AN: You know they're not my characters.
Part of me always knew I'd end up with one of the Weasleys. The question was just which one? I knew almost everyone expected me and Ron to get together, which we did for a while, when we finished at Hogwarts. But you can love a person without being in love, and that's what the two of us had. We were too much like squabbling siblings to ever have a serious relationship. And that's nobody's fault – the two of us just aren't compatible in that way.
In fact, Mrs Weasley (Molly – should call her Molly now) was more upset about us splitting up than either Ron or I. I think she had expectations of us getting married and me becoming officially part of the Weasley family, rather than just being an honorary member. Much like Harry, who might as well change his name to Weasley and be done with it, now that he's married to Ginny.
Anyway, I did end up with a Weasley, and no, it isn't Percy. I'm actually very much in love with the quidditch-playing, dragon-taming Charlie Weasley. If you can refrain from making rude comments comparing me to a dragon, I'd appreciate it. Because then I won't have to glue you to the ceiling, like I did when Ron made a remark like that. Though I have to admit, I'd have just simply hexed anyone else – he only got stuck to the ceiling because he's Ron, and he knows exactly how to annoy me. In fact, he's an expert on the subject, and proud of it.
Now, how did I end up with Charlie, you want to know? Well, it was a bit of a mess in the Burrow, just before a wedding (pretty sure it was George and Katie's, but I still can't tell the twins apart – yes, it was definitely theirs), and we were supposed to be helping with something. We weren't. We'd done the smart thing and disappeared into the garden. As the only two people not in a relationship at the time, Molly was despairing of us, saying we both spent too much time working and so on. Rather than argue, we just disappeared.
I don't know how long we were out there, but I knew I'd finally found someone I could actually talk to, without being called a know-it-all. Yes, that name was still used far too often for my liking, even at work. I'm a Healer, and at the time I was working at St Mungo's. I hated it there, and was desperate to find somewhere else to work.
"Think you could handle burns and dragon bites?" Charlie asked me, when I complained to him about it. "There's a position available on the reserve in Romania, if you don't mind moving abroad."
What can I say, other than I jumped at the chance. Dragon bites and burns? Easier than spell damage (my current department, and the bane of my life) any day. Romania? Sounded good to me, I liked travelling. Actually, anywhere away from the rowdy mob called the Weasleys sounded good at that moment.
"Moving? To Romania? Oh no, Hermione, don't be silly, of course you can't do that."
"Mum, calm down. She'll be fine there. I'll make sure she's ok."
"It's no place for a young girl, on a dragon reserve."
"Mrs Weasley, I'm twenty-five, I'll be fine. I can look after myself."
"I know you can, but you shouldn't have to."
She argued, pleaded and tried to persuade me not to go, but I think she knew I was determined. Charlie had very strict instructions from her (and Mr Weasley) to look after me over there. Except I ended up looking after him in only my second week there.
He came stumbling into the Healer's tent, supported by another dragon keeper. I could see immediately what was wrong – his left arm had been badly burned. I reassured his colleague that I'd take care of it, and he rushed off, no doubt to help deal with the dragon responsible for this.
"Sorry to be a pain, Hermione."
"Rubbish, it's what I'm here for."
I carefully removed the tattered, charred remains of his shirt (there wasn't a great deal left of it) so that I could see the burn properly. It was, without a doubt, the worst one I'd seen so far. Still, the treatment was the same, so I got on with it, reassuring him that it would heal in time. Afterwards, I stood behind him, transfixed by the tattoo on his back – a dragon (not sure which breed) breathing fire (appropriate, given the situation at that moment).
"Do me a favour, Hermione. Don't tell mum about it."
"What, the burn?"
"No, the tattoo. She didn't let up about Bill's earring for at least a year, and that's just a little hole in his ear."
I laughed. "Your secret is safe with me."
He doesn't exactly make the best patient. I had real trouble making him stay in bed while his burn healed.
"I might stay in bed if you were in it with me, Hermione."
"Are you propositioning me, Charlie Weasley?"
"Just making a suggestion."
"Be careful – one day I may actually take you up on it."
We both laughed, but it marked the start of some serious flirting between us, though neither of us was actually brave enough to do anything about it. It seemed that the famed Gryffindor courage had deserted us.
It was about three weeks before anything actually happened; we were wandering through the reserve one evening. I'd been making an attempt to learn about the different breeds of dragon living there. I don't know who made the first move, or if we both decided at the same time. But we were clinging to each other, kissing as though our lives depended on it.
"Your tent or mine, Charlie?"
"Oh, Merlin. Don't tempt me like that, Hermione."
I almost literally dragged him to my tent, because he wasn't going to move otherwise. And no, I'm not going to tell you what happened next, because I think you can guess. The rest of the staff certainly did, because I forgot the silencing charms that night.
We haven't told the family yet – in fact, neither of us has been back to England in the six months we've been together. This is the way we want things to be for now – just between the two of us. We'll tell people when we're ready to, and not before.
Like I said, I always knew I'd end up with a Weasley. I just never expected it to be Charlie.
AN: So, what did you think of this one? It didn't turn out quite how I intended, but that's often the case. The review button is there to be clicked, people, so click it.