Carpathian

Sunday, 6:58 pm

The rest of the day passed faster than Hermione would have preferred. She and Draco met up with the others for lunch before Hermione spent the afternoon following Charlie while he checked on all the Common Welsh Greens and she made a final effort to gather any more information about the dragon attacks. When he had asked how her morning had been, she didn't mention Norberta or the other Norwegian Ridgebacks.

"Just enjoyed the grounds."

Charlie didn't pry. Hermione didn't offer. She doubted Charlie would have approved of Draco's decision to bring her along, and it felt unfair to throw Draco under the Knight Bus after he'd taken the time to teach her that charm. Draco could consider that to be her thank you. And after all the secrets Charlie had kept from her about his life at the sanctuary, Hermione felt no guilt keeping this inconsequential one. No use stirring a potential argument when she was leaving in a few hours anyway.

As Julia had planned, they went into Verdell for dinner instead of joining the rest of the keepers in the mess hall. The local wizarding town wasn't far, but due to the sanctuary's wards restricting anyone from Apparating in or out, they had to Apparate to the edge of the protective dome before opening a temporary break in the wards and then Apparating the rest of the way into Verdell.

The same lush green landscape that surrounded the sanctuary also encircled Verdell. As they strolled down the path, Hermione felt like she was in the sylvan twin of Hogsmeade. Witches and wizards of all ages flowed through the street, entering and exiting the various shops that lined the main artery. There was an apothecary, a robes shop, several pubs and restaurants, and a store that exclusively sold dragon leather goods. Hermione ached to explore the bookshop, but Charlie pulled her back to the group before she slipped away.

Their destination was at the far end of town: the inn where Hermione had originally planned to stay. A worn sign with a cutout of a fire-breathing dragon denoted their arrival at the Dennfyre. Much like the Leaky Cauldron, the ground level contained a bar, a dining room, and several private parlours. Enchanted instruments levitated in a corner of the ceiling played background music while a crowd of patrons ate and drank.

Other than the fact that Julia was quieter than usual, dinner went as it always did. They laughed, ate, and exchanged updated theories. There wasn't much new to report—despite how hard Hermione had tried to uncover something, anything , more before she left. A day hadn't been sufficient.

When it reached half-past eight, Markus and Aurel prepared to leave to help Doru with the night patrol, and she knew the time had come, far too soon as it may be.

Hermione stood along with the departing wizards. "I should head back with them," she said, much to her disappointment. "My Portkey is scheduled to reactivate at ten, and I don't want to make the rest of you leave early."

"Nonsense." Charlie motioned for her to sit down. "So much of my weekend has been consumed by the dragon attacks. I'm not losing my last hour with you!"

She didn't want to lose her final hour with Charlie either, but then again, Hermione never liked cutting things close. If she hadn't packed in such a distracted rush so she could flip through the books and try one last time to uncover something valuable to tell Draco about the attacks, Hermione would have thought to bring her beaded bag so she didn't have to return to the sanctuary. But it was too late to fix that mistake.

Charlie didn't look like he was going to take no as an answer, yet it was a different voice at the table who forced her contemplation short.

"Take your seat, Granger. Not everything has to be a fifteen minute mental debate."