Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
~~BS~~
Bobby yelled, "Hello," into the phone for the third time, but no reply came. Hopefully just a wrong number and not John or the boys in trouble. He slammed the receiver down and stalked to the front door. Walking down his driveway, he thought about how waiting for news always made him into even more of a bastard. He reached the road and wiped his brow under the brim of his hat. He opened the mailbox and grimaced. Trying to ignore the tremor in his hand, he reached for the letter. Nothing special about it. Nothing he hadn't logically expected.
RETURN TO SENDER
PERSON(S) UNKNOWN
NO FORWARDING ADDRESS
"Balls," he said under his breath. He had sent his last letter to Hermione to her PO Box and her address in Hampstead. The one to Hampstead was returned. Only eight weeks later. God damn international mail. Maybe he should get one of those email addresses Ellen kept going on about.
Bobby turned from the steel box at the edge of his property and started back under the Singer Auto Salvage sign. He'd made it about halfway down the dirt drive when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. He paused for a fraction of a second but didn't stop, not wanting whatever it was that was watching him to figure out he was aware of its presence. Cheney started a low growl but didn't get up from his bone. He either couldn't see the danger or didn't find it threatening.
Bobby continued past the dog, up onto the porch and into the house, leaving the front door open. Moving quickly, he snatched his shot gun with his right hand and grabbed some salt rounds with his left. He turned to face the doorway and caught a small hand coming up to knock on the frame. Bobby froze, shells midway into the barrel. His eyes ran from her hand resting on the door frame, to the tense set of her shoulders. They lingered on her wild hair and slowly they moved to her face. Brown eyes blown wide, a splatter of freckles, a mouth distorted by a wince. As thought caught up to him, he could only think that Hermione's mouth was wrong. It should be smiling. That's how her mouth was in the four pictures that he kept locked in his desk. She should be happy; not staring at him with distrust. Why ain't she happy to see…
Bobby finally realized he was still loading the shotgun. He cleared his throat to make up for the lapse in brain power that was making speech impossible and lowered his weapon. Hermione's eyes relaxed and her mouth fell into a neutral line, but her body remained tense. He made no motion to invite her in. They stared at one another until the silence felt impossible to break. Then in a surprisingly embarrassed voice, Hermione finally spoke.
"Hi Uncle Bobby."
~~HG~~
"You didn't drive here," were the first words out of Bobby's mouth. Not a question, but a statement. Not a greeting. And most definitely not an invitation to come inside. Hermione realized that a man surrounded by cars and living in the middle of nowhere would probably distrust anyone who showed up without an automobile. She looked up into his face and saw hesitance and confusion. But something in his gaze suggested he was relieved to see her.
"No. I didn't," Hermione slowly replied, her eyes traveling back to the large gun in his hands. "Actually I've never learned how. Never had the need. My Dad offered to-"
Hermione stopped short and her hand twitched for the wand hidden up her sleeve as Bobby lifted the gun from his side, only to lay it on a small table to his right.
"You didn't think to warn me that you'd invited yourself over?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow. Without the gun, Bobby seemed to be at a loss on what to do with his hands. He tucked them into the pockets of his worn denims, only to take them out to fiddle with his fingers.
Hermione took a deep breath and crossed her arms. She knew coming to South Dakota without warning him had been impetuous. Particularly for her. But after the final battle and the briefings with Kingsley and the boys, she had returned to London and retrieved the letters he had continued to send throughout her year on the run. She moved in with the Weasleys and grieved with them over the loss of Fred and countless others. She helped with the Hogwarts cleanup and sat as a witness for the Malfoys' trials.
But Bobby was always in the back of her mind. So Bobby was a Hunter. Hermione had to research what exactly that meant; she quite enjoyed having a research project not intricately linked to her own survival. Bobby was also family. Technically the only family she had (who still remembered her). Family who had experience with the preternatural. Family she needed. Once she felt the Weasleys were stable enough without her, she met with Harry and Ron and told them she had an uncle in America and her plans to find her parents. Harry had offered to come along, but Hermione wanted to appeal to her uncle's sense of family, and couldn't do so with a friend in tow. Even if Harry was her brother in everything but blood.
After that, the idea of writing him and waiting for a response seemed impossible. What would she write? Somehow, 'I'm alive and need to see you' seemed as farcical as saying 'you've mistaken me for a hunter but I'm really a witch.' Calling a man she had never met seemed equally objectionable for the same reasons. What could she say that wouldn't result in him hunting her down or writing her off entirely?
She cleared her throat, "If you're busy, I can come back another time." Hermione watched as Bobby's eyes widened and his hands moved towards hers as if to pull her over the threshold. He seemed to change his mind last second as his hands stilled and then dropped to his sides.
"You'd better come in," he said gruffly. Instead of turning to allow Hermione to follow him, Bobby simply backed away from the door. Hermione entered and quietly closed the door behind her. When she turned round, she could see Bobby's piercing blue eyes tracking her into the room, yet he seemed slightly more relaxed. Maybe he still actually thought she would leave.
"You want something to drink? I think I still have some tea that your parents sent me. Though it's several years old now."
Hermione agreed if only to move them further into the house and away from the door. As they crossed the small foyer, Hermione caught sight of books stacked haphazardly on every surface. They moved into the kitchen and Bobby filled a kettle before setting it on the stove. He turned to Hermione. "So… you're alive."
Hermione nodded and smiled slightly. Merlin, this man had a way with words. She realized they were staring at each other again.
"What's Sturgis?" Hermione asked, as she made a pointed look at Bobby's cap. Apparently she wasn't much better with words. Come on Hermione; you're as bad as Ron when he first met Fleur.
Bobby stared at her for another second before launching into a story regarding the town and the history of the motorcycle rally. The kettle boiled and Hermione realized he didn't really know how to make tea, at least not the British way. But Bobby seemed more inclined to talk when his hands were busy, and she was loath to interrupt. Hermione started to think that Sturgis was similar to a quidditch match - if she ever went, she would remember to bring a good book. Bobby concluded his story by saying he liked the town, but didn't like the crowds. He then motioned for Hermione to sit at the kitchen table.
"I, uh, don't have any milk. But I have some sugar. Maybe even some honey."
"Sugar would be lovely. Thank you." Hermione took pity on him and let her eyes wander around the room. Everything appeared worn. The table. The mismatched chairs. The home seemed cared for, but in a spartan way. She looked back to Bobby who seemed to be taking a long time to find the sugar.
"Here we go," he said as he sat a mug down in front of her. She realized he hadn't made a cup for himself. Bobby sat opposite her, but seemed to hold his breath as she stared at the mug. Hermione wondered if he was concerned about the taste. She took a sip as she continued to scan the room and her eyes came to rest on a line of phones with attached labels. Her curiosity had her opening her mouth to ask, but she looked at Bobby and found him smiling at her. Not so gruff after all then.
She smiled slightly and took another sip of the admittedly weak tea. Bobby took a big breath in through his nose and relaxed more into his seat. Hermione opened her mouth and blurted just as Bobby began to speak:
"I'm not a Hunter."
"So what were you hunting?"