The Sparrow Suite

A/N: I posted the first three chapters of this story a while back but hit a massive roadblock in Chapter 4 and never continued. However, I feel like I found a way to push forward with this so I'm posting it again. The previous title of the story was "A Tornado of Roses" but I renamed it to "The Sparrow Suite." This is a Charlie/Hermione romance story that starts in 1999, just a little over a year after the Battle of Hogwarts. It's canon compliant though ignores the Epilogue. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: A Broken Nose

This was not how Charlie Weasley imagined his day would start out: With a broken and bloody nose. And he was thoroughly pissed off at the witch who caused it: None other than Hermione Granger. Was it too much to ask that he have some peace and quiet whilst the dragons from Romania were transferred over to Northumberland, marking this as one of the few times he had off from work? It apparently was as the Burrow was brimming with members of his own kin, Harry Potter, and of course, the Girl-Who-Caused-My-Broken-Nose-Granger.

The war was over and Voldemort had finally been defeated by none other than Harry himself. Their final confrontation was held in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been a horrific final encounter for those who opposed his rule and the Death Eaters that supported it. The cost was great as many lives had been taken that fateful night, including Fred Weasley.

In the months following his defeat, the wizarding community tried to reestablish their way of life, something that was nearly destroyed by Voldemort's rise to power. The Ministry of Magic was in shambles, their population had deteriorated by vast numbers, and the ancient school of magic was a ruin of its former self. It was a large undertaking, a task that would take many months, if not several years, for total recuperation.

With Kingsley Shacklebolt as interim Minister, efforts to rebuild were in full swing. Many available hands reported to repair the damage the war left in its wake. However, things were far from normal as witches and wizards were slow to break ground into what had been a fruitful past.

That was one year ago and the wizarding establishment in Great Britain was returning to a small sense of normalcy although the presence of dark witches and wizards whispered in the dark.

"Charlie, you're going to have to hold still," Mrs. Weasley said. The dragon tamer had a hard time following her directions for anger was coursing through his very veins. His hands had balled into fists at the pain that Granger girl had put him through so early in the morning and was putting a damper on what he had hoped to be a fine day of relaxation. "I can't fix your nose unless you stop moving!" His mum now had her hands on her hips, irritated that her second-oldest son was acting like a four-year-old nuisance. In reality, Charlie was twenty-seven.

He seethed at the kitchen table, forcing himself to take several deep breaths to calm his inner core though it was still raging inside of him like a monster trying to break free – evidence of the famous, or infamous, Weasley temper.

"She had no right, no right at all, to slam open the front door like that! I mean, what kind of mental witch does that anyway," he said grumpily.

"If you must know, Hermione had another row with your youngest brother," Mrs. Weasley answered, her hands still on her hips.

"So she has to throw open the door like that?!"

"I'm sure she didn't see you dear, but if you cannot hold still, I'll have you fix your own nose!" Hearing an edge to his mother's tone along with a fury that bubbled in her gaze, Charlie finally took control of himself though his thoughts spiraled into overdrive.

So apparently I'm the loser in her row with Ron. Yes, how fair life was! I'm just an innocent bloke, a bystander who planned on charming some witches over in Diagon Alley. Instead, I'm still at home waiting for my nose to be fixed!

"Charlie, you need to calm down," his mother tried to placate. "It's just a broken nose, an easy fix. Though I must say that Hermione had to have used all of her strength to open the door like that. You have multiple fractures." She flicked her wand at him while adding, "That poor girl."

"Mum, she didn't just open the front door, she slammed it. And poor girl…really? I wasn't aware she had anything broken that needed to be fixed."

"Well that's where you're wrong. She probably has a broken heart as I know she hates fighting with Ron. You would think with the two of them being together for over a year now that they would've found some common ground. Apparently with those two, bickering is their common ground," she sighed.

"What's it been? Like every day since I've been back they've fought? They're like annoying schoolchildren."

Mrs. Weasley decided not to answer for she pointed her wand at her son's nose again and waved it in a short pattern. Charlie then felt a certain warmth blanket his nose before it turned icy cold.

"There," she announced with a curt nod. "That should do the trick."

"Thanks," he murmured, touching his newly-mended nose. He stood to his feet, stretching his arms high over his head. "Don't you think it's time for the two of them to marry off and start a family of their own? You know, somewhere far, far away from the Burrow?" In reality, he knew they were a bit young to get married but all he cared for was to distance himself from Hermione. And if it took a bout of marriage to accomplish that, then Charlie would minister the ceremony himself.

"Stop that talk," she scolded sternly. "She's only twenty! And Ron's still nineteen! Harry and Ginny are more than I can handle at the moment."

"In her case then, that's a decade older to know better than to slam open doors in other people's faces."

"You leave her alone, understood?" Mrs. Weasley had resumed her initial position with her hands on her hips. "She doesn't need another Weasley to argue with!"

"I've been around witches like her before and they're all the same: Bad news. I have nothing more to say to her."

Mrs. Weasley let out a heavy sigh and shook her head, seemingly to decide to let the subject matter drop for the time being.

"How about you make yourself useful and de-gnome the garden."

"Mum, can you tell me exactly what I'm being punished for," he groaned loudly. "I have plans!"

However, Charlie instantly backed down when his mother threw him one of her trademark glares, a dire warning that her words were not to be questioned. Admitting defeat, he rolled his eyes and walked out of the kitchen feeling both angry and downright annoyed at the frivolous chore his mum had tasked him with.

Stepping out in the warm July air, Charlie craned his neck to the left and right, satisfied upon hearing several cracks when he did so. He took a deep breath and smiled at the senses that invaded his nasal passages. A slight smile then crept over his face as his mind roamed over to one particular witch who worked in Diagon Alley. If all went well later that day, Charlie certainly had no plans of sleeping in his own bed that night.

His goodwill was short-lived, however, for at that moment, his eyes fell upon Hermione - the witch who had a bash in causing the physical pain of others in her warpath, namely that of broken noses. She was sitting against the trunk of a tree nestled some yards away with her arms wrapped protectively around her middle. Her eyes had an unfocused look about them as her thoughts appeared to be scattered.

Wanting an apology for his early-morning distress, Charlie marched over to her, ignoring his mother's admonition of leaving her be. The grass crunched underneath his shoes as a slight wind raced over him, rippling his white shirt over his muscled form in small waves.

Upon his arrival, she looked up at him and rolled her eyes. For some reason he couldn't explain, this greatly annoyed him. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at her, waiting patiently. He didn't care if he wasn't welcome. In fact, he would've preferred that standing before her was raking on Hermione's last nerve.

"Can I help you," she asked frostily.

"I would like for you to apologize," he responded curtly.

She scoffed, standing to her feet. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. All I want is a simple act of contrition."

"Act of contrition," she sneered. "Did you have to look that up before you came over?"

"I'm not leaving until I hear it." He stared over at her, a pillar of fury burning inside him.

"And why, exactly, would I do that?"

He snorted, "You broke my nose. Or didn't you near the various cracks over your wild ranting?"

"I was not ranting," she responded loudly. "And I wasn't aware that I had to apologize for blatant stupidity!"

"Blatant stupidity," he parroted, his voice raising several octaves. "How on earth did you reach that silly conclusion?"

"You clearly had time to move out of the way! I saw you approach the front door when I was coming down the stairs!"

"That is…that's not…listen, are you going to apologize or not?" He stammered over his words, cursing himself as he did so. Though it was foggy, he did remember pausing before entering the Burrow as he heard Hermione and Ron trade insults with each other, something he had found rather amusing.

"I'm not apologizing for something that could've been prevented on your part!"

"Well good because I'm not apologizing either!"

He stomped away, realizing that his last statement made absolutely no sense. He surely didn't have to say sorry to Hermione for he was, after all, the victim in this case. With his temper now reach scorching levels, the sun feeding a flame to the fire, he barely noticed his sister pass by him. She shot him a death glare while tacking on, "You can be so callous sometimes, you know that?" He turned his head and watched Ginny make her way towards Hermione, the pair resuming the latter's position of sitting against the tree he had just left. The branches provided them with lamps of shade.

He fumed as he went over to the Weasley garden, a large plotted area near the kitchen window where wild, thorn-ridden weeds coexisted with a flurry of multi-colored flowers and rambles of bushes. A wooden fence squared the perimeter. Crooked trees dotted a row along a low-stone wall while a neighborhood of grass stood waist-high. Frogs rioted a nearby pond, croaking loudly. They huddled near green lily pads.

Bending forward, Charlie thrust his hand in a random bush. In his first attempt, he managed to grab eight gnomes at once. Their hard and bony feet kicked out at him, each one resembling something close to a potato with arms and legs. They all wore masks of outrage at being manhandled to the degree of Charlie hurling them as far as he could. Some of the creatures slammed into the trunks of scattered trees in the distance while others were swallowed by the leaves of high-standing limbs. On his second attempt, Charlie took hold of seven more as gnomes were not known for being very bright. They popped out of their gnomeholes to see what the commotion was about.

As he turned to grab another handful, a large, ginger cat suddenly jumped onto his back, surprising him. The feline then targeted a nearby bush that was actively moving about, it seeming to host an entire tribe of gnomes. Crookshanks dove for the underbrush, its bottleneck tail perked straight into the air. Its yellow eyes glowed as it pawed the scrub's thickness. Suddenly, nearly a dozen gnomes scattered out from under the bush, running in all different directions. Their high-pitched laugher mingled together like a young girls' choir. Crookshanks raced after them as Charlie shook his head and got back to work. It was as if he couldn't escape Hermione's supposed wrath against him for now her own cat was intent on attacking him.

The de-gnoming became more vicious as Charlie now bore a multitude of teeth marks on his fingers. He cursed each bite he bore. He took a short break, standing upright and cracking his back. His mind though wandered over to Hermione and his little sister, he having no doubt they were conversing over her and Ron's latest blowup, of Charlie's broken nose, or the accompanying spat he shared with her several minutes after the fact.

He didn't really think he had asked for a whole lot from the young witch, just a simple apology would've been more than sufficient. Yet she was strong-headed, a trait many witches his age lacked. This was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it was easy to have a late-night rendezvous end in a long snogging session accompanied by a hour-long shag (this would obviously be before another early-morning quickie, Charlie's specialty according to a large number of birds). However, now that he was older and aging each minute that ticked by, he wanted to find a girl he could talk to and connect with on a personal level. Someone who he wanted to spend his time with. A bird that could challenge him and he her on wide array of topics.

Presently, most of the witches he spent time with began and ended their vocabulary with words that described his outward appearance and was usually one syllable. Conversing with them was like pulling teeth. The most fascinating thing about these birds was their yelps of pleasure as he drilled into them over and over. His favorite was spending the night with a girl who spoke broken English. She did things to him that he didn't think was possible. Of course, he dropped her when she began snooping for something long-term. He sometimes wondered if he was ever meant to settle down and became grumpy whenever the thought clouded his mind.

This was a stark contrast to Ginny who was currently engaged to Harry. Their wedding was set to take place next week on the grounds of the Burrow. While he was happy for his little sister, thrilled even, he did harbor a small ounce of shame that she was set to be married long before he was, if he ever took the plunge at all. His mum reminded him heartily of that, not that he needed nor wanted any such tip-off. And his older brother Bill took the mickey out of him as well every time he saw him.

He sighed as he grabbed his last handful of gnomes and chucked each of them absent-mindedly. He huffed with displeasure when Hermione and Ginny's giggling carried in the wind.

Hermione, naturally, was set to be Ginny's Maid of Honor while Ron was due as Harry's Best Man. Charlie considered the wedding to make for an interesting show if the couple hadn't patched up their latest round of fighting which really was becoming a bothersome irritation. He figured that they literally fought over everything, from Ron's wild eating habits to Hermione's constant worrying over her future. She was set to start Healer training within the coming weeks. It made Charlie wonder why they even stayed together at all seeing that they didn't have much in common (other than always having a go at one another).

Just as Charlie was about to fling his last gnome, Hermione's laughter, sounding as if it was right behind him, startled him, making him slacken his grasp so that he gnome crashed through the kitchen window instead. It shattered into thousands of tiny splinters before they buried themselves like treasure in the garden.

"Nice going, Charlie," a voice that belonged to Ginny said. He whipped around only to see Hermione fighting down a smile.

"Something funny," he fumed over at her.

"Ginny and I were rating your throwing abilities before. She said that you were good but I disagreed. I think you just proved my point. He far was that toss? Five feet?"

"Like you could do much better." He then shot her a mocking smile and challenged, "I'm surprised you even know what tossing is."

Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione tilted her head towards him knowingly before entering into the Burrow. Ginny smiled and waved at him as she followed.

"She thinks she's bloody funny, doesn't she," he asked himself aloud. "What I would give to prove her wrong."

However, Hermione reappeared, the struggling gnome firmly in her grasp. She stepped into the garden and paused directly in front of Charlie. They stared at each other, their noses nearly touching. Charlie felt his pulse quicken. She then spun around, spread her feet, and started spinning the gnome over her head. Upon her release, Charlie felt his jaw drop open as the small creature was launched far in the distance. Its flailing body looked like a small fairy against the horizon. While it wasn't nearly as far as he had thrown them, Charlie was nevertheless stunned at Hermione's trial. She then took out her wand and waved it, repairing the kitchen window.

"You look disappointed," she stated when she turned back around to face him. He noticed they were awfully close to one another.

Ignoring this, he snapped his mouth shut as he drew up the hem of white t-shirt and wiped his face free of the rivers of sweat that raced down his cheeks. When he finished, he let his top fall back into position though he caught Hermione staring at his exposed physique.

Smiling nastily, he ripped his shirt off and tossed it directly in Hermione's face. She caught it in shock.

"And you look surprised," he traded back. As he walked away from her, he called out, "Feel free to keep it! It'll pleasure you far more than anyone else can!"

Dinner that night was a boisterous affair, much like it was every night at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had cooked up a hearty meal which was being consumed greedily by the kitchen table's occupants.

Ron was grabbing at everything in sight, small bits and pieces of food flying from where he sat. Charlie was situated across from Ginny who was sandwiched between Harry and Hermione, the latter of who kept shooting disgusted looks at her significant other.

"I vas finking vat 'e 'ould splay some 'idditch vafter din-dinur," Ron said incoherently over to Charlie, his mouth full of crushed food. He burped loudly after.

"Ronald Weasley," his mother scolded. "Have some manners, please!"

While Ginny cringed, looking away at the ghastly site, Hermione reprimanded, "And could you please not talk with your mouth full?"

Before he could retaliate, Charlie jumped in, "Leave the poor bloke alone. It's not like you're his wife or anything."

She glared over at him and responded, "Excuse me, Charles, but I wasn't aware that I was talking to you."

"And who do you think you're calling Charles? My name is Charlie." Oh, how he hated to be called Charles. It soured him like eating a bogey flavor out of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"This is me pretending to care," she replied simply, turning back to Ron to chastise him again over his wild eating routine.

"You know," Charlie interrupted before Hermione could go off on a tirade he could sense was building inside her, "maybe if you were a bit nicer, you and Ron wouldn't fight so much. I mean, seriously, how old do you claim to be?"

Hermione looked as if she had been hit with a Stinging hex, stunning her into complete silence. She stared across the table at Charlie. For a split second, he triumphed at this though this feeling faded when small bouts of hurt bloomed in her eyes. He suddenly felt unsure if he had overstepped a boundary with her. It wasn't like he was still angry at her for breaking his nose – his failed attempt to charm the witch he fancied in Diagon Alley depleted his livid, early-morning state - even if she hadn't apologized.

He stabbed at his lamb while Hermione didn't speak another word for the rest of the meal, making the Weasley kitchen table off balance. One end was alive with talk and laughter while the other resembled a funeral arrangement. The only elements missing were a coffin, flowers, and condolences.

After dinner had been squandered, the family retired to the living room sans Ron and Hermione. Charlie had no doubt that the two were making up with each other via a fresh snogging session.

Such schoolchildren, he grumbled.

Charlie's mind, however, was still playing over the small sense of hurt that had gathered over Hermione's face after his throwaway comment to her. He wasn't haunted by it but more uneasy. Through it all, he was aggravated with himself wondering why he should care over how his comment made her feel.

"How's your nose," came the voice of Bill, breaking Charlie out of his silent muse.

He laughed once as he answered, "Fixed."

"Hermione got you good then, huh?"

"You could bloody well say that," he returned. "She definitely knows how to throw open front doors."

Bill grinned as Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Fleur were huddled together on the floor of the living area feet from the fireplace. They were discussing the upcoming wedding.

"Seems to be a fire-breather," Bill tested. "Kind of like you."

"No…no, no, no, no, and no. Absolutely not. I have nothing in common with her and could care less about her and what she does."

"Touched a nerve, haven't I?"

"What're you talking about?"

Bill shrugged. "You got all red just a second ago."

"I did not."

"You did too."

"Bill, c'mon and listen to yourself! You're talking crazy nonsense about some fairytale in your head. Nothing is going on between me and Hermione."

"Charlie, don't be so dimwitted. I said nothing of the sort nor did I insinuate it," he added hastily after he saw Charlie open his mouth in protest. "I don't hang around here enough to calculate what Hermione's feelings, if any, toward you are but I think you have a soft spot for her somewhere inside of you."

"And what brought you to that conclusion being that, what were your words, don't hang around here enough?" Charlie crossed his arms over his chest.

"I saw how you interacted at dinner," he told him. "You guys kind of go out of the way to pick on each other."

"And you think that means I have a soft spot for her? Mate, you couldn't be more wrong. I don't ever act like that towards the witches that bring me to their places for one-two action spectacular."

"Oh, right," Bill nodded. "And these are the same witches you complain about being so barmy. Those ones?"

"Look at you, trying to play matchmaker! Breaking ancient curses got a bit boring for you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," Bill responded. "But you are behind a bit when it comes to relationships. I'm sure you know that."

"Mum doesn't remind me enough, actually," Charlie remarked bitterly.

"Well you do want to settle down, don't you?"

"Eventually, yes. I just haven't found the right one yet."

"You never know. You could've found her and just don't know it."

Charlie let out a heavy sigh and said, "Not going on again about Hermione, are you? In case you didn't know, she and Ron are a couple of sorts."

"Then I'm glad you think the two are made for each other."

Charlie cocked his head to one side in puzzlement. "What are you on about?"

"When mum was telling me of your broken nose, she let slip that Ron and Hermione fight, a lot."

"They do. And? Do you have a point?"

"Just that healthy relationships don't involve a squabble every day. Yes, there are some here and there but the amount of bickering they do, according to mum at least, makes me wonder if they're the perfect match or not."

At this, Charlie barked out a laugh, though no one in the nearby vicinity paid it any attention. "Look at you, Bill! Gossiping about our youngest brother and his girl! Never knew you had it in you!"

"I don't do those side chitchats. I do help a brother in need though."

"For the last time, I do not have a soft spot for Hermione. I never had and never will. You said so yourself that we go out of our way to pick on each other."

"You do which is vastly different from what she and Ron partake in, again based on what mum's been telling me."

Charlie shook his head from side to side, letting out a long breath in disbelief that Bill was seemingly trying to make him believe that Hermione held a place deep inside his inner being.

"Listen, Charlie, I'm your older brother-,"

"Thank you for reminding me. I seemed to have forgotten that over the past minute or so."

"And I want what's best for you," Bill continued as if there had been no interruption. "I'm not saying that Hermione is the one for you or anything but I feel like it would do you well to stop having these one-night flings and maybe open your eyes a bit more. Some birds might surprise you."

"Weren't you the one to tell me to go out and live a little?"

"Charlie, you're twenty-seven! Yeah, bachelorhood might appeal to you now but what about in five years or ten? Are you sure you'll still be invested in the flavor of the week then?"

"Trust me Bill, I've tried telling myself that ever since I heard that Ginny was going to tie the knot. But no one, even back in Romania, jumped out at me. Yes, they look good and all but there's nothing past the heavy makeup and bedroom smiles."

"Love doesn't always skip out to you. Sometimes, it's more of a slow burn, making you seek out the fire before you feel the flames."

"Words from the wise, I take it?"

"Nah, just some strung-together rubbish," he relayed, making both of them smile. Seeing his wife yawn behind her hand, he then stated, "Well, looks like it's time for me to get Fleur home. I'm a bit tired myself."

Charlie nodded once before giving Bill a half-hearted wave of his hand.

"Don't beat yourself up too much about this. You'll find what you're after. Just be patient and give it a little time," he said, standing to his feet.

Charlie nodded in understanding as Bill went over and helped Fleur to her feet. The duo then bid their farewells to the family and apparated to their home, Shell Cottage.

George and Percy then signified their departure, the latter of who was helping out at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop the twins had initially put together. Percy took the blame for Fred's death as he was fighting right alongside of him when the explosion occurred. This was his way of making remittances with his mental state. The two roomed together above the store in Diagon Alley though Percy stressed his involvement was temporary. Only until George could find a suitable partner to continue on with. Percy still had ambitions to work his way up the Ministry of Magic ladder to a prominent position though he seemed to abolish the idea of gaining superiority in the magical government.

Ginny then headed upstairs, eyeing Charlie rather beadily. He held her stare, wondering what her thoughts were. Harry and Mr. Weasley followed soon after.

"Charlie, you best be up to bed now," Mrs. Weasley said. "You look like you could use some shut-eye."

"I think I'm going to stay up a bit, maybe down a cup of tea or something," he replied, feeling that his mind needed a bit of relaxation and alone time after conversing with Bill.

"Okay but be a good lad and don't stay up half the night," she chided softly.

"Sure thing. 'Night mum."

"Good night, honey," she smiled before taking herself away.

Charlie moved into the kitchen and waved his wand, bringing a kettle of water to a boil. He stood there silently and waited. The darkness pressed against the newly-constructed window Hermione had put back together some hours earlier. As he waved down a mug from a nearby cabinet, he thought over just how far she had thrown the last gnome. A smile played against him as he remembered the creature's spinning arms and legs. Memories of his dad taking him and Bill to a Muggle circus suddenly reeled inside of him.

He then sighed over Bill's prior comments that he, Charlie Weasley, had some sort of soft spot for Hermione. He gathered that that was the most utterly ridiculous statement Bill had ever made, and that was saying something. It was quite illogical as well since Charlie never thought much about Hermione. After all, they didn't know each other a great deal and hadn't got on well either. Them picking on one another was the length of their usual conversations, anchoring no depth or symmetry. It wasn't as if he particularly enjoyed his spats with her but looked on it as more of a moral obligation to knock her down a peg or two. She knew way too much for her own good.

When the kettle began to scream, piercing the stillness reverberating from the silence of the home, he poured his mug to its brim, dipped in a tea bag, and took a loud sip. He hummed as the contents raced down his throat, feeling like he was replenished of an energy that had been stolen from him some time ago.

He then started to make his way back in the living area, heading towards the couch he and Bill had previously occupied, when he abruptly ran into an object of sorts, one that was made up of bushy brown hair. His mug turned over in his hands, dousing his front in a scalding heat.

"Bugger!" he yelled, jumping back in agony. He let the cup slip through his fingers where it exploded over the wooden floor of the kitchen. His shirt had started to gather a large tea stain.

He trained his eyes on the witch in question and stated furiously, "A broken nose wasn't good enough for you so you had to spill hot tea all over me?"

"If you were looking where you were going, maybe that wouldn't have happened," Hermione snapped with equal ferocity. Her features looked as if they had been combed over carefully, a tactic Charlie knew well from birds who smoothed themselves out after a rough shag. This supported his earlier theory that she and Ron had partook in a rather wild snogging session after dinner. For some reason, this bothered him.

He pushed these thoughts from his mind as he fired back, "You weren't looking where you were going either so this is mainly your fault! In fact you're entirely to blame. In case you didn't get the memo, in this household," he pointed a finger toward where the broken teacup remnants remained, "we usually wait for anyone inside the kitchen to exit before piling through the doorway!"

Hermione let out a humorless laugh before responding, "Show me the written-down rules where that's stated because that has to be one of the most absurd things I have ever heard."

"It's not a rule, it's called being courteous," he growled, feeling his temper soar. "A word I'm sure you know next to nothing about."

"Excuse you but I know exactly what the word necessitates. It's just your clumsiness that always gets in the way and you fault me for it because you have no sense of responsibility!"

"You would…you dare…I can't believe…you're infuriating," he finally stuttered out. "The most maddening person I've ever had the misfortune to meet which is saying something as I work with dragon tamers who get pissed on a nightly basis."

"That's actually quite funny," Hermione nodded. "Did you include yourself in that bundle of people who get pissed?"

Charlie scoffed, "I can't even have a decent conversation with you."

"You never even tried to act civilized towards me before. All you do is make snide remarks."

"How about a resolution to our little dilemma then," Charlie proposed. "Tomorrow, we spend as little time as possible together. Then at night, we sit as far away from each other at dinner. Then we won't have to talk to each other, won't have to look at each other, and sure as hell won't have to breathe the same air as each other."

"That's fine by me!"

"It's fine with me too! You and Ron can use the extra space at the table to put on a kissing show for the entire family to witness. That'll be our nightly entertainment!"

Hermione looked as if she was trying very hard not to whip out her wand and hex Charlie into oblivion. Her hands curled at her sides while her shoulders tensed considerably.

"You're vile, you know that, and cruel. It's no wonder that you're twenty-seven and still single!"

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs, disappearing into the blackness. Charlie was left framed in the kitchen light. His stomach bubbled sickly for she had dealt him a low blow, one that rocked against his senses and made him wish he never met her.

She didn't know how Charlie felt, being unable to find a girl he could call his own, his life-long companion, someone he could love dutifully before staking out a family between them. She didn't know how much it bothered him to see Bill and Fleur immensely happy that they had found one another while Ginny and Harry were close behind. She didn't know how much it bothered Charlie that he had come to terms recently that maybe there wasn't anyone out there for him. Reality was a harsh undertaking, it dealing out blesses and curses like a hammer charmed under a Love potion.

He took hold of his wand and repaired the teacup before setting it back in the sink. He no longer wanted to brood in his own thoughts for his dislike of Hermione had rooted inside him. He took up into his room where he ripped off his stained shirt and threw it against his wardrobe. It fell to a ragged bundle on the floor.

After stripping down to his boxer shorts, his climbed atop his sheets, it being too warm to crawl under them, and laid back on his hands, it acting like a pillow to his head. He stretched out his legs as he thought about he and Hermione's confrontation.

Never before had he been so incensed with any witch, even those that dismissed his charms as they noticed he wasn't playing for keeps. No, Hermione had managed to add a pouch full of coals to his raging blaze whilst radiating sparks of her own.

The only plausible notion Charlie could come up with to avoid another quarrel was to keep away from her at all costs. Not that that would be too difficult really. He noticed that she spent a lot of her time at the Burrow. Tomorrow, then, he would take a trip to Diagon Alley and stay there the whole day. Perhaps he'd snag a witch and get in a good shag. He hadn't had one in a long time. His length twitched at the thought. There was the bird who worked at Flourish and Blotts. How he had wished to balls deep in her. So much so that he had had a wet dream several nights ago because of it, something he hadn't had since he was a teenager.

As he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come, he wondered, Why does it bother me to think of Ron and Hermione snogging?

A/N: Please leave a review with your thoughts!