Blueberry Tart by Luvscharlie

Lavender was not accustomed to this sort of chaos. She was an only child and accompanying Charlie to the Burrow, even after this many months of dating, always made her feel a bit out of sorts.

Growing up, she had often thought that her parents had done her a disservice by having no other children. After spending an afternoon amidst Charlie's nieces and nephews, she felt the need to owl her parents with a note that simply said 'thank you'.

They stood outside the door of the Burrow and Charlie turned to her and said, "Ready?"
She took a deep breath as he opened the door and they were promptly swarmed by a herd of children.

"Uncle Charlie!" shouted one excited freckle-faced redhead.

"Uncle Charlie!" squealed a little boy who looked remarkably like Harry Potter.

"Get out of my way!" said the little bushy-haired girl as she shoved another child aside so as to make her way to Charlie first. That child undoubtedly belonged to Hermione Granger—Hermione Weasley, Lavender silently corrected herself.

"Get back the lot of you," Molly said, making her way through the sea of small bodies to reach her son and plant a kiss on his cheek. "Charlie, dear, you're home." Molly looked over Charlie's shoulder and the lines around her mouth visibly tightened. "Oh, and you brought your little… friend."

Molly Weasley had made it no secret that Lavender Brown was not her choice of a partner for her second son. However, Charlie gave an indulgent smile and pulled Lavender forward, his arm firmly around her waist. "You remember Lavender, Mum."

"Yes, of course. It's a surprise to see you again, dear."

Ah, so that was how it was to be. Lavender plastered a fake smile on her face and bit her tongue.

Luckily, at that moment Arthur Weasley rounded the corner, apparently having heard the exchange from the other room. "Don't be silly, Charlie. Of course, we remember Lavender, don't we dear?"

"Mm. Yes, of course." Molly excused herself to check her dinner and the children swarmed forward to command Charlie's attention once more.

"Look, Uncle Charlie," said a little boy with his finger in his mouth. "I has a woose toof."

And the 'look Uncle Charlies' continued. The faces ran together after a while, and Lavender had long since given up any hope of learning all their names. They seemed to procreate with the frequency of rabbits.

Seven hours and one international Portkey later, Lavender, complete with blueberry tart-covered jumper, collapsed onto the bed.

"Tired, eh?" Charlie asked, falling down beside her onto the mattress. He rolled toward her and laid his head upon her chest, then pulled a sour face. "You're sticky."

"I know."

"Thank you for the warning."

"I gave you as much warning as the wee beastie with the blueberry tart gave me."

"Fair enough." Charlie touched the sticky spot on his face and licked his finger. "Not bad."

Lavender grew quiet as she settled into the warmth of their bed. "What are you thinking, love?" Charlie asked, leaning in to nuzzle her neck.

"That if you touch me again, with even the thought of creating one of those little beasts, I'm going to box your ears."

"Ah, they're not so bad, you know?"

"Today is not the day to convince me of that," she replied, putting distance between them.

Charlie sighed and rolled away from her. "Good night, Lavender."

She giggled at the exaggerated disgusted sigh that followed his statement and leaned forward and kissed his cheek, coming away with sticky lips. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Charlie took note of the gesture and he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Mmm," she said in a seductive voice. "You're right, you know."

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. "About what?" he asked, pulling her face down to him.

"That tart's not half bad," she said, kissing him quickly on the lips and pulling away. "Good night, Charlie."

She heard him mumble the word 'tease' beneath his breath as he smacked her playfully on the bum then snuggled up behind her for the night.

She drifted off with what she was certain must have been a smile on her face. After all, they would not be visiting the Burrow again for at least six months… or more, if Lavender had anything to say about it.

~Fin.~

A/N: Written for the prompt of Uncle.