who was talking to Hermione today? Because I really want to know all about it too. And, seeing as we're the only girls here, you're kind of obligated to tell me everything that goes on in your lives. Girl code."

Hermione sighed. She really liked Kim, from the little that she had talked to her, but she was just so affectionate and clingy, and that didn't appeal to Hermione.

Thankfully, Lisa intervened by starting to talk about some brand of makeup they both apparently used, while motioning Hermione to the showers, which were quickly being filled up with other dirty trainees. Mouthing a thank you at her, Hermione grabbed her clothes and toiletries and managed to snag an empty shower stall.

After showering, she stopped by her bunk to grab the egg, thankfully not running into either Lisa or Kim, (she wasn't stupid enough to think that Lisa would just let go what they were talking about before they had been interrupted by Kim), and set off to find Charlie.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

She found him pretty easily; he was at the dining hall (just being in there made her realise how hungry she was), sitting with a bunch of dragon tamers, both male and female. Though Hermione wouldn't readily admit to being scared of anything or anyone, she had to admit that she was a bit wary of some of the women dragon tamers. She was well aware that appearances could be deceptive, Tonks (she got a pang in her heart thinking about her), being a prime example, but seeing the tattoos and shaved heads that some of the women sported here, it, well, it just made her a bit wary.

Of course, she supposed she couldn't really say anything, as she herself now had short hair, though she didn't think she would ever look quite as intimidating as some of the women here. She was a little on the small side, after all.

She debated going inside and grabbing a bite to eat as she waited for Charlie, but just as she made up her mind to hide the egg underneath her cloak and grab herself a bowl of soup, Charlie stood up. Waving and catching his eye, she retreated to just outside of the hall.

After a few moments, Charlie joined her and led her to his tent, (the dragon tamers had the choice of staying in a dormitory or getting their own tent, and considering the luxury of tents in the Wizarding world, most of them chose tents). Once inside, Hermione looked around, taking in her fairly chaotic surroundings. There was a large bed in the middle of the surprisingly big interior, (again, Wizard tents), with the covers in complete disarray, as if its owner had just woken up. On the floor, there was an assortment of clothes strewn around, most of them were variations of the clothes Charlie had on right then, merely in different colours. There was a small kitchenette that looked all but unused, and the walls were lined with posters of dragons and Quidditch teams.

Hermione crinkled her nose. Unfortunately, there also seemed to be a prevalent scent of unwashed clothes lingering in the air. She could just imagine what Mrs. Weasley would say to a mess like this.

Grinning at the thought, Hermione raised an eyebrow and remarked dryly, "untidy, much?"

Instead of being offended, Charlie smirked and said, "I know, but don't you dare say anything. You trainees actually have it easy. You have time to actually make your bed and make your living stations presentable. Actual dragon tamers, not so much. Just don't tell my mother." Charlie winked conspiratorially.

Hermione smiled, but it faded as Charlie's eyes fastened on the bulge beneath her cloak. He held out his hands wordlessly, asking for the egg. Hermione hesitated, torn between wanting to have an expert opinion and discover more about the egg (perhaps she would find out more about the mysterious connection she had felt to the egg last night), and protecting it from harm. She hadn't forgotten about Charlie urging her to get rid of the egg the previous night, to destroy it.

When Charlie's brows furrowed, she sighed and shook her head at herself. She wanted to know more about the egg, and right at that moment, the only person who knew and was able to help her was Charlie. She handed over the egg without further hesitation, finally seeing it in good lighting.

Looking at it now, it really was quite beautiful, and not completely black like she had thought at first. Whilst the overall effect was still black, there were shadows of colour hidden in the shell, and Hermione stood spellbound as Charlie turned it around and around in his hands.

"Hmm. Very interesting."

Hermione's head shot up, taking in Charlie's fascinated expression, before asking, "what is it?"

Charlie sat down on his untidy bed, motioning for Hermione to sit down beside him. Sitting down a bit uncomfortably, highly aware that she was in the room and on the bed of a person, who, although she knew his name, she didn't really know much else about, Hermione fastened her eyes on his face.

"You know a dragon egg has to be constantly warmed and heated to hatch, right?" Hermione nodded impatiently. Of course she knew this, it was in the exam. "Well, this egg seems to on its way to hatching, which shouldn't be happening."

Hermione frowned, pursing her lips, and studying the egg once again.

"How can you tell?"

"Well, you wouldn't know this yet, but you learn to recognise when an egg is on its way to hatching, when you've worked as a dragon tamer for a long time." Hermione opened her mouth to protest that there hadn't been anything about looking for signs of a hatching egg in her coursework, only to be stopped by Charlie continuing. "There aren't specific things to look out for, which is why it isn't included in the coursework. It's more of an instinct that you develop over time. And, well, my instinct is telling me this egg is readying itself to hatch."

Hermione frowned.

"But, how is that possible? I mean, how does something like that happen? And how did you know what this egg was last night? Where did you hear about it? If I just had more information ̶ "

"I don't think you're going to find out anything about it. At least, not in the library here. I only know about this because, well," he looked uncomfortable for a second, rubbing the back of his neck, "I got in a spot of trouble as a trainee, and was forced to work in the library for a month, along with some other stuff. It was in one of those books that I found mention of this, and I only remembered it because it was unusual. But, it won't help us now, the library burned down about five years ago, and it's pitifully understocked at the moment."

Hermione grimaced. She supposed it was a risk, building a library in a dragon reserve, but it still pained her to hear about books being burned. It was barbaric.

"That's rather unfortunate, but I do have some books with me about dragons, and I may be able to find something in them. I do have a question though. I felt a sort of, well, for lack of a better word, connection to the egg last night, as I was walking away with Balder. Do you know what that means?"

Charlie shook his head, clueless. His face hardened as she held out her hands for him to give back the egg, thought he did relinquish it.

"You're intending to keep it then? Even knowing that it may possibly be very dangerous and hatching?"

Hermione frowned at Charlie's disapproving tone.

"You don't know for sure that it's hatching, as you yourself admit that you know next to nothing about whatever this is, and you said it's more of an instinct that anything else anyway. And, so what if I'm keeping it? I found it, so it's my choice, right?"

"You do know that you're on a dragon reserve, right? A dragon reserve that actively discourages people from trying to hatch and raise a dragon on their own. You're training to be one of us, you can't do this. To be safe, you have to get rid of it. Or at least give it up to people who know more about dragons than you. They would know what to do. Don't be stupid. Don't try and do this on your own, you're not with Harry and Ron anymore - you can trust adults now!" Charlie's voice had risen to an angry shout now.

Hermione bristled. She didn't take kindly to insults to her intelligence, and that was essentially what Charlie was doing. She wasn't stupid, she knew there was a risk that the egg could turn out to be dangerous, but until she knew exactly what was going on, she didn't want to give the egg up. Especially if people were going to act like Charlie and insist she get rid of it. She didn't understand how he could say something like that, when their very jobs were about trying to protect dragons from ignorant people, who didn't know any better. And talking about Harry and Ron and their mutual distrust of people inpositions of authority was just a low blow. He had no idea what he was talking about.

She opened her mouth to say all of this to Charlie, when the flap of his tent was flipped back and a girl's head popped round it, wearing a huge smile.

Seeing the two of them sitting on the bed, the girl's confident smile slipped a little, and she asked hesitantly, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No," Hermione answered, ignoring Charlie's burning gaze. "I was just leaving."

She left quickly, ignoring Charlie calling after her. Let him enjoy his dalliances; it was abundantly clear that he would be no help to Hermione. If push came to shove, she could always go to Balder, though she still didn't really like him. But only once she had more information.

She felt slightly sick in her stomach, thinking that the egg in her arms might be destroyed. She was here to protect dragons, not to kill them, and she refused to believe that whatever was in the egg was as dangerous as Charlie seemed to believe it was. She simply needed more information, and what better place to look than books?


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Yes, I'm really updating. I just, tests and exams man, tests and exams, (and homework, literally everything school related), they just drain the living soul out of you. Sorry you had to wait so long with this one, and I wish I could say I will update more frequently, but I honestly don't know if I will, so just go with it, 'kay?**

**A massive thank you, as always, to my beta Littleoldmeeeee for taking the time to clean up after me. **

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Over the next few days, when not involved in dragon taming training, Hermione dug up and read all the books on dragon lore that she had brought with her. Considering how tiny her handbag was, it would seem like a surprising amount, but most people didn't realise just how much the bag was capable of holding. At the beginning of her research frenzy, Hermione was cautiously optimistic. Sure, though Charlie had said that he doubted information about something like the egg would be in abundance, he had managed to read about it in a book that he had reputably shelved whilst serving punishment for some misdemeanour or another.

As time went on though, and still nothing turned up, she knew that she should probably go and ask him about the name of the book, but she was feeling petty and she was still mad at him. The nerve of him, suggesting that she was no better than the tourists and ignoramuses that they saved dragons from, when he was the one who had wanted to hand the dragon egg over into the authorities' hands and potentially destroy a dragon life.

(Hermione was resolutely ignoring the niggling voice in the back of her head that reminded her that while it had been almost a week since their altercation, he hadn't yet, as far as she could make out, told anyone anything).

Her annoyance with Charlie, however, was only a minor part of her irritation at this point in time, as her cautious optimism at the beginning of the search was fading rapidly as she yet again slammed shut a book, none the wiser as to what to do about her dilemma.

Lisa, who was sitting on the bed next to Hermione, painting her toenails and relishing one of the few off days they had, raised her eyebrows at her short-haired friend's uncharacteristic behaviour.

"What did that poor book ever do to you?"

Hermione groaned and rolled over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling in defeat.

"They're all so useless! None of them has anything new to tell me, and they just aren't being helpful at all! Oh, how I wish I had the Hogwarts Library here right now."

Lisa's eyebrows raised even more, and she even paused in her careful application of toenail-polish to ask, "Hermione Granger, ranting about books being useless? I never thought I'd see the day. You practically worship them. Are you sure you're angry at the books, and not at some muscly, red-haired, deliciously attractive dragon tamer…?"

Hermione blushed, but rolled her eyes at Lisa, who was now waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"No. Definitely not."

Lisa didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure? I mean, you did look royally pissed off when you got back from him the other night. I, like the good friend that I am, didn't pry," Hermione snorted, "too much, but if I'm really a good friend, I won't let you internalise everything like I know you're wont to do, except for your occasional bouts of anger when you tend to get slightly out of control."

Hermione smiled slightly, and rolled her eyes again.

"Thank you for your concern, but really, I'm fine. There never was, and never will be any romantic entanglement between me and Charlie Weasley, thank you very much. I know his family far too well, and we just had a, um, minor disagreement about something that I feel quite strongly about. That's all."

Lisa snorted and muttered something about, "that's all my ass," before saying, looking studiously at her toes, as she applied a perfect coat of nail-polish, "This wouldn't have anything to do with that black egg you've been trying to hide from everyone, would it?"

Hermione's eyes widened comically and, panicked, she shot a glance at her little pearl handbag, where she had been storing the egg, only taking it out to check on it every other night.

"I- how did you- I mean-"

"Hermione." Lisa's steady voice cut into Hermione's stuttering and Hermione looked up to find Lisa's gaze once again firmly fixed on her.

Sensing that Lisa was about to say something potentially revealing, well, more revealing than the fact that she had known about the black egg for who knows how long, Hermione's practical side took over and she held up her hand to silence Lisa. Taking up the wand that was lying beside her, she whispered, "_Muffliato_," (there was no one else in the dormitory, but Hermione didn't want to risk somebody overhearing them if they suddenly walked in) and then nodded shakily for Lisa to continue, not sure that she would be able to say anything half-way sensible at the moment.

"What did that spell do?" was the first thing out of Lisa's mouth, to Hermione's surprise.

"It, um, it causes a buzzing to appear in the ears of anyone near us, causing them to either move away, or not be able to hear us."

"Interesting," Lisa mused, her eyes unfocused before sharpening on Hermione again.

"Yes, I know about the egg. I have known it for about five or so days, when you tried to hide it while almost falling asleep on your feet after you were up all night cleaning the cages. I didn't say anything because I believed, maybe foolishly, that you would tell me yourself, since I thought that you trusted me. Since you haven't however, I deduced that I was incorrect in my assumption, and that you don't quite trust me as much as I would like to think. However, I won't say anything to anyone if you don't want me to, but I would appreciate you telling me why you kept all of this a secret."

Hermione felt a deep, constricting, vomit-inducing sense of shame clogging her chest, and she lowered her head.

"I'm sorry," she said, still with a lowered head.

She really didn't know what else to say. Lisa had become a very close friend in a very short amount of time, she had to admit, but she had spent such a long time keeping secrets from everyone, except for Harry and Ron - and there were some things she hadn't even told them - that she found the idea of telling someone else her secrets very strange. Out of her comfort zone.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Hermione started, hesitatingly, trying to find the right words, "it's just that I'm not really used to telling people things. Some, trust issues, I guess you could say."

Lisa's face softened.

"It's okay, I understand, I think. If I had grown up like you had," Hermione had told her about Harry and Ron and what had happened to them, (the other trainees hadn't figured it out yet, not connecting the small, slight girl they knew as Hermione Granger to the tales they had heard of the fierce warrior Hermione Granger), "I probably wouldn't be used to telling people anything either. I do want to know what goes on that brilliant head of yours though, and since I'm the only person here you can talk to now that you and um, Charlie Weasley I think you said his name was, had a, as you put it 'a bit of a disagreement,' I would like to know you trust me. So, spill. What's up with that egg?"

Hermione smiled, grateful for her friend's easy acceptance of her secretiveness. That was one of the things that she most appreciated about Lisa, and one of the things that had drawn Hermione to her at first. Although Lisa was frighteningly smart, almost on par with Hermione, she had this laid-back and understanding attitude that made her seem very approachable and friendly. Because of that attitude, most people didn't realise quite how smart she actually was, until they had spent a bit of time with her. By that time however, they were already laughing too much at her jokes to care that she was, for all intents and purposes, a 'nerd'.

Hermione always joked and said that she worked as an undercover agent, recruiting people for the side of knowledge, one witty comment at a time.

Taking a deep breath, and a quick look around to ensure that there really was no one close enough to listen in, paranoid even with the _Muffliato_ charm, Hermione leaned forward and told her everything.

When Hermione had finished, (punctuated with numerous exclamations from Lisa at all the right times), Lisa had a big frown on her face, and was eyeing the books spread out over Hermione's bed sceptically.

"While I admire your diligence in rereading all your textbooks and," she lifted up a book titled _Obscure Draconian Facts_, "books that you apparently bought just for the whim of it, you would probably have picked up on anything like this the first time you read these. I've seen you in action, and when you're studying for something, you literally memorise the whole book, so I'm pretty sure nothing escaped your notice here. What you really ought to do, is ask Charlie what the name of the book was that he found that information in."

Hermione took it all back. She hated Lisa's logic and practicality.

Correctly interpreting Hermione's expression, Lisa laughed.

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser. And, for what it's worth, I agree with Charlie."

Hermione gasped.

"You what?! Do you want to kill an innocent little cub who hasn't even done anything wrong?"

Hermione was aghast. She had not expected this from Lisa at all.

"No, don't be ridiculous. I just think that if you want the most accurate information, because for all we know Charlie could have remembered it all wrong and this is just a normal, if rare, egg that somehow got misplaced, you should go to the experts. You have to start trusting authority again someday, Hermione."

Hermione frowned. She knew Lisa was right, had known it objectively ever since she had found the egg, but some stubborn streak in her wanted to do this on her own. She wanted to protect this little dragon, maybe because she had failed to protect her own parents from something as mundane as a car crash.

"Can I see it? The egg?"

Hermione looked up to see Lisa looking expectantly at her.

"Sure."

She fished the egg out of her handbag, trying her best not to disturb her other books arranged neatly in alphabetical order.

The egg felt warm in her hands, almost pulsing, and she could swear there were a few more colours swirling within the black sheen of the shell.

Carefully, she handed the egg over to Lisa, who accepted it with wide eyes.

"This. Is. Amazing. I thought you were kidding when you said that you thought the egg was hatching, but I see it, I really do. Hermione," she said, her voice suddenly urgent, "we've _got_ to take the egg to the higher-ups now! We don't know anything about this egg, and for all we know there's some special way the baby should be removed from its shell or something. We _cannot_ take that chance. We're talking about a life here Hermione!"

Hermione nodded reluctantly. She'd known for about two days now that if she didn't get some information soon, she would have to give up the egg. She didn't know anything about it, and like Lisa said, there could be procedures that they know nothing about. Now that she had shown Lisa, she couldn't delay it any longer.

"You're right. Let's go and hand it in right now."

"Now?" Lisa obviously hadn't expected Hermione to give in so easily.

"Yes, now. Like you said, we're working with a life here, and I won't have any more lives lost on my account, because of my ineptitude."

Lisa looked sympathetic for a moment, hand reaching out to clutch Hermione's shoulder in a silent show of support, before she nodded resolutely and said, "let's go now then, before you change your mind."

Hermione nodded. It was time to admit that she didn't know what to do anymore. It was time to ask for help.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Next Chapter! Finally! Hope you enjoy. **** (this is a quick update because I forgot to take away one the notes from my editing process, and I'm SO SO SORRY! ESPECIALLY IF YOU NOTICED IT. It was a very big and glaring though, so sorry.)**

**Thanks to the amazing Littleoldmeeeee for betaing for me!**

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Being the annoyingly good person that she was, Lisa insisted that Hermione tell Charlie that she was going to the authorities about the egg, so that he wouldn't worry about it anymore.

Hermione told Lisa that she doubted that Charlie was worrying about anything.

Lisa told Hermione to shut up and start walking.

On the way there, however, Hermione began to think that it might be a good idea. Charlie had helped her to hide the egg's existence when she'd asked him to, and he'd helped her as best he could with what sort of egg it was and what to do with it. So, whilst walking towards Charlie's tent, Hermione was fine with the idea. Really, she was. It was fine. It was a good idea, and it was the decent thing to do.

Standing in front of his tent, with an impatient Lisa standing behind you, hurrying you up because, "any moment could be too late for that egg, Hermione! Suck up your pride, admit you were wrong, and tell the guy so we can get going," could really change a girl's mind.

Hermione glared half-heartedly at Lisa, before taking a deep breath, and pushing open the tent flap, preparing herself for a smug Charlie. But when she looked up, she saw... no one.

"He's not there," Hermione said, coming out of the tent.

That seemed to take the steam out of Lisa's sails, and Hermione could see that she hadn't been expecting her answer.

"I mean, it's not that unexpected. We should have expected it, really. Most people aren't nerds like us, and don't like to spend their only day off sitting in their rooms. Some people actually like being around other people," Hermione said, trying not to sound too relieved at the thought that she wouldn't have to face him.

They both mock-shuddered, then burst out laughing.

Hermione abruptly stopped when she felt a strong pulse, similar to the wave she felt on the night she had first found the egg, only more concentrated, coming from the egg. Alerted by Hermione's sudden silence, Lisa stopped laughing and frowned, taking in Hermione's expression.

"What is it? You look, well, strange really is the only word for it."

Hermione shook her head. "It's, well it's not nothing, but it has happened before. Remember on the night I first found the egg, I told you that I felt a strange sort of wave of affection come over me? I thought it was just a reaction to the thought of any dragon egg, and potentially a dragon being killed, but this time I'm almost a hundred percent sure that it came from the egg."

"It's bonding with you. At least, that's what I think it's doing."

The voice behind them startled the two girls, and they spun around, like they had been caught doing something bad. Which, when you considered the egg they were carrying, Hermione thought, wasn't that far off the mark.

Charlie walked over to them, his hair plastered to his head, and a mixture sweat and dirt (or some other brown substance, Hermione's brain cheerfully reminded her), smeared across his face. He was wearing nothing but a light sleeveless shirt and shorts, with dragon-hide boots. The combination should have looked ridiculous, and Hermione was sure that if anyone else was wearing it, she would have just sniffed disdainfully. On Charlie however, it made something within her tighten, something that she had previously thought that only Ron could awaken.

It felt strange. And wrong.

Since Hermione couldn't sniff disdainfully at him, due to that disconcerting tightening in the vicinity of her belly, she simply looked at him, careful not to let any expression on her face.

Lisa, however, had no such reservations.

"Not that we're complaining about the view, or anything, but really, but did you have to roll around in the dirt, or possibly some other, less savoury substance? You absolutely reek! Couldn't you have done anything on your day off other than, I don't know, play with the dragon cubs?"

Hermione was suddenly very glad she hadn't sniffed, as it was occupying all her attention to simply not gag. It would have been too much, if she had deliberately taken a whiff of the soiled air Charlie was carrying around with him.

Charlie smiled insolently at them.

"It smells delicious, doesn't it? And actual dragon tamers don't have days off. We only get every second weekend off, and any other time we want, we have to use some of our vacation time. Aren't you glad you chose to be a dragon tamer, eh?"

Hermione wasn't bothered. She liked working with dragons, or any animals, really, so she wasn't really complaining about the long work hours. It sounded nice to her, after all that aimless debating she did after the war in her Ministry job. It may have been a nice position, but it took forever to get even the smallest little thing changed. In fact, when Hermione left, she had only just gotten a law passed (which she had been lobbying for at least two years), which stated that all house-elf owners were forbidden from commanding them to punish themselves.

Hermione finally got her voice back. "Yes. I am."

Her cold tone made Charlie lose his grin, and his eyes widened when he saw the egg. His eyes flicked to Lisa, and back to the egg, then up at Hermione as he said, "Hermione, what are you doing here with the egg? Are you finally ready to tell the authorities? Because, otherwise, I have no idea what you're doing here with that. And it's definitely hatching now, even you should be able to see it."

Hermione wanted to snap back at him. She wanted to let him know just what, exactly, she thought of his smarmy comments and condescending tone, (or at least condescending to her ears. She hated being proved wrong), but she knew she wasn't being fair.

So, instead, she let the genuine contriteness she felt show on her face, and said, "I'm sorry, Charlie, I should have listened to you from the start. Lisa's coming with me to give the egg up, but I just wanted to tell you, because, well, you helped me when I first found it. So, yeah. Just wanted to tell you."

Lisa piped up beside Hermione. "And we wondered if you wanted to come with us? I mean, if you want to be connected to two criminals like us. It might be the only way you'll learn more about this egg."

Hermione gaped up at Lisa. Lisa simply grinned down at her.

"Um, yeah, sure. I mean, it's not like I have a squeaky clean record or anything. Being in the know about a mysterious egg is hardly going to hurt it. Let me just go and shower and put on clean clothes real quick."

Charlie ducked past them into the tent, already loosening his pants. Hermione dropped her eyes guiltily, finding these new feelings utterly unwelcome. They were in the midst of a semi-crisis, and she had no business looking at Charlie like, well, that.

Looking up, Hermione saw Lisa's eyes fixed on her face in a way that made her flush, and Lisa grinned gleefully. "Nothing between the two of you, my arse. You could barely look him in the eye just now!"

"That's because you were asking him to come with us, as if we need his help!" Hermione defended.

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that, Hermione," Lisa said, waving her off.

Hermione shook her head. She was going to put Lisa's comments, and her own confusing feelings, out of her mind. She had more important things to focus on at the moment.

Before ten minutes were up, Charlie had appeared again, freshly showered and smelling wonderfully unlike dragon dung.

"Oh, that's a relief. I was worried that all your clothes were going to smell like dragons," Lisa said, sniffing the air appreciatively, only to recoil as they happened to pass a group of dragon tamers, all just as smelly and dirty, maybe even more, than Charlie had been.

Hermione and Charlie laughed.

"You were saying?" Charlie chuckled. "It's Lisa, right?" When Lisa nodded, he continued, "so, how do you know about the egg?"

"Well, I'm Hermione's best friend, and I'm very perceptive, and, no offense Hermione, but you suck at keeping secrets."

Hermione scowled and opened her mouth to defend herself, only to be beaten by Charlie saying, "Oh, you wouldn't say that if you had seen her and my brother and their friend, Harry, when they were still at school. I swear, those three had had more secrets than an ancient Egyptian tomb. And I ought to know; my brother Bill breaks curses for a living."

The other two laughed, but Hermione merely smiled slightly.

Right at that moment, she saw a new colour appear in the now swirling mix of colours already in the egg, and she gasped, alerting the other two to the change.

Charlie pursed his lips and walked faster, forcing Hermione and Lisa to half-jog to keep up, and effectively putting an end to the talking.

When they finally got to the offices, a tall, official building looking very out of place in the field full of otherwise rickety-looking (rickety-looking only, as they were actually quite steady and strong, everyone there being wizards and witches and all), buildings and tents, Hermione was very glad about the mandatory jog every morning, otherwise she was sure she would have been gasping for breath. As it was, she was perfectly presentable, if a little red in the face, when they knocked on the door of the head of the reservation.

The secretary, a thin, nervous looking young man, stood trembling behind Charlie, who had simply ignored his protests and brushed past him. Hermione couldn't say she blamed him. Charlie looked like a man on a mission, and weighed about three times as much as the secretary - probably more.

From behind the door came the imperious-sounding voice of the short, (though strangely intimidating, despite her height), ruddy-faced woman, who had greeted them when they first arrived here. Hermione remembered thinking that she would look more at home in a field with a dragon, than she did in that polished office.

"Who's there?"

"It's Charlie, Maureen, Charlie Weasley."

Hermione hadn't known Ms. McDougal had a first name. Or that anybody was allowed to call her by her first name.

The door flew open to reveal a bespectacled woman with her feet sliding off of her desk and her wand in hand, opening her arms to greet Charlie.

"Oh, Charlie, m'boy! How are you doing? You visit me far too infrequently!" She gave him a hug, while he answered her questions with a smile.

"Oh, I'm doing fine Maureen, just fine, how about you? Well, you do keep us dragon tamers quite busy, so I won't take all the responsibility for that one."

"Nor should you. And I'm doing just fine, though the little ones are asking after their uncle Charlie."

Hermione looked closer, and detected a hint of the Weasley red hair and freckles. That explained it then, though she was surprised she hadn't noticed it the first time she met the woman. She did know that the Weasleys seem to be related to everybody.

"Since I do keep you all busy enough not to warrant flitting around and being social, I have to assume that this isn't just a social call?" she asked, looking over her glasses at Hermione and Lisa, both of whom were feeling distinctly out of place in the company of two people who seemed to know each other so well.

Following her gaze, Charlie said, "Yes, unfortunately, this isn't just a social call, much as I would like it to be. This is Hermione Granger," he waved his hand to Hermione, who awkwardly shifted the egg to one side to offer her hand, which wasn't taken up, "and this is Lisa..."

"Heathrow," Lisa supplied enthusiastically.

"... Heathrow, and we're here to ask about an egg. A dragon egg, to be specific."

Ms McDougal had sidled past Hermione's hand and Lisa's awkward attempt at a hug, (Hermione mentally face palmed herself. Lisa was prone to being much too friendly) and was now gazing reverently at the egg.

"What's that?" the secretary piped up, successfully making everyone aware that they had an audience.

After shooing the man out of the room ("Though he could just as well have stayed, he's seen everything worth seeing, and knowing my secretary, this will be all over the reservation by nightfall"), they sat down, Ms McDougal now holding the egg in her arms.

"Do you know what sort of egg it is?" Hermione asked, eager for new information.

Ms McDougal shook her head. "No idea. But, it's obvious that it is hatching, so if you tell me under which dragon you found it, we can narrow down the possibilities."

Hermione, Lisa and Charlie looked awkwardly at each other. Ms McDougal looked up, and noticed. "What is it? What're you not telling me?"

Hermione shrugged and said, "It's just, I just found it. I was cleaning out a breeding cage, and it was just lying there. I picked it up and went to Charlie to find out what it was, but he didn't know. The best he could do was guess."

"What did you think it was?" Ms McDougal asked, her sharp eye now turned to Charlie.

"Well, at first I was just as dumbfounded as you, but then I remembered that I had read something about it in my…. When I was cleaning the library, before it burned down, and I thought that maybe that could be it. You know, the white dragon myth?"

Ms McDougal nodded thoughtfully. "It's not an impossibility, I guess. We do live in a world of magic, after all." If Hermione didn't know that Ms McDougal was related to the Weasleys, she would have suspected that she was Muggle born. Not many purebloods and half-bloods remembered how amazing it was that something like magic existed, and how impossible it really was.

Ms McDougal was still muttering. "A shame that the library burned down, though….. We really should have put better charms on it." Dumping the egg on her desk, she stood up. "Well, thank you for bringing this to me, I'll be sure to give it my full attention. You may leave now, you've done your duty."

"Wait, aren't we going to help, researching about the egg and- and helping you?" Hermione asked, shocked at being dismissed so easily.

Ms McDougal looked confused. "No, of course not, girl, you're just a trainee, you have next to no experience with dragon eggs and how to handle them. Now that you've done your duty, you can go in peace."

This time, Charlie tried to say something. "But, Maureen, you know as well as I do that dragon eggs bond with people, usually the first person to pick them up. It's never been proven, but we all know that if someone has touched the egg or was there for the hatching and touched the cub, that person usually has an easier time taming the dragon. And with the unusual case of this egg, we might consider keeping Hermione informed at least-"

Ms McDougal cut him off. "I understand your concern, Charlie, but this is nothing that I can't handle. That little girl," she pointed at Hermione, who was feeling extremely hurt and insulted, yet furiously angry at the same time, "doesn't know anything that we don't know. If it becomes necessary to have a bonder near us, we will call her. Until then, she really should get on with her training."

Hermione wasn't going to be silenced that easily, and talked over as if she was some infant that didn't understand what the grownups were talking about. "But, the egg is obviously hatching, and, well, it began hatching when I found it and I just think, I think I should stay close to it and-"

"Ms. Granger," Ms. McDougal cut her off. "I appreciate that you took the time to come to me and personally deliver the egg, but your work is done now. Now, I'm sure that you have more than enough going on with your training and all, so you really should get going. Goodbye." She smiled politely.

While that was clearly a dismissal, Hermione was opening her mouth to say more when Charlie grabbed her arm and towed her out after him, Lisa following them demurely, and closing the door behind her. Charlie kept his tight grip on her arm until they were out of the building, where Hermione finally wrenched herself free.

"What was that all about?" she asked, rubbing her arm, "dragging me around like that."

"You were out of line. Maureen knows what she's doing, and she's right, you're just a trainee. Barely one, at that. You can relax now, competent people are in control."

With that Charlie turned around and left, leaving Hermione gaping.

"But what about the bond?" she called after him.

He paused for a second, before answering without turning around. "She said she'll call you if you're needed. That's more than you should expect, really. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

She turned to Lisa to complain, but found her nodding along. "He's right, you know. You may be the smartest person I know, but it's only booksmarts. Neither of us has the experience that Ms McDougal has, and, well, she did say that she'll call you if she needs you."

That shut Hermione up, and though she still thought that she should be involved, she didn't have any more arguments except the childish "But I found it first!" and somehow, she didn't think that would fly in Ms McDougal's office.

Lisa began walking away in the direction of their dorm, and since she couldn't actually throw a tantrum like a two year old, Hermione folded her arms, fixed her face in a pout, and followed Lisa.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Next chapter. Enjoy!**

**Thanks to the wonderful Littleoldmeeeee for betaing this and not getting impatient with my erratic updating schedule.**

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

After that thoroughly humiliating interview with Ms McDougal, there wasn't much Hermione could do. She wanted to help, and she wanted to be a part of it, whatever it actually was. She just had the feeling that she was missing out on what could potentially be a very big thing, and she felt like she had some right to be curious, given that she had found the egg in the first place. (She did finally understand McDougal's point, and although intellectually she agreed with the woman, emotionally she couldn't help but feel cheated.)

Unfortunately for her, everyone else also thought that they had the right to be curious. McDougal had been right about her secretary's gossiping, because when Hermione woke up the next day, it was all people could talk about.

Some people claimed that it was a dinosaur egg, which had been found under a dragon and had begun to hatch. (Hermione snorted into her cereal when she heard this and had to be hit on the back repeatedly by Lisa, who, admittedly, wasn't doing much better at hiding her mirth.) Others were saying it wasn't an egg, but an electronic Muggle device which had been sent there to spy on them. And those were just the stories that made the most sense.

It seemed that the secretary had thought that simply telling people that there was an unidentified egg found wasn't enough, and he had started lashing tales onto his story to make it more sensational. Either way, he didn't seem to think that Hermione and Lisa were important enough to mention in the tale, as nobody even looked twice at them. For that, Hermione was thankful. She had had enough of people coddling up to her to get information and inside scoops to last a lifetime.

Charlie, however, had not been so lucky.

His name was linked in some way to all the stories being told that day, from being the one who had found the egg, to being the one destined to ride the mystical sea-serpent that was going to emerge from it. (Some stories made absolutely no sense.)

"Dragon tamers seriously need to get a life!" Lisa groused after their lunch break, having just passed what seemed like the hundredth group of fully trained dragon tamers discussing the egg. "I mean, you would think that, being dragon tamers and having so little time off, as Charlie so graciously told us yesterday, they would have something more interesting to talk about, than whether or not it actually is a serpent inside the egg. I mean, IT'S NOT LIKE YOU HAVE HAD FOUR YEARS OF TRAINING TO TELL YOU THAT IT'S NOT ACTUALLY POSSIBLE!" She yells this at the group they had just passed, and Hermione was tickled to see them flushing and looking uncomfortable, before breaking apart and wandering off.

"It kind of is their business, Lisa," Hermione tries to placate her friend. "I mean, they are dragon tamers, and anything new in the world of dragons involves them as well, seeing as they have made it their life's work. And, you heard what McDougal said yesterday, it IS magic, after all."

Lisa frowned.

"Yes, it is magic, but magic is like a Muggle science, isn't it? I mean, you read the books, you know that magic can't make something out of nothing, and that there are definite rules governing what magic can and cannot do, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"Yes, but I still think that trying to explain magic in scientific terms is a bit like trying to traverse the entire ocean on a raft. Technically possible, but headed for failure from the very beginning, and not something that anyone sane would attempt anyway." Hermione shrugged. "But, that's just my opinion."

At that moment they got back to Balder, who seemed to be in a really foul mood if the tirade he was raining down on some poor trainee, who had dared to talk while he worked, was anything to go by, and they wisely decided to postpone their conversation for later.

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon doing the (supposedly) relatively easy and relaxing job of writing up the details of the recent dragon shipments and updating the files on the older dragons. The job technically needed only one person to check the dragon and then write up what they had found, but Balder seemed, unusually, to have taken pity on the first year trainees and he allowed them to work in pairs. His pity stopped there however, as he didn't allow them to pick their own partners, instead picking them for them.

Lisa had been lucky, getting sorted with Kim, who she seemed to get along with just fine.

Hermione was sure that, given the right partner, she would have been having as pleasant a time as Lisa seemed to be having, but, well, she didn't get the right partner.

Hermione didn't get a bad partner per say, in that that he didn't smell and wasn't rude or obnoxious, but she did wonder why she had bothered to study and stress so much for the entrance exam if they had allowed this idiot into the programme.

"No!" Hermione shouted exasperatedly, crossing out what he'd written on the Chinese Fireball, and pencilling in the correct terms, before handing the pad of paper and pen back. She had at first been holding the paper and pen, but that had lasted all of one dragon until she had realised that he had no idea what he was looking for and was just sprouting random terms whilst, predictably, as a bit of a perfectionist, she double-checked everything after they were done with a dragon..

This way, with her doing the checking up, she could at least hope that he was doing something correctly, even if it was simply writing the name of the dragon.

"Okay, let's try that again," Hermione said, walking on to the next dragon and dragging Gordon by the arm, not trusting him to follow her on his own accord. "You write down exactly what I tell you to, and where I tell you to write it. Don't make anything up!" she warned him, hoping that he would do as she told him to.

All the other groups were almost finished with their dragon write-ups, while Hermione and Gordon still had at least ten more to go. She was going to, well, probably not kill him, but she would be very, very angry at Gordon if they were still out there until after sunset.

Long after Lisa had said goodbye, done with their twenty dragons in record time because while Kim wasn't the most pleasant person to be around, (at least to Hermione), she was actually really smart and didn't need Lisa to spell everything out for her, Hermione and Gordon were still busy, with five more to go. Even with Hermione literally spelling everything out for him, (he had trouble with the word dragon, though he had looked a bit jittery when he wrote it, and she supposed she was being a bit harsh, even for her), she still found a multitude of errors when she went over the work. She was beginning to suspect he had rich parents or a family member that paid the dragon reserve off to let him in. She sincerely hoped that they weren't actually going to allow him to graduate and work with dragons.

When she found the fifth mistake in as many minutes, Hermione snapped.

"What are you even doing here, you idiot!" Gordon looked terrified. "Oh my God, just go away. I'll finish this up myself, I just, I can't deal with your stupidity. Just go, please."

Gordon looked close to tears when he turned tail and ran, and for a moment Hermione felt guilty. He probably couldn't help it, and now she had just called him an idiot to his face. And, to be fair, he had gotten most of what she said down, just not in the correct terms and not in the correct places. Her guilt quickly faded however when she turned around and looked at the dragons she still had to complete. While she did work faster alone, she was tired and it took at least half an hour to thoroughly check and re-check a dragon.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that dinner was coming up and that she was most likely going to miss it.

She heaved a disgruntled sigh and trudged to the next dragon, having resigned herself to her fate.

"Why are you still here? Didn't your group finish up hours ago?"

Hermione was proud of herself that she didn't visibly react to Charlie's voice. Though her heart had almost jumped out of her throat inside her, as she had believed that she was alone, she kept her façade quite calm. Or so she thought until she heard him snickering quietly behind her. Agitated and angry, not just because he had scared her but because he had not supported her yesterday against McDougal, barely even mouthing a single protest in her favour, she turned around.

"My partner was an idiot who spelled five out of every ten words incorrectly, and I finally sent him away five minutes ago, figuring that I could probably finish quicker on my own than I could with him. And what do you care anyway?"

Hermione knew she sounded petulant. She didn't like it, but she wasn't going to apologise for it.

Charlie frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest, making his arm muscles bulge in a way that reminded Hermione acutely of how he had looked that previous day. And how that had made her feel.

"Harsh much, Hermione? I know you're not one to suffer ignorance gladly, but I had it on good authority that you could always be counted on to help those less fortunate than you. Or less endowed, if you will. Like that Neville Longbottom fellow. I heard that before his crazily heroic acts in the war he was a bit of a loser. Maybe you just scared your partner a bit, you are a bit intimidating, you have to admit. And, of course I care about you Hermione. You're my little brother's best friend. And, I would like to think, my friend. But, be realistic Hermione. Even as your friend, I couldn't support you against the head of the reservation, even if she is family. It wouldn't be proper. And, I happen to think she's right."

Hermione's temper, which had been on short strings all day, flared up.

"Neville was not a loser. Not then, and not now. He was always a nice, sweet boy, courageous, and a true friend. Gordon doesn't seem like he has any friends…." Hermione's voice trailed off, and a fresh wave of guilt hit her. She pushed it aside however, making room for her anger and irritation. "I know that she's the head of the reservation and whatnot and I didn't expect you to be disrespectful, but I did expect you to back me up. And of course we're friends."

Charlie, instead of getting angry, as Hermione half hoped he would, as she felt like she needed a good ranting session, smiled softly.

"Yes, Neville's a nice boy. Maybe Gordon is too. If it'll make you feel better, I'll talk to Maureen again, ask her if she doesn't have anything for you to do. Or if she could keep you informed. I'm glad we're friends."

Hermione's anger evaporated like mist on a sunny morning, and she smiled and ran to throw her arms around Charlie. He stiffened for a moment in her arms, making her wonder if she did the wrong thing and she had started to pull back, before his arms rose to encircle her and draw her closer.

"Thank you, thank you Charlie!"

Hermione held onto him for a few seconds more, (definitely not inhaling his scent, because that would make her some sort of pervert), maybe a few seconds too long, though she didn't want to examine that too closely, before stepping back, her arms falling to her sides.

Charlie was grinning reluctantly.

"Alright, alright. Don't get your hopes up though. I'm not promising anything. Here," he took the pen (the wizards and witches in the dragon reserve used Muggle pens and pencils, something Hermione was very grateful for), and paper, "why don't you give that to me? I'll fill it in for you, and in exchange you can go and get yourself some dinner and promise never to be unreasonably mad at me again. Deal? Oh, and I have finished my chores and eaten my dinner already, so it isn't a bother. I can do this in half an hour tops."

Hermione laughed, not sure whether to believe him, but desperate enough to do so.

"Deal."

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

It was only later that night, while she was in the showers that Hermione wondered at herself. She was not exactly what one would call a tactile person, and for her to hug someone, even someone she considered a friend, (excepting Harry and Ron, because, well, they're them), was highly out of character for her.

When she noticed a bit of blood sluicing into the drain, and correctly concluded where it had come from, she decided to blame her touchy feely moment on that. And her attitude toward poor Gordon. And everything illogical that she had done in the past two days, though that really wasn't reasonable.

She didn't want to deal with her confusing feelings right then. She promised herself, as she got out of the shower, that she would examine all her feelings once her period passed, and see whether any of them were valid anymore. And when her stomach didn't feel like it was tearing itself out, as she could already feel the pain setting in.

It was going to be a lovely week. Full of suppressing emotions and hiding her stomach pains, as the Wizarding world, infuriatingly enough, was even more awkward about a woman's time of the month than the Muggle world was, if such a thing were possible.

Curling up in her bed, a warm compress pressed to her lower abdomen, Hermione fell asleep, already half-dreading the week ahead.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I just want to say thank you to everyone who's been with this story from the beginning, since heavens know I take very long to update. Even those who joined the bandwagon later on, your support is greatly appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Thanks to the brilliant Littleoldmeeeee for betaing this for me.**

**Disclaimer: Anything and everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

The next day was… surprisingly not as painful as Hermione had envisioned it would be the night before. She had woken up with cramps alright, but Lisa had a quick fix for it when Hermione complained about it at breakfast. Although Hermione prided herself on her knowledge of medicinal remedies, she had never thought to look in a women's magazine for spells to take care of those pesky monthly cramps. She had wondered, of course, why they weren't in the various medical texts she had studied, but she had put it down to the largely patriarchal view the Wizarding community still had on a lot of things.

Not that that made it right, of course. But she had understood why it would be like that. At that point in time, though it irritated her on a fundamental level, she was too busy searching for spells that could help her and Harry and Ron to get really worked up about it.

When she told Lisa this, Lisa smiled and rolled her eyes at Hermione.

"How can you be so dumb whilst still being so smart? It boggles the mind, truly. And didn't you think to do more in-depth research about it when, you know, everything settled down?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I just kept on using Muggle pain medication. It helps, though it only kind of dulls the pain, and it's familiar. I only complained now because in all the confusion about the egg and all, I forgot to restock, and would have had to walk around with the pain the whole day before I would get a chance to go to the store," Hermione answered, taking a bite from her jam-covered toast.

"Well, let this be a lesson to you never to shun some magazines, just because you deem them too girly for you," Lisa said. She waved her wand in some complicated twirls and swirls, making Hermione's eyes cross over each other while she tried to follow the movements, and said, "_Period Dolores Recedemus_."

None of the people of the male variety paid any attention to a girl waving her wand around and muttering a spell they didn't recognise, but the females around them who heard her words turned to flash a sympathetic glance at Hermione, once they figured out who the spell was intended for.

Whilst normally Hermione would have been irritated by the glances thrown her way, her attention wasn't on her surroundings at all. All she felt at that moment, was the complete cessation of pain. No more sharp jabs in her lower stomach, nor the persistent dull ache that stayed even after she had taken her usual medication.

Hermione beamed at Lisa and thanked her, silently vowing to never look down on any magazine as too girly for her ever again.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

With almost all of the discomfort that accompanies a woman at her time of the month gone, Hermione felt ready to seize the day.

She was so cheery that morning while they were getting their tasks assigned to them by Balder, (having pain suddenly disappear could do that to a girl), that he decided that she was 'up to something' (which reminded her of Professor Snape, causing her to burst out in a fit of giggles, which in turn caused Balder to glare even more forcefully at her), that he assigned her the worst job that a potential trainee could get: filing papers in the main building, acting as an assistant to the secretary of the head of the reservation.

This post was routinely filled by trainees, old and young, who misbehaved or broke some minor rules, and needed to be put in their places a bit. Usually the trainees were rowdy enough that there was one assigned to the post once a week for the whole week. On the off times that there weren't any misbehaving trainees, they picked on the first-year trainees, and a different one got the chore to go there and help every day.

On any other day, Hermione would have been severely put out about being given a job like that, as though she actually enjoyed filing and didn't see it as such a massive chore as most of the other trainees did, she still wouldn't have wanted to miss a chance to work with the dragons first-hand. When Balder gave her the assignment that day though, she had to suppress her urge to smile. If she did, he would probably try to think up something truly horrible for her to do.

As it was, the filing job was a dream come true at that moment. Aside from the obvious, she now had access to McDougal, and, whether the woman liked it or not, she was going to pester her until she agreed to let Hermione in on the project with the egg.

She knew that Charlie had promised to speak to McDougal about involving her with the egg again, but she had a suspicion that that would take a few days at least. Now, she had a chance to make it happen faster.

Hermione's expectations in the job was severely disappointed, however. She had expected to be able to slip into McDougal's office quickly and talk with her when she had an off moment, as she was sure she could finish the filing in an hour or two.

Not only were her expectations of slipping into McDougal's office thwarted by McDougal not even being in her office when she got there, something about a meeting with the sponsors the secretary said, but the mountain of papers she had to file, well, it surprised her, to say the least.

Instead of the few piles of paper she had expected, she was greeted by a veritable mountain of forms and paperwork of all kind, all piled on top of two desks which were pushed into a dark room. She had a new sympathy for the trainees who were forced to spend a whole week here. Not only would she have to sort them into piles, she would also then have to find a way to file them that didn't bring down the building with their weight. To make matters even worse, she knew for a fact that this amount of filing would take her at least a month to finish, and she was only there a day, meaning that the next person who came would first have to figure out her system before they could continue. (It didn't help that she knew most trainees wouldn't, and would instead just start sorting through the pages at random.) Nor did it help matters that every now and then a figure, usually bowed over some sort of clipboard, would scurry into the room, and dump some more papers onto the massive growing pile.

The secretary, who Hermione was beginning to legitimately hate, seemed to sense her dismay, and smirked at her from behind his own clipboard.

"Obviously you won't finish this, but I expect at least a quarter of this gone by the time I get back. That's all, you may get to work."

With that he left Hermione alone with the papers. She may have been mistaken, but she felt as if they were silently mocking her.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

By the time the secretary returned, Hermione was dusty, grumpy, hungry, and not even an eighth of the way through the papers. The secretary (whose name, Hermione learned from the badge that she somehow hadn't noticed earlier pinned to his lapel, was Marvin), didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, he simply sighed and said, "well, I guess you aren't as good at sorting things as Charlie said you were."

Hermione's head snapped up.

"What? Charlie said I was good at sorting papers?"

Marvin nodded."Yes, when he asked me if you could get this job for a while. I have to say, I was surprised you wanted it. Most trainees seem to view this as a punishment. He said you liked a challenge though." He looked around at the still cluttered room. "Looks like this challenge has you beat."

Hermione's mind was racing a mile a minute. If Charlie had tried to get her this job, and it wasn't just a punishment that Balder had thought up, that meant that he had had the same thought she had about talking to McDougal! That meant he thought she might have a chance to convince McDougal to allow her access to the egg.

"So, it wasn't a punishment from Balder, this job?" Hermione hazarded, trying to solidify her suspicions, ignoring the jab at her competence. She had nothing to prove to this snooty young man.

Marvin seemed offended. "No, of course not girl. I requested you specifically. Charlie was quite…. persuasive."

Hermione didn't know what Marvin meant with that delicate little hesitation, but she had her suspicions. It was quite obvious what gender Marvin preferred, and she didn't see it as beneath Charlie to use to his advantage. She just hadn't expected him to use it to _her_ advantage.

"It's a pity you aren't as good as he said you were. You're here for the whole week, and I'd hoped to get everything sorted by then."

"Everything sorted?" Hermione burst out, feeling immensely put-upon. "Don't take this the wrong way, Marvin, but an army of people working here for a whole week couldn't put things in order exactly the way they ought to be. I could maybe do it in a month, if those people," she pointed at another clipboarded figure who had just dropped some papers onto the pile, and who looked up startled when Hermione and Marvin looked at him, before rushing off, "weren't adding to the piles the whole time. The files that I have managed to sort into groups, with the help of magic, by the way, were replaced just as quickly by the files they dropped off."

"Yes, Marvin, it really isn't fair of you to expect so much of poor Miss Granger. In fact, I'm pretty sure I told you to stop using trainees to sort the files and sort them yourself as they come in, but no, you couldn't possibly, being too busy with, something or other, I suppose."

McDougal had appeared in the doorway while Hermione and Marvin were having their little argument, and was now surveying the scene with a critical, though amused eye.

"Miss McDougal, I assure you, I have tried my best to sort out these papers, it's just I really am very busy and it serves as a great deterrent for the trainees-"

McDougal held up a hand to silence him. Hermione stayed silent, watching their exchange with wide eyes, and tried not to look too happy to see McDougal, though she suspected she didn't succeed, based on the arch look McDougal gave her before turning back to Marvin.

"Stop your blathering, Marvin, dear. I know you try your best, I was just pulling your leg. But, please, do get on with your work while I have a word with Miss Granger."

Marvin nodded quickly and motored off, leaving Hermione looking after him almost jealously. She had a suspicion that McDougal knew that she wasn't there for punishment.

"So, Miss Granger, or may I call you Hermione," she didn't wait for Hermione's nod to continue, "it seems like my nephew Charlie has taken quite a shine to you." Hermione blushed, and tried to convince herself that she didn't know why. "Last night, as I was locking up the office, he cornered me, and begged me to reconsider taking you in on the egg-case."

Hermione held her breath, sensing that she was at a pivotal moment.

McDougal sighed, and her shoulders, which were always held straight and proud despite her short length, bent in on themselves.

"To be very honest my dear, I really don't know what to do any more. I may have approached you on my own account, even without Charlie's intervention. The egg is not responding well. From the moment we took it from you, it has been losing, well, life-essence is really the only thing to call it. The life of the dragon inside seems to be fading away, and last night the egg started to disappear."

Hermione wanted to stay silent and let McDougal talk her piece, but this was just too much.

"Disappear? What do you mean disappear?"

"Exactly that. It had started to fade at the edges when I left it this morning, almost as if it had no real anchor to the world. Charlie mentioned that you had a sort of connection to the egg. Would you mind coming with me to the egg to see if that connection would anchor it again, maybe bring some of the life-essence back? Whatever species of dragon is in that egg, it doesn't deserve to die, especially not in the hands of the head of a dragon-reservation. That would be the height of irony."

Though McDougal said all of this with a wry twist to her mouth, as if she was laughing at herself, Hermione had the distinct sensation that she was honestly desperate. Why else would she, despite Charlie being her nephew and pleading with her, ask Hermione, a lowly first year trainee, for help?

Whether or not she would help, well, of course, that wasn't even a question.

"Of course I'll help. When do we go?"

McDougal didn't look at all that surprised when Hermione agreed so easily and merely smiled tiredly and said, "right now would be good, really."

"But what about Marvin?" Hermione fretted, looking over at the paperwork she still had to file.

"Don't worry about him, he won't mind. Oh, and that spell you put on yourself this morning to help with the cramps, it'll wear off in half an hour, so you might want to reapply it now."

Hermione flushed hotly. "How did you….?"

"Oh, dear, I have four daughters and I work with the most temperamental creatures on the planet. I know how to spot when a women is menstruating."

If McDougal found it uncomfortable in the least to be discussing menstruation with someone she barely knew in an office where anybody could walk in and hear them, she gave no sign of it. While Hermione was a staunch supporter of woman's rights and didn't think that women should be ashamed of their bodily functions, she still wouldn't discuss something as personal as that with a total stranger. She respected McDougal for it though, and she did quickly reapply the charm before following McDougal who was waiting for her at the office doors.

And though McDougal had said that Marvin wouldn't mind her going, Hermione saw him glowering after them when she passed him. She had restrain herself from cheekily sticking her tongue out at him.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

The egg was located in McDougal's house, to Hermione surprise.

She wasn't sure where she thought the egg would be, maybe in some remote storeroom on the reservation, but they had to physically apparate from reservation grounds to McDougal's house.

Her house was at the same time a comforting scene and a bittersweet one. It had the same homey feel that the Weasley's family home had, though without the tottering stories, stacked on one another like so many playing-blocks. Hermione would never say it aloud, of course, but she thought it severely detracted from the ultimate feel of the place, though it also spared her from the worst of her homesickness, as it didn't look exactly like the Weasley's house.

McDougal shooed some chickens out from under her feet as they walked towards the front door, and Hermione stifled a giggle as the biggest hen seemed to look indignantly at McDougal as she pushed past, before continuing on its way like a stately matron.

There lay a few friendly-looking dogs in front of the door, and Hermione bent down to pet them as McDougal reached to open the door.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," McDougal's voice stopped her, and Hermione's hand paused in front of the smiling face of a big sheepdog. "They're trained to bite if they don't know the scent. They've only held back so far because they sense no hostility from me to you. But, still, I wouldn't push my luck if I were you."

Hermione snatched her hand away from a sheepdog that suddenly seemed a lot less friendly, the smile she thought it had looking like a snarl.

She stepped hurriedly into the house after McDougal, shutting the door behind her. Turning around, the feeling of the Weasley's house faded even more. While Mrs Weasley was a wonderful cook and a wonderful mother, she never was and never would be the best cleaner, so the house always had a bit of a lived in look about it. Which Hermione liked, make no mistake. The house that McDougal was currently standing in, made Hermione wonder how she could stand to work in a place that didn't have everything listed, numbered, and ordered to the t.

It wasn't steel chrome and glossy surfaces like Hermione had seen in some Muggle magazines, but it was as close to that as a house that had chickens in the front yard could get.

Everything seemed to have a place, positioned at its best angle to give the viewer the maximum satisfaction out of looking at it. In fact, it was so aesthetically pleasing that it hurt Hermione's eyes. Her eyes roved around the room, looking for one thing she could focus on that didn't make her feel horribly inadequate. Thankfully, in the centre of the dining table, there was a space, with all the things that were originally on the table cleared to one side to make room for a big, fire-proof basket (Hermione could tell because it was literally sitting in flames and it didn't have one burn mark on it), surrounded by magical dragon fire.

In it lay the egg, which, Hermione grimly noted, really was starting to fade away.

"I'm sorry about the mess, but these past few days have just been hectic at work, and now we have this egg here as well. It, well, it doesn't normally look like this."

"What, are the ornaments usually arranged by mathematical degrees?" Hermione muttered, giving another fleeting look around the room before drawing closer to the egg.

McDougal answered with a sigh."Yes, they are. You can really feel that they're not in their intended position, right?"

Hermione had half-feared and half-hoped that her comment would ruffle McDougal's feathers, but she seemed so sincerely worried about her house not being neat enough, that Hermione couldn't find another Ron-like comment in her.

Instead she just smiled and said, "It's alright Miss McDougal. I can barely feel it at all."

That seemed to reassure McDougal and she perked up and gestured to the egg.

"Well, there it is. I suppose you should touch it, or something."

Hermione was relieved to find that she wasn't the only one who seemed to be out of her depth here, and she nodded once at McDougal before reaching out and laying her hand on the egg.

The effect was instantaneous.

The egg transformed from the bleak, grey, lifeless thing it was when Hermione had entered the house, into a kaleidoscope of colour. Hermione felt like she was being lit on fire, but in a good way. (Later, when Lisa asked her about it and she told her about the feeling, Lisa snorted, and asked how it could possibly feel good, being lit on fire. Hermione didn't answer her.)

Before Hermione knew what she was doing, she had transferred the egg from the basket into her arms, and she was cradling it like it was a baby. When she turned around to face McDougal, the woman seemed gobsmacked.

Hermione looked down at the egg, wondering if the colouring of it was really so surprising, but what she saw of herself almost made her drop the egg from pure shock.

Hermione was _glowing_.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Next chapter! I'm going to try and keep to a weekly-ish schedule, like seriously this time, so if it's been a week don't be afraid to drop me a PM and ask where the hell the next chapter is. Enjoy!**

**Thanks to the lovely Littleoldmeeeee for betaing this for me. Your comments make me so happy!**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Hermione thankfully, stopped glowing after she had put the egg down, which she did as soon as she realised that she was glowing. She looked over at McDougal, who was staring at her with a slightly open mouth.

Hermione cleared her throat, crossed her arms across her chest and said, "um. Well, that was quite something. Guess there's some truth to that bonding idea Charlie had…."

She trailed off, looking around uncomfortably, wincing when she saw the too aesthetically pleasing room, and fixing her eyes on the egg instead. The change her touch had wrought in the egg really was remarkable. As McDougal had said in the office, when Hermione had arrived, it had looked like the egg had lost its life-essence and was now just listlessly laying around waiting to fade. After she had touched it, however, the colours that had filled the egg the last time Hermione had seen it were back, only this time they were ten times brighter and more colourful. It seemed almost to be pulsing with an inner light.

"Stop! Don't touch it again!"

McDougal's voice startled Hermione out of her thoughts, and she was shocked to discover that her hand had, indeed, begun to reach out to the egg again, as if it was drawn towards it by a force greater than her own willpower. She snatched her hand back and folded her hands tightly across her chest once again, determined to keep them under her control.

"I, I'm sorry. But, why shouldn't I touch it again?"

McDougal frowned at the egg before answering.

"Now that I know that the egg isn't in any danger of dying, or disappearing, as it seems wont to do, since I suppose it had appeared out of thin air if you are to be believed, I don't think we should speed on the hatching of the egg any more than we need to. I want to keep the egg healthy, so you'll come here every day, or every other day or so, depending on what the egg looks like to me that day, just to touch it and keep it from disappearing. We still don't know what's in that egg, and until we do I want to keep it from hatching for as long as we possibly can."

McDougal's voice sounded fierce, and Hermione understood that though she would do everything in her power to make sure that this egg survived, she would rather have the egg over-incubate than let a creature they didn't know or couldn't control into the world to terrorise the people.

"Of course, I understand. Will I be informed of the condition of the egg? Like, when it's about to hatch, I would like to be here. And after it's hatched, if it's tameable, I would like to be part of its life."

Hermione kept her head down as she asked this, studying the smooth wooden floor under her feet. She knew that she was asking a big favour. Most final-year trainees would be considered extremely lucky if they were allowed to have a hand in the rearing of a dragon cub. That task was delegated to the most experienced of dragon tamers, given that one wrong move or one wrong word, could make or break a dragon. Hermione had heard that it was almost like breaking a colt - that only the most experienced people could break a colt, or they risked teaching it ways that would be hard to train out. Of course, if you mess up the taming of colt, the worst you could expect was biting and kicking. If you messed up the taming of a dragon cub, well, you could die.

So, Hermione knew she was asking something barely granted to final-years. She knew she was asking something that the most qualified dragon tamers took on with extreme caution. She also knew that she had to do it. It was a feeling deep in her gut, almost pushing her to try. She also knew that, given what she and McDougal had just witnessed, McDougal would be hard pressed to say no, as the bond that she and the egg seemed to share would undoubtedly transfer over to the dragon inside, which meant that it may make the dragon easier to tame.

Still, McDougal could say no.

"Of course you will be involved in the taming of this dragon, girl. I would be utterly mad to not include you. But, I'm warning you, one wrong move and you're out. Also, we'll need your, as Charlie put it 'fan-fucking-tastic' researching skills, if we want to learn more about this dragon before it hatches."

By the time McDougal had finished her speech, Hermione was smiling from ear to ear, not even trying to hide it.

McDougal seemed pleased, and seemed just about to say something, when the sheepdog which had given Hermione such a fright when she arrived, started barking.

"What now?" McDougal muttered, making her way to the door and pushing it open, revealing the sheepdog with its hackles raised and barking its head off.

"Oh, Eric, you know better than to bring home new animals without bringing their scent first. You know it drives Maria absolutely bonkers."

The dog's name was Maria?

Hermione peeked over McDougal shoulder to see a young, red-haired boy, with two frightened looking mice in his hands, scuffing his shoes and avoiding McDougal's eyes.

"But, mum," he whined, still not looking up from the ground, "I won them from Theo, and he wasn't going to let me have them if I didn't take them right away."

McDougal narrowed her eyes at her son, and said, "you still know better. And why won't you look up now? Don't tell me you're shy about that black eye you've got?"

The boys' mouth opened in protest and he lifted his head to look at his mother, thereby revealing a shiny, swollen eye. Hermione winced, acutely reminded of the black eye she had received when she unwisely looked in the boxes Fred and George had left in the Weasley house in sixth year.

McDougal tsked and waved the boy over, grabbing his chin as soon as he was near enough, and tilting up his face so that she could examine the contusion from all angles.

"Bad one you there. I could heal it, but I think I'm going to let it be to teach you a lesson You know you're not supposed to get into fights."

Eric nodded, but his eyes were fixed on Hermione, who was standing just behind McDougal, feeling a bit in the way.

"Who's she?" Eric asked, sniffing loudly.

Without turning around, McDougal said sharply, "one of my colleagues who was just leaving."

Hermione took her cue and walked out of the door in the space left by McDougal. She walked until she felt the safety barriers around the house pop inside her ears, and when she turned around, Eric and McDougal were watching her. Hermione nodded at them, before turning on the spot, apparating. Her final thought, or rather, feeling, as she saw them on the steps of the house, was jubilation that she was going to get to be a part of the egg-hatching and possibly dragon-taming and raising process. She thought it a bit strange that McDougal had seemed so keen to get rid of her once her boy arrived, but it probably had something to do with the fact that she didn't really know Hermione, and was very protective over her family, just like Mrs Weasley was.

After that, the squeezing feeling of the apparition got to be too much, and she abandoned all rational thought to just keeping herself sane through the painful pressure of apparating.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Hermione spent the rest of the day trying, and failing, if the scowl on Marvin's face was anything to go by, to sort some of the rest of the paperwork. When the day finally ended, he dismissed her with the instruction that she needn't come back the next day, and Hermione had to admit she couldn't blame him.

She had been so distracted by thoughts of what might possibly be in the egg, and what books and texts she could read that could give her more information, that she had hopelessly lost track of even the little bit of progress she had gotten done before McDougal had taken her away. She kept placing papers on the wrong piles, picking them up and then putting them in the exact same spot again, and she had even caught herself standing with a paper in her hands for about twenty minutes, completely zoned out and lost in her head.

She waved sheepishly at him, and shouted an apology as he locked the door and walked away, leaving her standing in front of the empty building. She didn't know if he had heard her apology, as he didn't react at all.

Hermione shrugged, and went looking for Charlie.

For all that he had done to get her an in with McDougal, she figured that the least he deserved was some sort of thanks from her. Although McDougal had said that she would've approached Hermione about the egg eventually, she still thought that Charlie had had some hand in it. After all, even if he did nothing else, he got her in sooner than she would've been otherwise.

At least, that's what she told herself as she made her way over to his tent. She didn't want to see, him, not at all. She simply wanted to say thank you. It was the polite thing to do, after all, and Hermione Granger was nothing, if not polite.

(Actually, she knew of some Death Eaters and similar scurvy folk who might disagree, but they were prejudiced. Obviously. And if there happened to be some old classmates in there as well, well, they should have known better than to get in Hermione Granger's way when she wanted something.)

When she reached his tent, she was heartened to find light shining from within into the fast increasing gloom outside, and she was just about to open the tent flap when she heard something that made her freeze.

A woman's voice, muffled, came through the thin cloth sides of the tent.

Hermione abruptly felt as if a lead weight had been dropped into her stomach, and although she honestly wanted to get out of there, she couldn't move a muscle.

She berated herself for thinking that Charlie would be alone. He was a healthy, red-blooded male, and not ugly, so it was only logical that he would have women to warm his bed for him. In fact, just a few days ago, (was it just a few days? It felt like more, so much had happened), she had come storming into his tent and scared away a girl. Hermione's logical mind struggled futilely with the hot, raging mess of feelings she didn't even want to begin to untangle.

Hermione's confusing thoughts were interrupted by the woman's voice again, and this time she could make out the words.

"No, Ross. You can't have that sandwich." Cue laughter.

Hermione's confusion swiftly fled as she realised that Charlie was watching a TV show, and she felt mildly embarrassed about the hefty reaction she'd had to the thought of Charlie with a woman.

Before she could make herself scarce, and suffer her embarrassment in peace, the tent flap in front of her swung open. Shocked, she looked into the tent and saw Charlie lazing on his bed, a small, portable Muggle TV sitting on front of him. He had a wand in his hand, and when he looked up to see Hermione, he placed it on his bed and said, "I thought I saw a shadow lurking outside my tent. Why didn't you just come in? If I hadn't thought to check first, I might have just jinxed you ten ways to Sunday, and then where would we be?"

"I was just, I mean, I heard voices and I thought, it's stupid now but…"

She trailed off when she saw Charlie's amused smile.

"You thought I had a girl here, didn't you? Jealous much, Granger?"

Charlie was smirking insufferably, and, irritated and flustered, Hermione lashed out.

"Don't be ridiculous. I simply meant that I had interrupted your, um, meeting, with another girl before, and I just didn't want to intrude. That's all."

Charlie's smirk faltered slightly, but he didn't altogether lose it, which, irrationally, as she didn't really want to make Charlie mad or sad - she was here to thank him for goodness sakes, irritated her. Her apology was less than graceful.

"Anyway, I just came by to say thank you for getting me that job at the office and for talking to McDougal. She came to talk to me today, and I got to see the egg. Just in time it seems, as it was beginning to fade away."

Charlie pushed himself up and regarded her with a raised brow.

"Oh, yeah, no problem. When I got to Maureen, she had already almost made up her mind to ask you for help. I doubt my words did anything but solidify her decision, so I can't take all the thanks for that. As for the office job, well, I thought poor Gordon needed a day to rally himself before talking to you again."

Hermione snorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Oh, really? You were just thinking about poor Gordon when you got me that job, which is quite thankless let me tell you, as Martin seems to have a specific idea on how the papers are to be sorted, despite never even attempting it himself. I think you got me that job just as much to torture me as to put me in McDougal's way. Also, I think you had far too much fun seducing Martin. Thank god he let me go today. According to him I was useless this afternoon after I came back from McDougal's house."

Charlie shrugged unapologetically at the accusations.

"Well, what's the use of helping someone if you can't have a little fun? And, besides, Martin really isn't that bad-looking. In fact, he's quite handsome. Too bad for him that my eye is set toward a certain witch these days….."

He trailed off with a far-off look in his eyes, and Hermione shifted her feet, wondering who the woman was that had caught Charlie's attention. Maybe it was that girl that had poked her head in the tent when she was here before.

Charlie snapped out of whatever trance he was in, a little red in the face. Avoiding Hermione's eyes, (probably nervous that she would tease him for having a crush on someone), he asked, "so, apart from thanking me for my wonderfully kind deeds, was there anything else you wanted?"

Caught off guard, not expecting him to be so obvious in his desire for her to leave, as he clearly wanted to, given his lowered head and crossed arms, she sputtered a bit before answering, "I… No, I mean, that's all. Yes, that's all. Um, thanks again. See you," she faltered before saying tomorrow, since there was actually no guarantee at all that she was going to see him the next day, and ended lamely with, "yes, uh, see you."

She fumbled her way out of the tent after that, sparing a few seconds outside the tent to curse herself for her idiotic behaviour, before making her way to the dorms.

When she got there, everyone had just returned from training and the showers were full. Hermione sighed and resigned herself to having a cold shower long after the rest of the trainees were in bed, and retreated to her bed to start compiling a list of books she had to study and read. Now that she was officially going to be a part of the raising and upbringing of whatever dragon came out of that egg, she had some reading to catch up on.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Next Chapter! Told you I would update once a week. Hope you enjoy!**

**Thanks to Littleoldmeeeee for betaing!**

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Hermione's shower turned out to be even colder than she had expected, and she finished up as quickly as she could, whilst still washing the pertinent bits. She was thankful though, that she didn't have dragon-taming training sweat and dirt to contend with in the cold shower, or she would surely have gotten hypothermia.

When she got back to her bed after the icy cold shower, it was to find Lisa sitting on her bed perusing the hasty list Hermione had made, while waiting for the trainees to finish in the showers.

"Quite a list you got here," Lisa said, as Hermione plopped down on the bed beside her. She made sure that Lisa got a whack in the face with her cold, wet hair, and got the satisfaction of seeing Lisa screech and jump off of Hermione's bed and onto her own. Smiling, Hermione spread herself out on her bed, relaxing her muscles with a sigh. She might not have gotten the exercise that the trainees had gotten, but filing was its own kind of exercise, and her back was aching from all the bending down.

After Lisa had made herself comfortable on her own bed, she asked, still with Hermione's list in her hands, "you're not going to go off on a crazy reading binge again, are you? I mean, I know you love dragons and all, but if this isn't some legitimate reading that someone asked you to do, I'm not allowing you to burn yourself out over something that clearly doesn't concern you." Lisa made a tiny tear in the list. "And I'm tearing up this list."

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

"You are aware of the fact that I know all the names of the books on that list, and that I could just write it over again if you tear it up. Which, of course, you're not going to do."

Lisa grumbled something about 'unfair advantages,' and handed the paper back to Hermione.

"Seriously though, why do you want to read about them again? Did something happen at the office?" Lisa asked, voice muffled as she pulled on a sweater. (It got a bit cold in the evenings, as winter was fast approaching.)

"Yes, as a matter of fact, something did happen."

As Hermione relayed what had happened that day to Lisa, (though leaving out the parts about going to thank Charlie), Lisa's smile faded until, when Hermione finished, she was left with a slight frown on her face.

"What's the matter? Aren't you happy? I now have a guaranteed in with taming a dragon cub and even being part of the hatching of an egg!"

Lisa smiled faintly, before her frown returned.

"Look, Hermione, I'm happy for you, I really am. And I think that if McDougal had to choose someone to help with the taming of a dragon, she couldn't have chosen a more deserving candidate. But, and this is a big but, the fact is that you don't know what's in that egg. For all you know it could be an untameable, man-eating dragon. That breathes lightning," Hermione caught her breath as she remembered that Charlie had talked about a dragon that breathed lightning, when she had shown him the egg that first time. Lisa didn't seem to notice Hermione's stumble, "or, or poisonous gases or something. My point is that I don't want you to get too attached to the idea of something that may not turn out the way you want it to turn out."

Hermione nodded. She understood where Lisa was coming from, it wasn't as if Hermione hadn't had all those doubts herself, but…

"But what about the glowing, and the egg disappearing without my touch?"

Her own voice sounded desperate to Hermione's ears, and she winced.

"I don't know how to explain that. But I still think you shouldn't get your hopes up too high. And," Lisa looked around their room, where all the other trainees had already turned off their lights and snuggled into their beds, "I think we should get some rest now. You may not have had such a taxing day as we have, but Balder was brutal today, and I'm all tuckered out."

With that, they said goodnight, and within five minutes Hermione could hear the slow, heavy breathing that signalled that Lisa had fallen asleep.

Hermione wasn't so lucky.

She tossed and turned, examining the problem from all angles in her head until she felt as if she could scream with frustration. She wanted to be excited about the possibility of taming a dragon, but the truth was that they didn't have enough information to predict what would come out of that egg. She needed more information, but she didn't know where to get it. If only Charlie could remember what book he had read that description in…..

Finally, in the still, dark hours of the night, Hermione fell asleep, her mind blissfully silent.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

The next morning, after the frenzy of getting dressed and eating breakfast, they faced Balder, who seemed to be, at least to Hermione's eyes, in a better mood than the day before.

She was so convinced that he was in a good mood and wouldn't do anything to torture them that day, that she was absolutely gobsmacked when Balder told them that they would be working in twos again, and then promptly placed her with Gordon.

She was beginning to think that Balder really didn't like her.

When she neared Gordon, she saw him cower away from her, and Hermione felt her admittedly small heart, (though she was reluctant to show it to anyone), shrivel up in shame at what she had said to the poor guy, and she vowed that she would have unlimited patience that day.

She didn't think it would be too hard, as they were only taking notes on the technique of real dragon tamers that morning. There were four elements on which they had to deliver extensive notes, and it was divided up so that they would each take two topics and take notes on those two. The idea was that they would each be paying attention to only those two topics, since Balder thought it a bit too much for them to handle to have to pay attention to all four elements. She had made sure, of course, that she took the hardest of the four elements to spot and take correct notes on, at least, the hardest as she saw them, which were Flexibility and Intuition. She had given Gordon the task of writing down the notes he found on Technique and Control. She had even apologised to him about her behaviour the last time they worked together, explaining that she was just in a bad mood.

He had smiled, and Hermione had thought that everything was forgiven and that they would get on just fine, until he said, "no worries. I have four sisters. I know that sometimes women are just unreasonable."

Now, Hermione knew that she actually had been on her time of the month then, (she still was, of course, but the beginning was always the worst for her), but that did not excuse her actions. She didn't want Gordon to think that it excused her actions, and she didn't want him to think that it was okay to blame a woman's mood on her period every time she didn't act like you wanted her to act, because that was the seed of what was keeping women down throughout the world.

When she told him this, Gordon quickly redeemed himself by saying, "oh, no, you've got it all wrong. I didn't mean that women were less than men in any way because of what they go through once a month. All my sisters, and my mother, are staunch feminists, and I've been lectured thoroughly on precisely this. So, don't worry, I won't forgive you too easily for it. Also, I was being extraordinarily dumb that evening." Here, he paused and looked down, a slight blush staining his pale cheeks. "I just, I had a crush on you when we first came here, and that was the first time I had anything to do directly with you. It was just, it was just a bit overwhelming, to be faced with someone who you used to have this giant crush on. So, I wasn't exactly myself."

He still hadn't looked up, and Hermione had a suspicion that his crush was still present. She had had a lot of practise in dealing with puppy love, however, given that she had had Neville to deal with in school who, before he had met Hannah Abbott, had a big crush on her. She didn't comment on it however.

"That's good, as someone who writes something down wrong that is said to them isn't really someone who I want on my team."

Gordon looked a little surprised by that (as if he didn't expect Hermione to say anything about that night again), but Hermione didn't feel too guilty about saying that, as she had always been the direct and honest type. Before she could say anything else that might just have worsened the situation, they were called away to work.

The morning passed quickly, with Hermione losing herself in sussing out the Flexibility and Intuition of the dragon tamers. She enjoyed herself immensely, and when people began to pack up around her, Lisa was required to lightly shove her to get her attention.

Startled, Hermione looked up, surprised to see that she and Lisa were the last people on the stands. She hadn't even thought to look at Gordon's notes once, and from a quick glance around her, she could see that he hadn't thought to leave his notes so that she could look it over. She would just have to hope that they were better than his notes on dragons.

"Come on, Hermione, I need to eat," Lisa said, packing up Hermione's bag and handing it to the girl, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow. Seeing the expression on her friends' face, Lisa shrugged and started walking. "What do you want me to do, Hermione? I'm a growing girl, and I need sustenance. I'm not a walking, talking book like you, who can survive on a piece of toast and a cup of coffee every now and then, mostly because you forget to eat. Which, may I remind you, isn't healthy or conducive to your learning ability at all."

Hermione simply laughed at her.

After lunch, (Hermione had fresh fruit and vegetables, and Lisa had hamburger and chips, which left Lisa grumbling about feeling guilty for eating perfectly good food), they returned to Balder, who told them they would spend the next five days practising the elements that they had taken notes on. They would be practising on the old, very tame dragons, who were already used to the commands and the techniques, and would spot when a dragon tamer was trying to tell them something much easier than a younger, less tame dragon.

Because they had taken notes together, Hermione and Gordon were paired up together with a dragon.

Gordon's notes, apart from a few spelling mistakes that Hermione quickly fixed, were surprisingly thorough and comprehensive, though using decidedly simpler words than her own notes.

"What does, 'extrapolate,' mean?" Gordon asked, squinting at her notes as she, um, embellished his notes. She was just helping him along a little. That was all, really.

Their dragon, an old, wizened Bulgarian Fireball, was laying on its leg and watching its young dragon tamers with lazy, but very intelligent, eyes. If Hermione hadn't already felt out of her depth by being told to tell a dragon what to do with her tiny bit of dragon taming, she felt even more inadequate by having a centuries old dragon, who had seen generations of dragon tamers come and go, watch her every move.

Looking up to find the eye of the dragon fixed on her again, (was that a knowing gleam in its eyes?), Hermione huffed and turned her back on the dragon before bending to examine the piece of her notes that Gordon was having trouble with.

As she was explaining what she had meant with her wording, she felt a strange sort of electricity build up at the back of her neck. She swatted at the back of her neck, trying to displace the feeling. Gordon, standing next to her, tensed suddenly and said in a whispery voice, "Hermione….. Hermione I think you should turn around…."

Hermione looked up and frowned at Gordon, about to admonish him for not paying attention to her, when she saw that he was completely white in the face. It wasn't simply the white that he had been when she had scolded him (oh, alright, scolded may be a bit of a mellow term….,) but an honest to God deathly white that made him look like he had just walked out of a graveyard.

Honestly a bit frightened herself now, thinking that perhaps their dragon was about to incinerate them, she turned around to find…. to find that the great, big, ancient dragon, who was probably older than the reservation itself, had lowered its head onto its front paws and was, there's no doubt about it, bowing to her, eyes closed and everything.

Hermione made a choked sound and looked around for Gordon, only to find him already out of the enclosure, running and probably, by the sound of his cries, going to fetch Balder and about half of the reservation.

She turned back to the dragon to see that it had opened one of its eyes, and was looking at her with that exceptionally knowing gleam in its eyes again. And was that, was that respect she saw there?

Hermione swallowed loudly, and then, feeling incredibly stupid, but willing to try anything because a goddamn dragon was bowing to her, she said, "um, mister dragon, I mean, Bulgarian Fireball, or, whatever, um, are you bowing at me? And, um, if you are, what does that mean? I've never, I mean I know dragons are really smart," Hermione hastened to add as the dragon began to straighten up, both its eyes now fixed on her, "but I've just never heard of it, and I would like to know why you did it. Except, if you didn't actually mean it and you were just like, laying in a way that kind of looked like bowing, I mean, that would be okay too…."

Hermione trailed off as the dragon tilted its head, as if studying her. He held that pose for about a minute, and Hermione could distantly hear people running up and calling to her, before he ducked his head again. This time however, he brought his head close enough so that she could touch his snout if she so wanted.

She knew she should've begun moving away the moment that the monstrously big blue head started to descend towards her. Actually, she should've run away the moment she suspected that he was bowing to her.

But, she was cursed with a fatal curiosity, and so, knowing that if she had read the dragon wrong, (which was a very big possibility, as all the books on dragon taming said that you should never assume you know what a dragon wants or what it is thinking, given that they are highly magical creatures with highly intelligent minds, capable to deceive if they should so choose), she was likely to lose limbs if not be killed completely, she reached out a hand.

Behind her, the voices were much closer now. She could hear voices screaming at her to stop, to back away. Above them all she could hear Charlie's shouts, urging her, begging her to move away. With her hand still outstretched, she turned around. The twisting movement jostled her arm just enough to land it on the snout of the dragon, and the last thing she saw before everything faded around her was Charlie's anguished face, tearing toward her.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

**Betaed by the lovely Littleoldmeeeee**

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

It wasn't like she had blacked out. It was more like she had shifted her perspective, and she could no longer see anything she could before, while still being able to see, albeit different, things.

Hermione couldn't really see much as everything was sort of in a whirl through her eyes. What she could see however, oh, it was incredible - colours so bright and powerful that they put a rainbow to shame. In the midst of this kaleidoscope of vivid colours, she received the distinct impression of immeasurable power, and safety. Even though she knew better than most people that great power didn't always bring safety, and that more often than not it brought danger, this power seemed….. protective of her, somehow.

It felt as if time itself had gone away. She honestly couldn't tell if she had been in that place for a day, an hour, or a minute, as if time wasn't powerful enough to hold a candle against that sort of power. Finally, after an eternity of colours and a chorus of soft, indiscernible voices in her ears, she saw something strange. It was very blurry, and Hermione could only see shapes, but what she could see looked remarkably like a large, dragon-like creature standing beside a humanoid shape on the crest of the hill. It was too indistinct to tell, but she thought that human shape had its hands on the side of the large creature's neck.

She woke up with a shock, a cold wetness soaking her.

Coughing and blinking, sitting up with the help of hands gripping her elbows, her eyes cleared enough for her to see Lisa and Gordon standing in front of her, with what looked like the rest of the reservation behind them. Lisa held a bottle in her hand, from which Hermione deduced the water had come.

Before either Lisa, Gordon, or Hermione could say anything, a harried voice at her ear said, "Hermione! Thank God you're awake. Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?"

Hermione twisted herself around in order to see Charlie's face, and she was surprised at the stark naked worry apparent in his eyes and on his face. Without thinking, she lifted her hand and laid it against his cheek, caressing his face, soothing him.

"It's okay, I'm alright. I'm alright."

Some sort of tension seemed to flow out of Charlie at her words, and he gripped her elbows tighter, some of the worry lines leaving his face. His hand came up to cover hers just as a commotion became apparent at the back of the crowd. Hermione could hear McDougal shouting for people to get out of her way, and she gestured to Charlie to help her up.

Lisa came to stand next to her as she got to her feet, a show of silent support. Or not so silent, as Hermione saw the suspicious glance she shot at Charlie's hand at her elbows, and her eyes widened in question. Hermione elected to ignore her for the moment.

McDougal's short figure soon made her determined way to the front of the crowd. Her gaze swept across Hermione, taking in her no doubt dishevelled state, lingering on Charlie behind her, whose hands were still on her elbows. Hermione felt Charlie tense, and expected him to step away. To her surprise, however, he simply shifted his hold so that he was now cradling her arms, his arms half encircling her body, protecting her.

McDougal's eyes widened before she gave an imperceptible nod and moved her focus to Hermione.

Hermione herself had no idea what had just transpired between aunt and nephew, but she wasn't going to ask now. For one, however much it caused her to feel strange things that made her want to bury her head in the sand, it also made her feel good. For the other, there was much more important stuff to worry about right at that moment than what McDougal thought about Charlie holding her. Or what she herself thought about it. Or why he was even doing it.

"What happened here? Where's the dragon I've been hearing about from about a mile back?"

Hermione hadn't thought to look, but sure enough, the old Brazilian dragon was nowhere to be seen. Lisa answered for her.

"He flew away as soon as people begin approaching. I think I saw him heading over to the mountains." She waved toward the tall mountains situated to the east of the reservation. The mountains were still technically part of the reservation, but dragon tamers didn't like it when dragons went there, mostly because it made it hard to find the dragons again, given that natural structures such as mountain had their own magical signature that tended to mess up the signal that the dragons put out.

McDougal sighed and gestured to two dragon tamers standing off to the side.

"Go and see if you can track the dragon down. If you can, try and bring him back. If you can't, try harder."

The dragon tamers seemed reluctant to leave, but they nevertheless nodded and scurried off. Looking at the crowd gathered around them, McDougal seemed to come to some kind of decision, and nodded before pointing her wand at her throat and whispering, 'Sonerus.'

"All dragon tamers back to their posts. All dragon trainees back to whatever you were doing before. This will all be taken care off. Now scoot."

Nobody had any trouble hearing her magically amplified voice over the chatter of all the people gathered there, but they needed a few more shouts, and when they still seemed reluctant to move, Balder began threatening them with runs.

Hermione could understand that the trainees were frightened of Balder, but she was shocked when the actual dragon tamers paled and hurried away. That was, she was shocked until she remembered that they had to have been trainees before they were dragon tamers, and they probably trained under Balder as well. Then it was just funny.

When everyone had dispersed, apart from Lisa, (who had looked so fierce when McDougal tried to order her away, that even Balder hadn't said anything further), Gordon, (who claimed that he was working on the dragon with Hermione and could offer some helpful information), and Charlie, whom McDougal didn't even try to order away, she told them to follow her and remain silent.

Hermione still felt woozy after her little, um, whatever it was, and she was grateful for the arm that Charlie kept around her waist, supporting her. What she was not so grateful about was how her body was reacting to his warmth right behind her. She had just woken up from some sort of dragon vision thing, and here she was, wondering what it would feel like if Charlie simply slid his hand a bit lower. It didn't help that her treacherous mind helpfully supplied the amount of muscles he would have to use to shift his hand to rest on her gluteus maximus. She thought she had left all those hormones behind in her teenage years.

With Hermione carefully keeping her mind off other routes a certain appendage might take, McDougal led them to her office. Upon arrival, she promptly shooed out Martin, who left with a scowl in Hermione's direction and a simpering gaze in Charlie's direction, who didn't even seem to see him, much to Martin's disappointment.

McDougal herded them into her office, and closed the door firmly behind her, before turning around.

"Now, will someone please explain to me what happened?"

Everyone began talking at once, trying to give their version of the events, until McDougal lifted her hands and said, "quiet! I can't hear a thing. One at a time. You," she pointed at Gordon, who swallowed, "go first."

"Well," Gordon began, wringing his hands in front of him, "we," he pointed at himself and Hermione, "were going through the notes we had taken earlier in the day, and she was explaining what she meant in one of sentences to me, when suddenly the dragon stood up and bowed to her. I took off running at once, looking for Balder and really just anyone more experienced than me. When I got back, Hermione's hand was on the dragon's nose-" ("Snout," Hermione corrected automatically. Everyone ignored her.), "and her eyes were closed and she was floating in the air. It looked quite scary, really."

"I was floating?" Hermione asked, disbelief colouring her tone.

"Yes," Charlie answered, having let go of her waist and elbows, but still hovering at her back. "It was quite a sight really. Of course, when you came crashing down, I wasn't near enough to catch you, and you might have a little bump on your head."

Hermione probed the back of her head, and sure enough, she found a bump the size of her fist forming. It was incredibly tender to the touch, and she hissed when her fingers made contact with it.

"Little bump, huh?"

"Whilst it's unfortunate that you received any injuries, Miss Granger, what I'm most interested in is not what happened to the back of your head, but what happened inside your head when you touched the dragon."

Suddenly, all eyes were on her.

"Well," Hermione began, twisting her hands, "when I touched the snout of the dragon, it was like, it was like I was suddenly seeing the world differently. Like... like I could actually see the world in the way that the dragon saw it."

She stopped there, not sure how to go on. She didn't really want to tell them about the protective feelings, or the vision of someone with a dragon that she was fairly certain she saw.

McDougal didn't plan on accepting her silence, though.

"And? That can't possibly be all? Did you see any visions? Hear any voices? There aren't many people who can say they've touched a dragon without it wanting to kill them, and all of them had some sort of fantastical tale to tell, even if it was just that the dragon showed them what they were going to eat for breakfast the next morning. So, come on, out with it."

Lisa bristled next to Hermione, and said, "listen, Ms McDougal-"

Hermione stopped her with a hand to her arm. Lisa looked back questioningly, and Hermione smiled.

"Whilst I appreciate the sentiment, Lisa, I can take care of myself. And, well, I did see something else, so I suppose it's not all idle curiosity."

Hermione didn't want to tell them, but with Gordon looking at all of them with huge eyes, eyes that screamed 'trust', and Charlie - well Charlie looking at her whichever way he was looking at her – Lisa watching her with a worried gaze and McDougal with shrewd eyes, she didn't see how she could hide it. No matter how almost sacrilegious she felt, sharing it with them.

"Most of it was just colours and an immense sense of power, so there's nothing new there. The rest of it was, well, throughout the whole thing, there was this overwhelming feeling of protection. Like the dragon, or whatever, would never let anything or anybody hurt me. There were voices, but I couldn't really hear what they were saying. It sounded like it was in another language or something. Also at the, at the end, I saw some sort of vision."

McDougal smiled. Hermione tried not to see the smugness in it, but it was hard. She knew that McDougal was not a bad woman, but she was very, focused, to say the least, on what she wanted, and on what was important to her. Hermione would bet all her savings that McDougal was a Slytherin, even if she had never been to Hogwarts. (Romania did have its own school after all.)

"Go on," Charlie urged, his eyes bright.

Hermione smiled. It was hard not to when Charlie was so excited.

"Well, I saw some person standing next to some sort of large creature. It could be a dragon, it could not, the image was too vague to really see. The person put his or her hand," she lifted her hand, "on its shoulder, and it, it seemed to like it."

Gordon gave an excited little squeak and said, "What does that mean? Is this about the egg that everyone's talking about? Is it real? Is it really a sea-serpent? Is he really going to ride it?" He pointed at Charlie, who scowled fiercely at his finger.

"Hm," McDougal said, frowning. "Miss Heathrow, would you be so kind as to take Mister, um…"

"Gordon, though I don't actually know his last name," Hermione offered.

"It's Tate. Gordon Tate," Gordon supplied, having lowered his finger in fear for its life, as Charlie was still glowering at his hand.

"Miss Heathrow, would you escort Mister Tate outside and inform him of what is going on. Only what is necessary, of course."

Lisa looked rebellious, but she could hardly refuse an order from the reservation head, especially one who she had almost yelled at earlier.

"Of course," Lisa murmured, taking Gordon by the arm and towing him out of the office after her, suffering his excited questions with a stony face.

Hermione would have been tempted to laugh, if she hadn't just woken up from some sort of vision, trance thing, and if she weren't facing such serious individuals. Granted, one of them seemed to be giving her a lot of, um, support lately, given that Charlie was still hovering at her elbow, but McDougal was watching them with her arms crossed and lips pursed.

"Sit down, will you," McDougal said, gesturing to the two chairs in front of her desk, taking the seat behind her desk herself. Hermione gingerly took her seat, while Charlie, who seemed to have no scruples, flung himself on to the chair and slumped down, as soon as he saw McDougal take her seat.

McDougal took of her glasses and pinched her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Hermione was just wondering if her little stunt had upset her so much that she had a headache, when Charlie tsked sympathetically.

"Still not over that migraine, huh Maureen? I told you, you should use the spell book Mum gave you for Christmas. It works wonders, really."

McDougal smiled slightly, but shook her head.

"No thank you, I'll stick to my own remedies. You English wizards already think you're so much better than us, I can't let that be true, can I?"

Charlie grinned, and the tense atmosphere that had been reigning in the office ever since they came in, dissipated.

"Aw, come now Auntie, don't be sour just because we win the games every year. And those spells, I'll remind you, come from Africa, so there's no competition in this. Although, we did find the spells first."

McDougal smiled slightly, before focusing her attention back on Hermione.

"Sorry for being a bit harsh back there, dear. I just needed to have all the information, and I couldn't wait for you to be ready to share it. I wanted to tell you today after you finished your training, as these things usually take a while, but the egg has begun to hatch."

Hermione gasped, but McDougal ignored her.

"Hatching, really?" Charlie asked, awe and fear tingeing his voice.

"Yes," McDougal nodded. "It has been glowing brighter ever since Hermione left yesterday, and this morning there was a tiny crack. I had hoped that we could delay it for a while, at least until we knew a bit more about what was in the egg, but it looks like we're going in blind now."

Hermione was excited, she couldn't deny it. With the hatching of the dragon, it meant that she would have a chance to raise and tame a real cub. On the one hand, she wanted to jump up and shout, grasp Charlie's hands and twirl around in a circle. On the other hand, she could understand McDougal's reticence, given that they knew next to nothing about what was going to come out of that egg, and what she knew about McDougal's protective instincts.

She compromised by simply smiling very wide, forgoing the jumping and twirling in circles.

McDougal didn't seem too displeased by her however, merely shaking her head in a matronly fashion and saying, "Whatever that vision of yours was, let's hope it had something to do with the hatching egg we have on our hands, otherwise that grin on your face will be severely misplaced. And you should hope that the dragon you touched won't be too hard to find. He's one of the oldest dragons we have, if not the oldest, and I will be very displeased if he is lost."

Hermione wilted a bit under that scolding tone, but even McDougal's words could not entirely erase the grin on her face.

"When are we going?" Hermione asked.

"As soon as I find Martin and tell him that I'll be out for the rest of the day. That boy really should learn to stay in one place," she murmured as she opened the doors and found no sign of Martin.

Lisa and Gordon were sitting on chairs outside the door, and when it opened they jumped up, gazes jumping from Hermione, to McDougal to Charlie, and back to Hermione. McDougal looked at Charlie, and Hermione saw him nod before McDougal walked off and left them alone.

Charlie approached Gordon and Lisa and said, in a very careful voice, probably remembering, Hermione thought, that Lisa was not someone to be trifled with, "Hermione and I are going with McDougal to go and, um, study something. We appreciate your help in this matter and your absolute discretion."

Hermione fully expected Lisa to demand to be taken with her, but she merely shrugged and nodded, before giving Hermione a fierce hug, whispering a threat in her ear about what would happen if she didn't tell Lisa everything afterwards, and grabbing Gordon's arm, marched off with him.

Gordon looked like he wanted to stay, if the tugging was any indication, but when Lisa levelled a glare at him, he deflated and merely offered a weak, "goodbye, Hermione," in farewell.

Hermione shook her head in amusement at the two of them, and turned around to look at Charlie, whose expression seemed to be caught somewhere between a smile and frown.

"Did McDougal ask you to do that?"

Charlie's expression cleared and he answered, "yeah. Well, I think so. If that look meant that I had a piece of dragon dung stuck to my shoes and I should scrape it off, then I'm in trouble. Otherwise, I think I'm fine." He paused, indecision flickering across his face before he spoke again. "Are, are you really alright Hermione? I mean, you didn't see yourself, but you were literally floating in the air and glowing so bright that I had to shade my eyes. And that landing wasn't gentle. And, well, your head does feel like your own, doesn't it?"

Hermione felt a warm glow spread through her at his concern, and she smiled at him as she answered, "yes. I'm fine, really. Or, at least, I'm not concussed or anything. My head does feel a little tender," she poked the spot on her head where the knot resided, "but other than that I'm really fine."

Charlie looked like he wanted to say something else, but he was prevented from doing so, by the arrival of McDougal, who waved them over from the stairs as Martin swept by her, nose up in the air.

Hermione suppressed a giggle brought on partly because of Martin and partly because of the giddiness flowing through her, and followed McDougal.

It was time to hatch a dragon.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Next update! I'm just going to stop making promises, as I'm obviously rubbish at sticking to schedules, but I will try my very best to update as soon as I can after this. And every time after that, promise. Enjoy!**

**Thanks to Littleoldmeeeee for betaing this!**

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Hermione apparated with Charlie, the general consensus being that she had just been hit on the head, and as such was not fit to do any kind of magic. Hermione refrained from pointing out that they were going to a place where she might be required to do magic, if the dragon hatching proved to be as dangerous as they all secretly feared.

They arrived moments after McDougal, just in time to see the woman set off towards the house which, if Hermione squinted, she thought seemed to be glowing faintly. Of course, it might just have been Hermione's imagination - she was excited after all, and she could just as easily have been imagining things.

Charlie and Hermione followed McDougal as soon as they got their bearings, (Hermione discreetly shaking Charlie's hand off her elbow as they neared the front door; it wouldn't do to have distractions at such a critical moment).

McDougal had paused in front of the door, waiting for them to catch up. When Hermione got closer, she could see McDougal's hands shaking slightly, and she realised that the woman was just as excited and scared as she herself was. When Charlie and Hermione were standing on either side of her, McDougal opened the door, revealing the source of the slight glowing that Hermione had seen from outside.

McDougal's boy, Eric, Hermione thought his name was, had matches in his hands and was amusing himself by striking the matches and lighting them, watching them burn for a while, before blowing them out again. At least, he had been amusing himself with them until he saw his mother standing at the door, upon which he promptly dropped the matches, (which were thankfully all out), and ran upstairs. Hermione was sure that, on a normal day, McDougal would have been livid with the boy. She probably would have stormed up those steps behind him, and they would have heard him howl all the way from the reservation.

However, upon finding that it wasn't the egg that had been glowing, they promptly realised that it wasn't on the table, in the little nest Hermione where had seen it last.

"Where is it?" McDougal muttered, lifting cushions haphazardly and plopping them down with no regard to the usual order of things, and completely disregarding the fact that the egg couldn't possibly be under a flat cushion. But, Hermione supposed they all reacted differently when they panicked. "It was right here this morning, just glowing."

Hermione and Charlie helped her look, though they did it with a hopeless air, as if aware of the fact that they were most likely wasting their time.

Finally, after ten minutes of fruitless searching, Hermione suggested cautiously, "Perhaps you could go and ask Eric what happened? I mean, he was home the whole day, wasn't he?"

McDougal looked at her almost unseeingly for a moment before comprehension lit up her eyes and she hurried upstairs. It was silent for a few moments, before Hermione and Charlie heard her voice ring out.

"What did you think you were doing with those matches? You could have burnt down the house, you little fool! Hiding under the bed won't help you, I'll just drag you out."

They heard a faint scuffling noise.

Charlie leaned closer to Hermione and whispered confidentially, "This reminds me so much of my mother. She was always dragging the twins out of their various hiding places."

Hermione looked up at him just in time to see his sunny smile fade away, replaced by a look of blank sadness. Hermione didn't say anything, thinking it the wisest course, but she did reach back, hesitantly, as she was still unsure whether their relationship was close enough to warrant her touching him, and squeezed his hand.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to find it too strange, as he squeezed her hand back before withdrawing his, as McDougal re-entered the room, dragging Eric by his ear.

Hermione would have expected the boy to be wailing and crying, or at least making up excuses like he was the last time she had seen him, but he was merely white-facedly clutching at his mother's hand (the one that was holding the ear), and following her.

She released him and pointed to a chair.

Hermione felt a wild urge to laugh at the situation, even though the situation they were in was decidedly not funny. The egg was gone, after all, and they had no idea where it was, who had taken it, or if it had simply disappeared. (Hermione was secretly fearing that possibility more than anything else. She so wanted a chance to tame an actual dragon cub, though she was finding it hard to even concentrate on her worry, as a headache seemed to be tearing her skull apart).

Eric was sitting dejectedly on a chair, holding his ear and looking at his fuming mother like he was the runt of the litter, and nobody loved him. Hermione recognised that look instantly, as Ron had often used it on her, enough times that she had developed an immunity against it.

Charlie, however, didn't seem to have that same immunity, and he stepped forward instinctively beside her. The only thing that stopped him from moving further was the glare that McDougal threw his way.

"So, I know that you know that playing with matches is a very dangerous, not to mention stupid, thing to do." The boy winced, Hermione with him. "You could have burned down the house, perhaps even killing yourself in the process!"

Eric was looking properly ashamed now, and he looked down, seemingly seriously contemplating the tiles beneath his feet. Hermione saw a slight smile flickering on McDougal's face, before she fixed it into a stern mask again.

"Now, I'm going to ask you again, before you so rudely interrupted me by asking what I was going to do about the matches," (Charlie winced beside Hermione and whispered, "rookie mistake. Never mention your crime before they do"), "what happened to the egg?"

The boy shrugged.

McDougal's migraine seemed to have worsened, as her face contorted, before she asked, in a tightly controlled voice, "would you like to elaborate on that?"

Still looking at the floor, apparently determined to count every tile, he answered, "Men came into the house and took the egg. They said you'd sent them. I thought they worked at the reservation."

The boy was hunched in on himself, and it was clear, to Hermione at least, that he expected to get a tongue lashing now, not only because he was playing with matches, but also because he had let the egg get stolen from under his very nose.

Looking at McDougal's face, Hermione came to the same conclusion.

She was surprised therefore to hear McDougal say, in a strangely gentle tone, betraying the stern expression on her face, "alright, boy. That's all. I won't blame you for the egg getting stolen, because I have sent people to the house before for various reasons, and how were you to know that they weren't here on my orders." Her voice turned hard again, just as the boy started to lift his head with a tremulous, disbelieving smile on his face. "That, however, does not mean that you will not be punished for playing with matches. That was beyond imbecilic."

McDougal took a few deep breaths, and Hermione stared in admiration. Usually, when Mrs Weasley got started, she didn't stop until she had rehashed everything she had to say ten times over in increasingly horrible ways. McDougal seemed to be able to stop herself mid-rant and focus on something else. For some reason, that was immensely impressive to Hermione at that moment, though that might have been because of the bump on her head.

Charlie seemed to think she was acting strangely too, as he gave Hermione a side-long glance as McDougal continued.

"Now, do you remember what the men looked like?"

The boy tilted his head, seeming to think for a while, before he shrugged and said, "All I remember was that they were big, had dark hair and wore dragon tamer clothing."

"Which describes about seventy percent of the people at the reservation, not to mention Romania. Though I suppose the dragon tamer clothing does narrow it down a bit," Charlie said, head tilted.

"Hmm," McDougal agreed. "Though how anyone at the reservation even knew that the egg was here is beyond me. I mean, I know my secretary has a big mouth, but I'm fairly certain that he didn't know where the egg was being held."

Hermione tried to think as hard as they seemed to be thinking, but that just made her head hurt. She may have hit it harder than she had thought, because the pain was getting worse by the second. It was almost as if it was pulsing, pushing the pain over her in waves. In fact, now that she thought about it, there was some sort of light throbbing on the edges of her eyes. The more the pain intensified, the brighter the light became.

She tried to indicate to the others that something was wrong, but they were so deep in thought that they didn't notice her failed attempts at speaking. (Her voice seemed to have abandoned her.) The only one who seemed to notice was Eric, who watched her strangely for a while as she flailed about. When she doubled over and clutched her head, feeling like it was going to burst, Eric finally seemed to get the message that something was wrong, and he jumped up and shouted, "Mum, something's wrong with that lady."

Hermione was vaguely conscious of concerned voices surrounding her and strong arms leading her to something soft, upon which she thankfully laid down her head. While it failed to make the pain any better, it did help that she was no longer in any danger of falling and she could concentrate fully on managing the aching in her head.

Something cool and wet was pressed to her forehead but Hermione was barely aware of that fact when a mighty wave of pain burst out from behind her eyes and shattered the light still lurking at the edges of her eyes until it completely filled her vision.

For a long time, there seemed to be only the unbearable brightness. Hermione wanted to close her eyes against it, but she didn't know where her eyes were. Gradually, the light faded to a muted, very dark pinkish colour, and she seemed to be surrounded by warmth.

She was reassured to hear voices, but then puzzled as she didn't recognise either of them.

"What did you take the egg for, Gary? We were only supposed to break in, take some money and valuable shit, and be off. That's the whole reason we got into these monkey suits. Everyone knows the McDougals are the richest bitches this side of Romania. Now we have a bloody egg and it's fucking glowing and shit. And we didn't even get all the other stuff because the bloody kid was there. What are we supposed to do with it?" a gruff voice asked, reminding Hermione of the stereotypical voices that video game use for their thugs. She had no idea those sort of voices actually existed in real life.

"Oh, shut up Winston. It's not that bad. We can sell the egg for money. Dragon eggs go for loads these days," another voice answered him, this one sounding much more normal and putting Hermione in mind of a typical boy-next-door kind of guy.

Hermione could hear the voices talking again, but she seemed to be drifting away and with a jolt, she opened her eyes, and saw McDougal's worried face leaning over her, shaking her shoulder.

Seeing her eyes open, McDougal backed away, revealing Charlie and Eric standing behind her, both clutching what looked like armfuls of McDougal's entire medical supplies. McDougal seemed to notice them too, and with an irritated wave she shooed them away, directing them to put back the various supplies where they had found them.

"We won't be needing that anymore, so go put it away. And, Eric, show Charlie where to put everything. We wouldn't want the cabinet to be untidy now, would we?"

Charlie grinned shakily at Hermione and followed Eric who was tugging his sleeve rather insistently.

When they were gone, McDougal turned back to Hermione.

"Seems you took a harder knock to the head than you thought, hmm?"

She sat down and took a washcloth out of a basin on the floor, mopping Hermione's forehead.

Hermione started to nod, but then shook her head resolutely.

"No. I don't think it was the fall. Well, not just the fall," she amended, seeing McDougal's raised eyebrow. "I saw, no, heard something. I think, I think I was in the mind of the dragon in the egg." McDougal had stopped mopping her forehead, and was now looking at Hermione intently. "I heard two names, Gary and Winston, and how they said they only wanted to steal money, and that the egg was a mistake. They were saying they were going to sell the egg."

Strangely, at least as far as Hermione was concerned, McDougal didn't even question her 'vision', and instead stood up, shaking her head.

"If that's true, and I'm beginning to believe that you have a far deeper connection to the dragon then anyone of us expected, that egg will hatch in a potentially harmful environment. Since it's already begun to hatch, it will finish hatching in the next 24 hours, even with the heat taken away."

Hermione felt too shaky to try and stand up, so she merely watched McDougal pace, before seeming to come to a conclusion.

"You stay here. I will come back in an hour or so and then me, you and Charlie are going somewhere, if I can get the location."

At that moment Charlie came into the room, and McDougal gave him the compacted version of what had just occurred, and though he reared to go with her, to wherever she was going, she refused.

"The woman I'm going to see is paranoid enough as it is. I don't need a big strong dragon tamer there to scare her. No, you stay with Hermione, and I'll be back as soon as I can."

With that, she left, leaving Charlie and Hermione alone with Eric, who offered to make them some hot cocoa. Charlie immediately agreed, and although Hermione had her reservations as to whether or not Eric was actually allowed in the kitchen, she agreed.

All Hermione and Charlie had to do now was not go crazy while waiting for McDougal to get back.

Piece of cake.


End file.

Harry Potter, Adventure, Drama