She'd had a fight with Viktor that morning. Again.

Lately, it was all they did, really. Well, one of two things.

It was getting tiresome, the bad days far outweighing the good days and they both knew it. She had tried to be reasonable, told the Quidditch player that they shouldn't be together if the feelings weren't there anymore. She offered to return the ring. She suspected he had given it to her in hopes of fixing a relationship that had no more room to grow, like a plant that had outgrown its pot and started to wither.

But the Bulgarian would have none of it; he thought himself a failure and their relationship could not pile onto the misfortunes that kept befalling him. He'd gotten injured the autumn of the year before during a game in France. A healer had given him a potion that gave him an allergic reaction and it all somehow concluded in irreparable tissue and nerve damage on his shoulder. He could no longer play Quidditch; his career was over.

It was understandable that he was upset. His whole future had revolved around a Golden Snitch he could no longer pursue. However he was growing bitter with every passing day, going wild with resentment. Winning the lawsuit against the French healing centre had done nothing to appease him. He was rich beyond belief now, even more so than before, but money couldn't give him back what fate had taken away.

"They stole my life and you stole my best years! You vant to leave me now that I'm no Quidditch star anymore?" Viktor's English had improved tenfold, but his accent was still very pronounced. He was half snarling at this point, looking more like a rabid dog than a man.

"Excuse me?" She was not going to take this lying down. "I think you could accuse any woman except me of wanting you just for your Quidditch stardom. I hate Quidditch! I went to your games because it was important to you but I could have very well taken a book for all I care! I was always worried sick something would happen…" She realised her mistake too late, the words were already out.

"And something did happen! I suppose you vere dying to say 'I told you so'! A perfect voman you are, alvays know everything. Except now that I am at my lowest you want to leave me? Is that how you take serious commitments?" He was starting to shout, which only served to fuel her anger.

Even Minerva McGonagall had refrained from ever shouting at Hermione Granger. If her admired professor hadn't indulged with just cause, she wasn't going to allow any man to shout at her.

"Get your shit together, Viktor!" she snapped. "You are alive and well, and while you can't play Quidditch any longer, the world is yours to do with what you will! You have the means to do anything else you feel like doing! You're letting bitterness eat away at you, it's not healthy." By the end of her short tirade her voice had subdued. She was worried about him. She wasn't in love with him anymore but she had loved him once and she still cared for him.

"I don't want to do anything else! I want my life back!" He finally broke down, tears streaming down his face.

"Love…" She went to hold him trying to give him some support, somehow.

"But I'm no longer your love, am I?" His voice was so full of hostility that it almost hit her like a slap, stopping her in her tracks.

"Viktor, what's happened to you?" She couldn't believe how things were unfolding. Watching the love of her life turn into this… acrid human being was appalling.

She'd left the house shortly after that, promising she'd be back after work to pick up her things and move out. The former Seeker had yelled, cursed and broken a vase in his rage, accusing her of leaving because he wasn't famous anymore. She hadn't nor would she ever be in the mood for the spectacle.

She approached Mila's tent, trying to think of an excuse for forgetting her own pain relieving potion and not bringing the spares she'd promised the day before.

"Good morning, Mila! How's it going?" Hermione tried to inquire as cheerfully as she could.

After shooting a single glance her way the healer asked "What's wrong? What happened?"

The Bulgarian woman was the best healer in camp. Ever since Hermione had started working at the reserve, she and Mila had become fast friends. Mila had an innate ability to read her like very few could, and she also had a sharp eye that could see through all rough façades of most Tamers.

Hermione sighed, knowing that there was no escaping the blond woman. Mila's piercing blue eyes may be the color of a frozen lake, high in the mountains, but far from being cold and indifferent, were filled with worry today. Those eyes could see right through her lies.

"I think this is it. I told Viktor I'm moving out when I get back from work. We had a horrible row this morning and while that's not in itself unusual, I'm just exhausted. I think we've fought every day for the past six months for some reason or another. I don't think we can fix this." She looked back at her friend and couldn't help the sad smile that appeared on her face. "Despite everything, I just want to help him. I'm still worried about him."

"It's understandable. You've been with him for three years, even if you don't love him anymore, you still care for him." Mila's voice was soothing, soft, understanding. The woman could go from chastising to empathetic in a millisecond.

"I'm sorry I forgot the potions, but after everything this morning I left them in the kitchen and now I need a potion for my headache or I might finally murder Mitko." Her boss of five years had been the bane of her existence since she'd arrived, despite the fact that she had more than proven capable and a true asset to the Bulgarian reserve.

Dimitar "Mitko" Georgiev seemed to hate her for no good reason other than the fact that she was a woman. According to his archaic views, only true men could become Tamers, and he resented her success in the field and proceeded to harass her every time she accomplished something.

"You might do us all a favour if you do." The blond was looking through her cabinets for the pain relieving potion.

"I've been thinking about moving back to England. I don't feel like I belong here anymore. I originally intended to stay just for my apprenticeship. Then things took off with Viktor, so I stayed." Mila handed her the tiny phial and she drank it in one swig. "Without him, it just makes sense for me to leave. I love my job but I hate the work environment in the reserve. I have nothing left here really."

"Oh, it's lovely to see I mean so much to you," Mila said sarcastically.

"Don't play daft, you know what I mean. I've never felt quite at home here, you being the only saving grace. I think it's time for me to reevaluate my options." The potion was starting to take effect, but her uneasiness remained.

"Yeah, sure try to fix it now," the healer replied playfully. "You know, when word gets out that you're looking to relocate there's going to be a ruckus," she warned.

"Bloody titles." Gryffindor princess, The Golden Girl… They called her by several others but she hated them all equally. She hated being the subject of news and gossip. Her only complaint from helping Harry had been the loss of her anonymity.

She'd be lying if she said it hadn't played a part in her choice of career. While she loved dragons, she never expected to end up in a secluded reserve in the middle of nowhere. However, it gave her ample time for her research in potions and magical creatures. It provided the adrenaline rush she'd come to crave after the war and it was a hands-on job that allowed her to experience the somewhat fast results of her hard work. There was nothing quite like watching the development of a little hatchling into a fully grown dragon or to bring a youngling back to health.

It also made it quite difficult for reporters to find their way into her tent and look around. Even the boldest of them cowered at the thought of sneaking up on a rogue dragon on the way. It allowed her to have a private life while staying true to all her aspirations. Staying out of the public eye was certainly a really big plus and to even further the difficulty of reaching her, she moved to Bulgaria for her apprenticeship. The Scotland reserve was a little too close to home and Hogwarts for her liking, after the war and her involvement in it.

Hermione waited a full year to go collect her parents from Australia, not wanting to risk their safety. There were still a couple of escaped Death Eaters running about and she knew her family was a prime target for revenge. Percy had died pushing Fred out of the way of a falling wall and the loss had made them all particularly cautious when it came to their safety. However, when she finally made it there her parents were less than amused. The faith they had in their daughter was lost, and while they believed she had done what she thought best, they couldn't forgive the alteration of their memories. They couldn't trust their own perception of the world and without it, their notion of reality was forever corrupted. They informed her that they would be staying in Australia and that they would write when they were ready to see her. After three years she was still waiting.

It had been extremely difficult to adapt to her new environment and she realised now that she had relied heavily on Viktor for support. Without her parents and her two best friends she'd focussed on work and while making major breakthroughs in her field , she felt a little too disconnected from her past life. Harry and Ron wrote but not often enough to constitute as regular correspondence. It had always been difficult for them to write back. Molly and Ginny Weasley were her main sources of news from home and she found she missed them terribly.

"So you're thinking Scotland?" Mila asked, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, I miss my family too much." The healer knew by now that she meant her friends and the Weasleys.

"Don't you think reporters will be flocking around in no time, that close to home?" She said while reorganising the potions and bandages for the day.

"Probably. I'm not thrilled about that but I've nowhere else to go. I could apply to several other reserves but… I think I'd be just as lonely." It was a hard thing to say out loud, especially for Hermione, but Mila had a way of making people comfortable enough to tell them their most inner thoughts and feelings.

"Mila! Mila! Did you hear?" A young man came bursting through the opening of the tent, breaking the moment. He was struggling to catch his breath, his brown eyes were lit with excitement, his slick black hair falling over his eyes, which told the two witches that no one was hurt or in danger. "They found him! The Romanians, they've found him!" Grog was flushed and out of breath but his smile was making his face come alive.

"Calm down, take a breath," said the healer appeasingly.

"What are you talking about, Grog?" asked Hermione. The young wizard in question was a new recruit, greener than a stick of celery but full of enthusiasm. He could be a tad overwhelming at times and only Hermione and Mila seemed to be able to tolerate him.

"They've found The Biting Storm. They've found Ancalagon and he's alive!," he finally said after he drank some of the water Mila had handed him.

"You know not what you're saying, boy," said the blond dismissively.

"No, I swear it's true. I've heard all the senior Tamers talking about it all morning, some of them didn't go to bed and are asking for transfers as we speak!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"The legend of Ancalagon is more than two thousand years old." Hermione didn't mean to sound condescending. It was something she'd been working on for years, her usual tone didn't blend particularly well with the temperaments of Dragon Tamers. Grog had obviously taken a blow to the head of some sort.

"I know! But that's what they're saying! Apparently, they're only taking five new tamers to work on the case and the whole place is in uproar! It's on the first page of every newspaper and it's all they talk about on the wireless!" He was almost shouting at this point and the brunette was starting to worry for his sanity. What he was claiming couldn't possibly be true and his delusion seemed to include outside sources… It must have been a particularly nasty fall. Perhaps the young apprentice had taken a tail to the head.

"Sweetheart, a creature the likes of the legend would be beyond old and a size the likes I don't think you understand. Where would a creature that size have been hidden?" she asked slowly. Hermione was trying really hard not to sound like a mother speaking to her three-year-old. The annoyed look on his face told her she was failing miserably.

"I'm not an idiot, I know what I'm talking about," he replied irritably. "Turn on the wireless if you don't believe me!"

Mila gave in and went to her desk to tap the small wooden wireless with her wand. Some Bulgarians were shouting over each other, speaking too fast for Hermione to follow. The healer tapped her wand to it again trying to tune it to an English station, stopping when she heard two British women.

"... Son Doong of all places! Who would have thought? Wizards have searched for centuries for the corpse of the famed dragon and it turned out it was in a hidden muggle cave. But no, that wasn't interesting enough, the dragon in question, Ancalagon, is alive! Alive!"

"To be frank, I'm just as surprised as you, Mel. The wizarding community has had some big news lately but this tops the cake! We were just talking to the mother of the Romanian tamer who happened to find the legendary dragon."

"For those of you tuning in just now, the storied millennial dragon Ancalagon has been found alive in a cave in Vietnam. Found by the mother of a Romanian Dragon tamer who happened to be on vacation and on a tour of the muggle Son Doong caves. Or perhaps I should say former muggle caves, now that the International Body for Magic has seized the area."

"Margaret Lys, recounted earlier that she recognised the scorch marks around the cave from her visit to her son's Reserve in Romania. Given the language barrier, she decided to call her son, instead of the local magical authorities. This has started a major legal discussion in the magical community, for the Romanians caught on incredibly quickly once they realised it was a breakthrough find.

"How they managed to make the transfer or why the local authorities allowed it remains unknown. Once the Vietnamese realised the mistake they'd made, the dragon was already in Romanian custody. They claimed that ancient Romanian secrets of dragonlore were used to relocate the massive beast and are registered as property of the government, and as such are subject to the utmost secrecy and could not be moved back."

"To be frank, there is very little information at the time being, however, it's hard not to speculate with such juicy headlines, Mel!"

"Indeed it is, Kar. We're left to wonder who will take over the case once the legal discussion passes over whose jurisdiction it falls under. I'm thinking the Romanians have an edge now that the dragon is on Romanian soil and they've stated that any country who wishes to challenge their claim has to prove they can relocate the dragon safely to their country without Romanian help. Given the monstrous proportions of the animal, this may prove difficult and, from what it looks like, impossible."

"Which leaves us with the question of who will be transferring to Romania to work on the case? An open search for five dragon tamer transfers from all over the world has been published this morning from the Romanian government. They as good as confirmed that the dragon will be staying there, at least for the time being."

"I think there's very little doubt that the Romanians will be courting famed war heroine, Hermione Granger."

At the mention of her name, Hermione groaned out loud, not caring that Grog was present to witness her moment of misery. She always tried to be professional beyond reproach in front of the new recruit but the circumstances were rather unusual. She couldn't help but curse her fame at that moment. She'd relished in the recognition of her hard work when she was younger and new to the wizarding world, but since the war she preferred to keep a low profile, trying to live her life without making the news.

"... famous Estignis, who's rumoured of having the ability to talk to the beasts themselves, descendant, maybe, of a hybrid race, we'll never know for sure. Another candidate might be the well known greek Tamer, Portokalis, who discovered the breed of non-winged dragons that live near the magical area of Santorini."

"Those dragons are rather small and barely dangerous, though. I'm not sure that it'll help him classify for the top five picks, Mel."

"You may be right, Kar. However, his work on the field is undeniably important even if it isn't very glamorous."

"When we come back, we'll keep discussing potential candidates for transfer to work on the case of the legendary dragon Ancalagon, who's been found alive in a cave in Vietnam. You are listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network News, we'll be right back after some word from our sponsor, Nimbus 2012."

At this, Mila tapped her wand over the wooden radio and it went silent.

Hermione was the first to speak, per usual. "I remain sceptical," she said. "The chances of it being Ancalagon are very slim, more so given the fact that they managed to relocate him to Romania. I don't think it would be possible to move a dragon half that size. It's either a publicity stunt of some sort or they're trying to get the best Tamers to transfer to their reserve. They'd have to stay at least two seasons given transfer regulations."

Hermione had never been particularly shy about her opinions but now she owned them in a completely different way. Her job had helped her in regards to becoming more assertive. A moment of doubt in the field could mean losing a limb.

"Well, I think it is Ancalagon and I'm going to apply right now for a transfer to Romania. I chose this program over theirs and I think I have a chance of getting my place back if I apply sooner rather than later!" With that, Grog skipped towards the entrance of the tent and was gone without waiting for a reply.

It didn't take long for Mila to jump at the unsuspecting witch, excitement gripping her just as it had the young trainee.

"I think this is a sign, Plamŭk. You walked in this morning saying that you don't want to stay in Bulgaria and I think I'm in need of a change of scenery as well. Let's go to Romania together!" The healer's voice was deep, very persuasive and if she was honest with herself, the passion in her voice was even contagious.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind. I miss my family, I need to find solid ground again. And I don't believe for a second that the dragon they found is Ancalagon. It's absurd to even entertain the notion! I can't believe they're making such a fuss about this," said Hermione, her voice dripping with annoyance. It was preposterous to think that there was a two thousand and five-hundred-year-old dragon in the Romanian reserve. Idiots, the lot of them.

"I'm not saying it is. I'm saying there's a dragon big enough and old enough to be thought of as Ancalagon in Romania right now. Wouldn't you want to be part of the team that works on the case? Think about your research. You've already discovered two more uses for dragon's blood and that was before…" She cut her speech short, noticing the frown forming in Hermione's face. This wouldn't be the way to convince her, knowing Hermione didn't like to talk about her accident.

"All I'm saying is there's no Dragon Tamer in the field that can do what you do, and even if they could, I'm sure it would be a botched half arsed version of what you could accomplish," said Mila, almost holding her breath.

It was smart, appealing to her intellect, to her curiosity. The Tamer in her wanted to see this dragon, because she was right, even if it wasn't the real thing it had to be formidable to have caused such a commotion. Dragons were big, it was their nature. How big was this creature that had the international community in uproar? Then there was the researcher in her. The dragon had to be old, very old to have been thought to be the millennial creature. A scale or even a fragment of a claw could be invaluable for her current investigation.

The Tamer silently cursed the healer in her head, knowing that she had started a mental wheel she very rarely managed to stop. The possibilities were endless and Hermione had to see them through.

"Fine, I'll think about it," said Hermione. They both knew she had already made up her mind, but what else could she say? She wasn't going to roll over and expose her soft scaled underbelly.

"Good. I'll get my paperwork sorted and started. If you're leaving, be it for Romania or Scotland, I think it's a good time to try my luck somewhere else anyway. See you later!" And with that the healer walked out of the tent, leaving behind a very annoyed Hermione.

This actually gave her an opening. It was the perfect excuse to leave Bulgaria without being questioned about her relationship. It wouldn't betray her break up, at least not as fast as relocating to a different reserve for no reason like she originally had planned would have done.

Romania it is, then. At least for the time being. I'll be back home after my curiosity is sated and enough time has passed so the press won't hound me with questions about Viktor. I'll just say the distance put too much pressure on our relationship and we simply grew apart or some such nonsense, she thought. When did my life turn into this? she wondered.

Hermione sighed and walked out, deciding she better start the paperwork sooner rather than later.