Charlie Weasley was in a sour mood. For one, the dragon reserve in Romania had stopped bringing in new dragons before closure, and he was being forced to move to Wales, to a new reserve. The friends that he'd made in Romania were all going to different countries; China, India, Thailand, Peru. He was the only one out of the group that was going back home.
At least it's close to home, he thought as he packed his meager belongings in a tattered duffel bag. An hour before his Portkey activated, he had enough time to go say goodbye to the dragons going to the other reserves. Slowly walking to each section designated for different dragons, he leaned against the railing in front of the magical barrier and gazed at the dragons that were snoozing as an effect of a sleeping potion. Ukranian Ironbellies were going back to their native country of Ukraine, and the Siamese Thorntails were already being prepared by a different trainer to Portkey to the Thai North East.
Three-quarters of an hour had passed since he'd begun walking, and he began the trek back to the main building. He was greeted by another trainer- a tall and lithe middle-aged German wizard with salt and pepper hair- who went by the name of Johannes, who was going to a reserve in the Mediterranean, a WIzarding island unbeknownst to Muggles.
"You, sad to leave?" the older trainer asked Charlie as both of them rested against the wall. Charlie hesitated before replying.
"I think I will. Spent more than ten years of my life here," he said, looking around at the almost-deserted departure hall. The last time he'd checked his watch, it had been ten minutes until they could leave. Now, they would be able to leave any minute.
"I will miss this." The other wizard sighed, bringing a hand up to massage his temple. Charlie nodded soberly in agreement.
A booming voice was magically amplified. "Portkey to Ottery St. Catchpole leaving in one minute and thirty seconds." Charlie bid goodbye to the other dragon trainer with a few words about good luck, and walked over to the empty Muggle cola can that served as a Portkey.
As the Portkey glowed bright blue and activated, Charlie felt the familiar tug against his navel as he reached a dingy, deserted Wizarding pub that was only used for Portkey landings in the area.
He pushed open the door of the pub and stepped into the crisp late autumn air of Ottery St. Catchpole. He could spot the crooked roof and numerous chimneys of the Burrow from here, and smiled slightly at the thought of the delicious dinner his mum would be booking tonight.
Upon his arrival at the Burrow, Charlie could indeed smell a delicious dinner cooking on the stove.
He placed his duffel bag on the floor next to the door and was immediately bombarded with hugs from Mrs. Weasley and Ginny.
"Look at you, Charlie! All skin and bones, we'll have you stuffed up before you start work in Wales, we shall!" Mrs. Weasley gushed as she assessed his injuries from an arm's length away, cringing as she saw his burns. "And we'll get all of those healed up properly. Don't know what kind of healers you have over in Romania but…"
Charlie momentarily ignored his mother as Ginny hugged him again.
"It's good to see you, Charlie," she said, sighing as she wrapped two arms around her big brother. He hugged her back, towering over her. Charlie ruffled her hair in the way he knew she hated.
"I missed you too, Gin. I'm sort of glad to be home, even if it means being in the same vicinity as you." He grinned good-heartedly at his only sister, "Just joking."
Suddenly, he noticed her stomach was rounder than usual. Surely she couldn't be!
"Are you…" he gulped. "Ginny! You're… pregnant?" he asked, eyes widened.
Ginny laughed. "Didn't I say that in one of the letters I owled you? Or at least in a Floo call?"
Charlie frowned instantly as Ginny confirmed it. "I must've forgotten. Anyway, congratulations to my baby sister! I'm going to be an uncle!" He grinned, "Although…" he looked in the direction of the living room where he could see Harry and Ron playing wizard's chess, "I must have a few words with your dear boyfriend."
"Fiancée Ginny corrected him.
He made his way through the kitchen as Ginny yelled, "Don't hurt him, Charlie!" behind him. He was halfway through the doorway when he crashed into something- or someone- petite.
He heard a feminine scream, and before he knew it, he was lying on top of a small girl with brown curly hair. He could smell vanilla shampoo from his position, and inhaled deeply. Suddenly realizing he was in the middle of the living room, he scrambled up and held out a hand to the girl. He took a good look at her face, and noted that she was pretty in a way. Chestnut locks, chocolate-brown eyes and plump pink bow-shaped lips.
"Hermione?" he heard Harry exclaim as he rushed over to help up the girl, pushing away Charlie's hand unintentionally. Charlie withdrew his hand, taking a few steps back.
Charlie stopped momentarily. Hermione, he mused. She was his little brother's and Harry's best friend wasn't she, the know-it-all? She'd grown up to be a beauty, then; a complete three-sixty from the bushy haired awkward pre-teen she was the first time he'd met her one Christmas.
"Sorry," she apologized, brushing the front of her jeans as she stood up, aided by Harry.
"No, it should be me apologizing," he said in return, smiling. "Sorry for crashing into you." Hermione shook her head.
"It's fine."
She pulled the bottom of her jumper down and returned to the windowsill seat and resumed reading a book.
Charlie liked the feel of her soft body under his; it sent shivers tingling all over his body. He shook his head and went back into the kitchen to fix a hot mug of tea.