Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter or any of the lovely characters that J.K. Rowling has created in the wonderful wizarding world. I only own the plot and any new characters.

January 1, 1999

Hermione Granger rounded the corner, her pace quickening as she neared the bookstore.

She was more than ready to get indoors and out of the rain.

She only had herself to thank for being up this early, braving the morning's dreary weather since she'd been the one who offered to open the store in the first place. She had made no plans for celebrating New Year's Eve the night before—opting to stay at home with a good book and a glass of wine instead—so she volunteered.

Hermione figured letting her boss—a Muggle woman named Melinda—spend the first day of the new year with her family was the least she could do.

After all, the life she currently had was all because of the kindness Melinda had shown that fateful day three months prior when she had stumbled into the Welsh bookstore lost and with nowhere to go. Choosing to leave the wizarding world behind—at least temporarily—was one of the hardest decisions Hermione had ever made, but she knew that she had done the right thing.

It had all simply become too much.

At first Hermione had felt numb. It was all she could do to keep herself somewhat together after what had happened during the Battle of Hogwarts. As the days stretched into weeks, the full weight of all that she had experienced during the battle and the months leading up to it came crashing down upon her. She had been asked to give hours' worth of statements to Ministry officials and the Wizengamot, detailing the events of the previous year. With each retelling, Hermione found that she relived the trauma all over again.

By the end of June, she felt as though she had been fractured beyond repair.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had taken up residence at the Burrow which provided the Golden Trio protection from the prying eyes of the press and general public. It did not, however, provide them refuge from the magnitude of all that they had lost, despite their victory.

Cedric, Sirius, Moody, Dobby, Remus, Tonks, Fred…

Hermione had come to quickly realize that there were no true winners in war. Only survivors.

Between her trips to Ministry Headquarters, she had thrown herself into disaster recovery efforts at Hogwarts. She helped rebuild parts of the castle, assisted with the repair and re-cataloging of the books and ancient tomes in the school's library, finding anything to stay busy enough to keep her mind from thinking about the horrors of it all. Rationally, she knew it wasn't a sustainable coping mechanism, but for a time it worked.

Eventually, the castle and its grounds were fixed and ready for the new school year and Hermione had no choice but to finally confront how the events of the last year had affected her. She'd been on autopilot for so long—and before that in a consistent state of fight or flight—she wasn't sure exactly how she was supposed to function anymore.

It also didn't help that things were quickly beginning to unravel with Ron.

Hermione had known the moment Ron chose to leave during the horcrux hunt that things between the two of them would never be the same. She had felt the betrayal tear through her all those months ago with every step he took as he walked away, leaving her behind with Harry. While he eventually returned, the damage had been done and unlike the castle walls of Hogwarts, their relationship wasn't as easily repaired.

Of course, Hermione knew Ron felt remorse for his actions during that time. That he wished he could take back the hurtful words and accusations—he told her as much often—but Ron's mixture of guilt and shame often clashed with the hurt and frustration Hermione felt, resulting in frequent arguments over the smallest of offenses.

Throughout all of this, Hermione's sleep had been plagued nearly every night by nightmares. More often than not, she would wake up screaming from reliving her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and with every restless night that passed, she was finding herself increasingly unable to bear the look of guilt Ron would give her when she would find her bearings after waking up so violently.

She'd had a particularly vivid nightmare on that last night at the Burrow. The last night before she left it all behind.

She supposed that particular fight was bound to happen at some point, but the lack of sleep had done her no favors that morning.

It was the tiniest of gestures that had done it.

Hermione had taken to cleaning around the Burrow using Muggle home remedies after she found herself awake and unable to go back to sleep. Ron would usually follow and try to help however he could, which usually meant that he would unintentionally get in her way.

In the early hours of that fateful morning, Hermione had set her sights on renewing the stone floors of the kitchen to their original polished state. Scrub brush in hand, she rolled up the sleeves of her jumper and got to work…

…until she saw Ron flinch when he saw the slur that had been carved into her arm.

Setting down her scrub brush, Hermione sighed almost as if in defeat, "This isn't working, Ron."

The redhead paused mid scrub and looked at her, puzzled.

"I know." he muttered, looking around at the partially scrubbed floor, "I keep telling you that spells would be a lot more effective, not to mention quicker."

"No." She whispered, "I mean that I can't…I'm not going to get better if you keep treating me this way."

Ron looked at her in shock for a moment, "And what way is that, Mione?"

Hermione inwardly cringed at the nickname. He knew she didn't care for it.

"Looking after you when you wake up screaming in terror?" he continued, "Helping you when you come down here to clean using whatever this is?"

He waved the scrub brush around to emphasize his point.

"You're smothering me, Ron!" She blurted out, exasperated.

"Sorry if I care about my girlfriend's well-being." Ron shot back, folding his arms over his chest, his temper clearly on the rise.

"Do you though?" Hermione had whispered, before she could stop herself.

Ron's face was red in an instant, "Of course I do!"

She had looked at him then, a tired expression on her face and tears in her eyes, "Then why doesn't it feel like it?"

Before he could interrupt with another objection, she continued, "You never ask, Ron. You never ask what I want…what I need to feel better. You just assume. You always just assume."

She sat back on her heels, "I don't want you constantly following me as though I am something fragile that's about to break. I don't want you constantly fussing over me as if I cannot manage anything on my own."

She gestured around the kitchen, tears freely falling, "And I certainly don't want you following me down here out of guilt every night when I have nightmares."

"Well then what do you want, Hermione?" Ron asked, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

"I want you to stop treating me like I am your penance for what happened during the war!"

They both sat there in stunned silence at Hermione's outburst, the truth of it settling over them like a dense fog.

"This just…isn't working, Ron." She had sniffed, looking at the ceiling in a vain attempt to stop her tears, "I want us to be okay, but I don't think we can be if we continue…if we keep…"

At that point she had been crying too hard to finish her sentence.

"Right. Yeah. No, I get it." Ron said, trying to gain composure as he stood, "'It's not you it's me,' though clearly, it's me. Sorry for trying to be there for you, 'Mione."

And for the second time within that year, Ron had left her devastated and crying.

Hermione wasn't sure at what point during their fight Harry had come downstairs, but he had heard enough to know what had happened.

He had slowly crouched down next her, gathering her in his arms and letting her cry in silence. After what seemed like hours, when Hermione seemed to have no more tears left, Harry asked the one question Hermione had wanted Ron to ask.

"Tell me what you need?"

Which was how she had found herself later that day in King's Cross station, a ticket for a Muggle train in her hand and enough Muggle money for her to get by until she found a place to settle. Hermione had protested when Harry took her to Gringotts to take out a tidy amount of Galleons and had them converted into Pounds, but he had told her to consider it an early combined birthday and Christmas gift. He only wanted to see her happy and he knew, at least for the moment, she would not find happiness at the Burrow.

With assurances that he would get a PO Box address through the Royal Mail so they could keep in touch through Muggle post, Hermione hopped on the train and left all that she knew—all that had brought her joy over the seven years and more recently, immeasurable pain.

She made her way to Wales, deciding to try to start anew in Cardiff. After an hour of wandering the streets feeling hopelessly lost, she sought out the only thing that made sense to her.

Books.

After getting directions from a helpful stranger, Hermione found Melinda's charming little bookstore. The older woman had taken one look at the state of her when she walked in and within minutes, Hermione had found herself sitting next to the register with a hot cup of tea in her hands, telling the kind shop owner her story.

As much of her story as she could: that Hermione's life had been affected by the strange attacks that had happened throughout the UK in the last year. That she had lost her parents, her friends, and decided to make a clean break, only now that she was here, she was utterly lost on how to go about doing so.

And that was when Melinda worked her magic…so to speak.

She'd had a friend who was looking for a tenant for the small one bedroom flat above their floral shop and as it just so happened, Melinda was needing some extra help around the store. She had found that as she was getting older, owning and operating the bookstore by herself seemed less and less enticing.

So during the past three months, Hermione had nearly cut herself off from the Wizarding World, exchanging correspondence with Harry and Ginny only through the Muggle post. While Hermione still did minor magic when she was alone, she kept the majority of her magical items locked away, only keeping her wand with her at all times in its holster under her clothes.

It wasn't that she had sworn off magic all together—she saw it more as taking a break. Ever since she learned she was a witch, her life had been turned upside down—for both better and worse. All she wanted was time to heal in peace and figure things out away from the public eye. She no longer wanted to be Hermione, one third of the Golden Trio and the weight that title carried.

She just wanted to be Hermione Jean Granger, book worm and insufferable know-it-all again.

And so, Hermione had created a relatively magic free existence for herself as she slowly healed from the war's aftermath, finding solace in the methodical routine of Muggle life.

Which was why when Charlie Weasley walked through the shop's front door as the day's first customer, Hermione nearly fainted from shock.

Waking up that morning, Charlie wasn't sure what the new year would hold for him, but he couldn't help feeling cautiously optimistic.

After all, nothing could be worse than the previous year.

He'd taken leave from his job at the Romanian sanctuary for a few months after the Battle at Hogwarts to be with his family as they mourned the loss of Fred and the countless others who had died in the Second Wizarding War. He'd helped with the rebuilding efforts at Hogwarts, needing something to do after the initial wave of grief subsided. In addition to repairing the structural damage that the castle had sustained, he also was tasked with going into the Forbidden Forest alongside Hagrid to check in on the magical creatures who lived within to ensure that they had made it through the battle, offering assistance if they needed—or more accurately—wanted it.

Some part of Charlie knew that his family would not make it through the war intact. The odds simply weren't on their side and ever since they had that close call with Bill the year prior, not to mention his father the year before that. Charlie was constantly on edge—waiting for the Patronus that would urgently tell him to get to St. Mungo's.

Given the nature of his work and the recruiting he was tasked to do for the Order, Charlie had anticipated that it would most likely be him.

He had never expected it to be Fred.

The loss of his younger brother had hit their family hard and those weeks he had spent back home were some of the most difficult he'd ever experienced—each of them dealing with grief in their own way.

His father busied himself with work after being appointed to the task force that was restructuring the Ministry in the war's aftermath. His mother channeled her grief into tending to the matters of the home—more so than she usually did, which was really saying a lot. Every meal was made from scratch and always served warm, baked goods were always available no matter the hour if anyone needed to drown their sorrows in sugar, and every inch of the Burrow was spot free—though Charlie had suspicions that Molly was getting help from another house guest on that last one.

He'd woken up one night in a fit of restlessness just weeks after the Battle to find Hermione meticulously cleaning between the tiles of the kitchen's backsplash with what he recognized as a Muggle toothbrush. He had thought about approaching her that night to maybe ask if she needed company or maybe wanted help in the cleaning, but it became clear with his youngest brother's sudden arrival that she needed—or wanted—neither. He quickly left his secluded observation point, not wanting to hear another one of their fights.

Of his siblings, Ron was handling everything the worst.

Bill focused his energy on recovering with his wife—spending as much time as he could with Fleur, the two of them trying to rebuild a life in which they could start a family. Percy followed their father's example and buried himself in his work at the Ministry trying to right his wrongs from the past few years he had separated himself from the Weasley clan. George used his grief focus on the joke shop, insisting that Fred of all people would have been the first to say that the world needed joy and laughter more than ever in the weeks and months after the war. Charlie admired his younger brother's will and determination to honor his twin by ensuring that the dream they shared would stay alive.

That Fred's legacy would continue on.

Ginny, always having been up for the twins' escapades throughout childhood, helped George throughout the summer before she went back for her last year of schooling. When she wasn't helping George develop a new charm or potion for the shop, she spent her time with Harry. Whenever Harry was available—which wasn't often—the pair of them would take long walks around the property surrounding the Burrow or hop on their broomsticks for a leisurely fly over the countryside. Throughout the tragedy that had resulted from the war, the two had managed to find their way back to one another. Charlie did not envy the public life Ginny was sure to have as the girlfriend of the Chosen One, but if anyone could put up with (and push back on) public scrutiny, it was Ginny.

Which brought him back to Ron.

He wasn't sure exactly what all his youngest brother had experienced when he had disappeared with Harry and Hermione on what he now knew was the hunt for the Dark Lord's horcruxes, but he knew that it had been pretty bad. He had never asked Ron specifically what all had happened—he saw how relentless Ministry officials had been with the three of them getting their statements after the war was over. He didn't want to add to his brother's stress of reliving all that had happened to him, not when he was constantly having to appear in the numerous Death Eater trials to give testimony.

Charlie had noticed that Hermione had been on the receiving end of the majority of the Wizengamot subpoenas, eventually learning from Bill that when the trio had shown up at Shell Cottage, Hermione had been in quite the state. From what Charlie had been able to piece together, Hermione had been separated from the boys when they had been apprehended by Death Eaters and he shuddered to think what the poor girl had experienced. She had different testimony to give and his heart broke for her every time she trudged back into the Burrow after her court summons, Molly pressing a warm mug of hot chocolate into the girl's hands before she went straight to the room she had been sharing with Ginny, reemerging only for dinner.

It was in those moments that he had first began noticing his youngest brother's actions.

In the times when Hermione truly needed comfort, Ron was nowhere to be found, leaving it to his mother and sister to care for her. In the moments she wanted to be left alone, however, Ron suddenly became her shadow, fussing over her until he would do or say something that caused her to snap at him, resulting in a fight. The pair of them had always been argumentative. Charlie had observed their friendly ribbing in past interactions when he was home for the holidays, but it had never been remotely close in intensity of their current rows.

Ron had always been a little clueless when it came to girls, but Charlie couldn't fathom how his brother couldn't see how his actions were harming Hermione. Which was why it wasn't a shock when he woke up one morning to find that Hermione had left, leaving only a note of thanks to Molly and Arthur for their hospitality and her apologies for the suddenness of her departure, assuring that it was for the best. Charlie took the opportunity of the disruption of the Burrow's routine to make his exit as well.

It was time for him to return to work.

Upon returning back to the dragon sanctuary in Romania, his boss had told him that he thought Charlie should apply for the position of Dragon Control Officer which would allow him to travel and work with dragon sanctuaries around the world in the care and research of the magical creatures. Charlie applied for the position and with his boss's glowing recommendation, received the promotion. He had spent the last few months training in his new role and found himself traveling to work at different sanctuaries every couple of weeks.

He was loving it.

While he missed his coworkers and the specific dragons that had been under his care in Romania, there were a lot of things he loved about new and exciting aspects of his position—travel being one of them.

Which was how he found himself in Cardiff, on the precipice of starting a new assignment.

He had a few days to himself for the holiday before he headed north to the small dragon sanctuary nestled within Brecon Beacons. It was a sanctuary that was home to the smaller dragons of the British Iles as well as one of the sanctuaries that specialized in dragon healing and rehabilitation.

Figuring he needed to stock up on entertainment options before he found himself living out of a tent for the next few weeks, he headed to the Muggle bookstore he had spotted the previous night on his way to check into the Wizarding Hostel. Charlie enjoyed Muggle literature—no doubt because of the influence of his father—and thought that he should get a few new books to read during his downtime at the sanctuary.

Walking into a Muggle bookstore felt like walking into a different kind of sanctuary all together, so he was quite stunned when he walked into that particular shop to find a very familiar face behind the front counter.

When Charlie would think about it later that night, it all made perfect sense.

The reason why Ron wasn't able to find Hermione through magical means was now extremely obvious: she was no longer living a magical life.

Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, was a clerk in a Muggle bookstore.

And Charlie hadn't seen her look as healthy—total shock aside—as she did standing before him since Bill and Fleur's wedding.

Hermione recovered first, calmly reaching down to pick up the book she had been reading before Charlie's arrival, before looking at him with defiance.

"I'm not going back. You cannot make me."

Charlie raised his eyebrows. He wasn't sure what he had expected her greeting to be, but that certainly wasn't it.

"I don't think there is anyone in this world who could make you do anything you're determined not to do, Hermione." He stated matter-of-factly as his shock began to wear away, "It is definitely not my intention to try."

She frowned, clutching the book to her chest, still clearly suspicious, "Then why are you here?"

His instincts kicking in, he subtly gave her a once over, quickly assessing the situation. He didn't have to be a dragon tamer to know an acute stress response when he saw it.

"I'm on my way north to…" he began as he did a quick sweep of the tiny shop, making sure that there was no one else present. He looked back at Hermione who gave him the tiniest of nods.

It was safe to talk.

"I'm heading to the Black Mountains to spend some time at the sanctuary up there." He explained, figuring the best way to defuse the situation was through simple and honest communication, "There's some exciting research being done there and they asked me to oversee it. Thought I would pick up some reading material to keep me out of trouble when I'm not face to face with dragons.

"Mum worries enough as it is with the nature of my job," he continued with what he hoped was a reassuring shrug, "so I figure the least I can do is be a homebody during my down time—especially since the closest pub to this particular sanctuary is quite a ways away. I'm not sure if you've ever tried to apparate several fire whiskeys into an evening before, but it's not pleasant. Much safer to stay home curled up with a good book."

Hermione's lips almost quirked into a smile, but she was still hesitant to trust him, "You're truly not here to…"

"No, Hermione, I'm not." Charlie cut off, taking a cautious step forward, "I wouldn't even if asked."

Hermione sighed in relief and Charlie couldn't help but be taken aback. She had truly thought that he would have tried to forcibly take her back to the Burrow.

"We were concerned when you left so suddenly," he explained, "but we understood that it was what you needed to do. We all could see that you were not happy, Hermione.

"Well," He amended, "Most of us."

He took another step forward, meeting Hermione's gaze squarely, "I will not tell anyone anything you do not want me to."

They stood there for a moment, forming a silent truce, when Charlie suddenly realized that this was the most uninterrupted time he had ever spent with Hermione in the years that they had known one another. Sure they had spent time around each other when they had both taken up residency at the Burrow over the years, but he could count on one hand the conversations that they had ever shared one on one. Really, the only things he knew about her were second hand stories from his family, fellow Order members, and the handful of observations he had made over the years.

For her practically being an honorary Weasley, they were more or less strangers.

"So…" he began as he shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping that Hermione hadn't picked up on his sudden—albeit awkward—realization, "What do you recommend for someone who is a fan of Robert Jordan?"

Hermione's face lit up at the abrupt change of subject, "Follow me."

They spent the next thirty minutes going through the bookstore, Hermione pulling books from the shelves that she thought Charlie would be interested in. They would confer for a few minutes before he would indicate whether to add it to the ever-growing stack in his hands or to put it back on the shelf for another customer to find.

By the time they returned to the counter, Charlie had enough books to keep him busy for quite some time.

"Where do you keep all of these when you're finished with them?" Hermione asked as she rang up his purchases.

"I still have a flat near the sanctuary in Romania." He explained taking out a Muggle wallet to find the proper currency, "It has several bookshelves in it that are getting quite full."

Hermione smiled as she began to grab a bag to put the books in, but Charlie politely waved her off. He placed his rucksack on the table and put the books in one by one, the bag noticeably not growing in bulk or weight.

"Handy bags, those." Hermione commented with what Charlie could have sworn was longing.

"That they are." He agreed, filing that observation with the many others he had made over the years about the girl.

He placed the straps of his bag over his shoulders and hesitated before making his leave.

"It was really good to see you, Hermione." He said, offering her a small smile.

"It was really good to see you too." She replied, walking next to him as they neared the front door.

Charlie wasn't quite sure what prompted him to say it, but he didn't feel as though he could leave the store quite just yet, "I'm staying at a hostel in town through the weekend." He blurted.

Hermione paused mid-step and Charlie immediately began to clarify his intentions, "I don't want to impose any more than I already have, but we both know that my mother would have my head if I didn't offer…that is, if you're available, would you maybe want to…grab dinner?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he sighed, silently cursing himself for sounding like a bumbling idiot. Charlie was no stranger to asking women out, actually priding himself on his prowess with the fairer sex. He'd never in his life been as unsure of whether or not his invitation to getting dinner and drinks would be well received.

But he wasn't asking a girl out—at least, not in the sense of how he was used to. Charlie just wanted to be sure Hermione was truly okay before he left. He wasn't lying when he said that Molly would scold him for his poor manners, already hearing the howler she would surely send him if she caught wind that he had seen Hermione and had elected not to offer they get a meal together before he left town so he could truly gage how she was doing.

He didn't even want to think about Ginny's reaction.

Hermione stood there in silence, looking through the glass door in thought and Charlie began to panic.

He had overstepped.

He was clearly not supposed to find her in her new life and she was thinking of a polite way to say no. He half expected her to already be thinking of a plan to pack up and relocate, despite his promise to keep their meeting a secret.

"Just think about it." He said once the silence stretched past farther than was comfortable, "Good-bye, Hermione."

Adjusting his scarf, he walked out of the store, muttering to himself as he walked down the street.

"Charlie!"

He abruptly stopped at the sound of his name and turned, seeing Hermione standing outside the shop, arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to stay warm standing on the sidewalk without a jacket.

"How does 6 o'clock sound?" she called.

Charlie grinned.

Author's Note: This is my first HP fic, so please let me know what you think!