A/N: Written for week three of Cheeky's Weekly Drabble Competition.

I do not own Harry Potter.

"We're pregnant!"

The room exploded with hugs and tears and congratulations. No one noticed as Charlie Weasley backed out of the doorway. He snuck out into the garden, and sat down on the wooden bench. He sighed and let his head fall into his hands.

He had met Hermione Granger for the first time when she was just a teenager. To him, she was simply one of his little brother's friends; no more interesting than if she had been a boy.

But then, after the war, he had moved back to England and began to spend time with her and Ron. He got to know her and he realised that Hermione was all he had ever dreamt of finding in a woman; strong, intelligent, funny, and very beautiful. Despite knowing that her heart had always belonged to Ron, Charlie fell for her.

Now she had just announced that she was carrying his niece or nephew. As if he didn't have enough of those already.

Charlie ran a large hand through his shaggy red hair exasperatedly. He loved all of his nieces and nephews. He was often told that after George, he was the favourite Uncle. Charlie smiled wryly. It was like he always lost to one of his brother. George was the number one Uncle; Ron had gotten the girl…

"Charlie?" her voice penetrated his reverie and he glanced up from his hunched position wearily.

"Hey, Hermione," he sighed, "Congratulations." He forced a smile.

"I know," she said after a few minutes of silence.

"Know what?"

"About your feelings for me," Hermione blushed.

"Do you now?"

"I've suspected for a while," she nodded.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked.

"I just wanted you to know that I know," Hermione said and stood to leave.

Charlie mirrored her movements.

Hermione stepped away but Charlie's strong hand reached out and found her wrist.

"I may not be your husband, Hermione, but I do know you. Say what you have to say."

Hermione sighed, glancing quickly back at the house.

"I love Ron," Charlie rolled his eyes, "but I've always been attracted to you. Nothing can happen here," she gestured between them, "But I wanted to know that your feelings for me are not entirely unrequited."

Charlie was too shocked to move at first. Then his eyes slid from her brown orbs to her plump lips. Before he could stop himself, he had pulled Hermione to him and crashed his mouth to hers.

He bit back a moan as he registered the sweet taste of her lips. He wanted this girl, and in this moment he could care less who she was married to; whose baby she was carrying.

"Charlie," she whispered as she pulled away. Her eyes were full of sorrow, but he also saw a hint of longing, and that was enough for him.

"I love you," he said.

She smiled and nodded once, but did not respond.

Later that night, Charlie stayed up long after everyone else had gone to bed.

He used his favourite violet feather quill (the one Hermione had given him last Christmas) to draw plans of an elaborate toy chest he was determined to build – without magic - for his future niece or nephew.

If he wasn't able to father Hermione's children, he was sure going to try his best to beat George for the title of Best Uncle.