Disclaimer: As much as I would not mind have them, I do not own HP or any characters of the story.
Title: Dragon Tamer and the Beast
It is a true universally acknowledged that all young women's tastes in men belong to one of the two categories; they may favor men who remind them of their fathers, or they may fancy their best friends.
But wait, there is another type of women… of women who are not sated by any man of the above categories…a type of women who rather have older brothers of their best friends.
Hermione decided that she preferred to travel alone.
She knew that Ron or Harry would be more than eager to escort her to the Burrow this summer. When she thought about it, even without any future foreseeing skills, she was able to predict what would happen. Ron would probably show up first, and in gentlemanly fashion, insist on carrying her trunks. And Harry would pretend to forget something, and would stay behind to let his best male-friend to charm his best female-friend thinking that he is doing them a favor. Romantic teenage boys-- seriously, sometimes they were more infuriating than Voldemort.
And while Harry would walk behind and looked at their interactions, which he thought as of a growth of a young love—and what in fact was an annoying overgrowth of Ron's unrequited attention towards her, accompanied by an awkwardness of his slightly sweaty hands on a small of her back—Hermione, for a thousand time this year, would curse a day when her best friends realized that she, in fact, was a female.
Come to thing about it, she definitely preferred to travel alone.
Frankly, sometimes she wondered why she even agreed on joining them for this few last days of summer. Perhaps because of Ginny, or perhaps because, after all, this two silly brats were her best fiends, or perhaps because she was bored and tired of hot and dry London…Regardless of the reason, Hermione Granger, an eighteen-year-old student of Hogwards School of Magic, appeared in front of one of the messiest, but at the same time, the most cozy and homely place in the wizardly part of the world, the Burrow.
The sun shined greatly over a tall, towerish-looking crooked house and surrounding it garden. The house looked exactly like she remembered it from her visit a year before; it grew from the forest clearing like a gigantic mushroom, its open windows blew colorful patches of cotton curtains in the wind. Little bright pots, in which Molly nursed some of her favorite cooking herbs, stood proudly on the window sills looking like exotic summer birds.
Colors seemed slightly washed out by the sun. The garden was empty, and the air was filled with steady buzz of summer bees; little fragile flies seemed to levitate over the small field of wild flowers. No other sound disrupted the hot summer day as the heat cradled slowly on her face and the sunrays tingled her skin.
Where is everyone? She looked around hoping to spot a familiar freckled face of Ginny or Ron. As Hermione walked through the garden, flowers turned their heads towards her, irritated with sudden disruption of their afternoon rest; some of them looked at her with discontent, shaking their subtle bodies from the little flies. Others silently stared at her, unsure how to react to her presence in the Burrow. But all of them, eventually, turned their faces back to the sun, ignoring the newcomer. Then, she noticed, their content smiles returned on their little faces, and the flowers stretched their slender necks towards the sun; their faces reminded her of smiles of sated lions somehow more than of summer plants, leaving Hermione in a state of a pure surprise. Those plants seem to be more moody than roots of mandragora, she mused entering the house.
"Ron?" She called, but the house answered her with silence. "Mrs. Weasly, Ginny?" The house, offering some coolness and shielding form the sun, was quiet and calm. She stood for a moment at the entrance, adjusting her eyes to the warm colors of Molly's kitchen. It looked like the family left the house in a hurry, leaving leftovers of their breakfast scattered around the large table. Hermione smiled looking at the pile of plates in the sink, red apples and cherries mounding up in a large basket on the wooden counter.
She stood in the kitchen doors, as if at the edge of two words, between the hot and sunny magical garden full of grumpy plants and buzzing bees, and the cool and dark kitchen, which smelled of ripe apples and grounded cinnamon. She turned around, glimpsing for the last time at the garden, and than looked again at the kitchen, should I wait outside?
The inviting coolness of the house almost kissed her skin, repelling the last reminders of the hot sun. She took a deep breath of the aromatic air. The coolness won, Hermione stepped into the quiet word of Molly's kitchen.
Here, the silence seemed to overtake the chaotic design and crazy colors of the room, making them less pronounced and somewhat distant. Observing single bright rays of light that dared to enter the cool kitchen, Hermione focused her eyes on little particles of dust that flew in the sharp patches of sun. They seemed to enter the sunrays, appearing as if from nowhere and then, danced lightly for a while, only to disappear again in silence of the kitchen.
Quietness, stillness, and silence—they overwhelmed everything right now. As if they were the most substantial features of the house, the utter and foremost elements, which managed to calm and cool the whole place down. Listening and tuning her senses to the silence, she did not notice that it became strangely rhythmical, as if measured by a constant pulse of time. Time? And it was then that she realized that the rhythm was nothing more than a soft mechanical beat, a noise that ultimately defended the nothingness of sound to which she clung for the last minutes, but that ultimately proved the steady continuum of time. Ticking…Sitting on one of the heavy kitchen chairs, she glazed around searching for the source of the sound, till her eyes rested on a gigantic grandfather clock. She stood up and came closer to the magical device, trying to read the names on its brass arms, "Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Molly…" she read aloud, and flinched as her voice entered the almost perfect calmness of the house, all of them left for shopping? Even Mr. Weasley's name was pointed towards the spot on the face of the clock that read proudly "Daigon Alley."
She gasped in disappointment, but then, her eyes turned to other names on the clock; she smiled reading her own name. There was also Harry's name, written in the lovely cursive, and, of course, pointing to the good old Diagon Alley. With her neck stretched out toward the face of the magical clock, she kept scrutinizing it, finding a pleasure in keeping track of every member of the Weasley's clan. Bill and Fleur were in Egypt, and Charlie…wait a minute…Charlie's clock-arm pointed towards the small icon titled 'Home.'
In this minute, she realized that something changed. It was hard to capture immediately, but the silence, or perhaps the calmness suddenly disappeared, impacting the ambience of the kitchen, and transferring it into place that was suddenly wormer and more alive. Before she was able to capture the nature of the change, she heard ironic voice, "Well, well, well, if it is not our little Miss Granger."
She turned around quickly, surprised with the voice, which she did not recognize, and with the evident irony of its words.
"Excuse me?" She tuned herself into her best all-it-know role, a part she played so often for almost all students and teachers at Hogwads; her head held high and her eyes pointed straight at the newcomer, who, currently, stood in the kitchen's doorways. The doors were still widely opened to the colorful garden, which, offered a spectacularly sunny background to the dark figure of the man. He leaned against the doorframe, tall and domineering, as if protecting the house from an excess of sunlight and heat.
"And who are you?" Hermione stood her ground, but as she thought about the grand clock and the impertinent figure standing there, her eyes narrowed slightly. Charlie.
The evil brother of Ron, according to Ron, that is.
The main protagonist and hero of the most devious prank-stories told by Fred and George.
The boy, whom she met only once during her first visit at the Burrow when she was fourteen, and who, during their first meeting, decided that she was way too boring for his fancy so turned her Hogwards: The History into a finger-biting and fire-breathing giant rubber duck. He just graduated from school, showing off his magical skills and privileges granted by his new and fresh magical license.
A dragon tamer, who stood right there, in Molly's kitchen mocking Hermione Granger.
And Hermione Granger did not like to be mocked.
Yes, Ron was right, Hermione narrowed her eyes, Charlie was most likely one of the purely evil Weaslies.
But not to worry, because she, Hermione Granger, was one of the most sneaky and evil Head Girls Hogwards ever schooled. And schooled she was well.
Hermione arranged her face in an innocent smile.
She looked at him carefully, as if having problems with recognizing his face, and after a mere minute she chipped happily, "Oh, Percy, how nice to see you again!" she smiled noting a small frown on Charlie's face, and continued, "It has been a while, Percy, but I must say, you have not changed a bit!"
Charlie's throat constricted in shock and rage at the bushy-haired and obviously quite blind witch. How could she mistaken him, the wild genius of taming ancient dragon magic, the most open and crazy-minded of the Weasly's clan, and danger-driven devourer of life and freedom, with this stiff, clean-shaved and box-minded shoe-licker, Percy?
The young men shrugged, and, trying to regain his composure, folded his arms on his chest. "You must be mistaken, Miss Granger-", he decided to give her some witty and biting response, but the little witch only waved her hand silencing him, "Oh, Percy," her smile grew even wider and her eyes glittered with laughter, "I would recognize you everywhere. But," her facial expression shifted into slight pout, "I must admit that you changed slightly." She moved closer toward him, "You grew your hair, Percy!"
Charlie, with obvious problems, tried to school his face into mask of indifference, but irritation and surprise almost beamed from him. Right on, Hermione thought and continued her game, "But you know, you looked much more handsome with your short hair. Not to mention this funny piercing in your ear."
"What is wrong with it?" a surprised question slipped from his mouth against his intentions to keep them shut.
Hermione brought her nose to his, the mischievous smile sneaking on her lips, in spite of her best effort to control it, "Don't get me wrong, Percy, I do not mind men wearing jewelry; in fact," she brought her nose a little higher, just for a good measure, "I think that earrings on a male's body can be extremely masculine… but, you-" pausing, she stepped back for a better effect, "-look kind'a girlish with your piercing."
What? Charlie gasped with an outrage, girlish?
Hermione was on a roll, "Yeah, girlish. Like a… boy."
A boy? Charlie was almost perplexed, you little…
Hermione narrowed her eyes and cooked her head to one side, as if thinking of a better word, "Yes, you almost look like, you know, Charlie."
All right, enough was enough! There are limits of how much someone can push a man, even if that someone is an absolutely blind and crazy teenage bookworm like that Granger person. He sent her a hard look, dominated by mixture of hatred and outrage that just bubbled in his chest. Trying to come up with some smart answer, his jaw almost fell as he realized that the mentioned evil witch of a woman stood staring at him with a purely evil smile plastered to her mouth, "Wait," she said sweetly as a laugher bubbled on her mouth, "You are Charlie!" Now she was laughing so hard, that she had to seek a support of the table to keep her balance.
In his outrage, he did not even notice red-haired heads picking from outside through the windows. All family, who just arrived from their shopping mission, observed Hermione's actions with lots of happiness on their faces; after all, not too often someone got Charlie like she did him now. Ron and Harry almost cried laughing in the garden, trying to keep quiet, Ginny and Molly giggled hysterically, and Fred and George only grinned evilly.
oOo
Granger. Charlie stood there looking at her trying to think of something that would restore his honor, or better yet--make her quiet. Like a permanently silencing spell or perhaps the good old Adava.
oOo
"Och, c'mon, Charlie, you know that she was only joking!" Ron spoke with his mouth full of cookies, sending piles of crumbles on a floor, "Besides, you started with her, you know."
"I started? How?" Charlie frowned.
"Well, Charlie- " Ron smiled, crumbles still on his mouth, "I have seen you, you know, Hermione doesn't like this all Miss Granger shit, she got that from Snape almost every day, you know. "
"What?" Charlie disregarded did not comprehend the second part of Ron's statement, he still processed the fact that Ron saw the whole exchange between the bookworm and him. After all, this was outrageous; not only she made fun of him, but now his cookie-crumble battered brother knew all about it. Now, I will have to bribe Ron to keep quiet, otherwise Fred and George will eat me alive, Charlie thought with frustration as he contemplated chocolate smudges around Ron's mouth.
"Well, of course, you started. Besides, did you think that Hermione let you live after you turned her book into a yellow duck?"
What? She can't be that vicious. Nobody is that vicious. Charlie looked at his brother with his eyes wide open.
"It was years ago!"
"It was her book," Ron's face became serious, "she is deadly if you do something to her books, you know."
"And she is pretty vicious. Frankly, even George and I don't dare to play tricks on her, Percy," Fred appeared, apparently from nowhere, an overgrown ironic smile on his freckled face.
Charlie put his head in his hands as the laughter of his all family came from the kitchen. Oh, Merlin…They will call me that forever now…
But then, a thought came to his mind, "So what did she do to you two?" Fred did not answer for a minute, but Ron smiled even more, "You see, they stole her time-turner and hexed it so every time she tried to go back in time to take any of her additional lessons, she ended up in Snape's office." Ron was laughing, but Fred and George remained unusually quiet. "It was pretty funny, because she tried to use it three times, and every time, she landed on Snape's desk when he was grading our homework. Of course he failed her every time. But then, she figured it out, and-"
"All right, that's enough Ronnie," Fred decided to cut off his brother from telling what was possibly their most humiliating prankster failure. Charlie grinned, "Oi, let him finish, it is getting interesting!"
"So," Ron resumed his story, "Hermione somehow jinxed Fred and George's wands into portkeys, and for two weeks, every time they tried to use any magic, they ended up transported into Snape's bedroom chambers for exactly one minute. Imagine Snape's face when he saw them in his bed!" Ron chuckled in laughter, "And, she made it so they landed exactly under his bed covers!"
Charlie finally enjoyed himself, "It had to be quite a show," he joined Ron in his hysteric laugh, "I wonder how did she called it…Perhaps," he looked at his brothers trying to regain a serious face, "Snape and the oriental red-head twin show." The laughter from the kitchen resumed, and Ron shouted, "No, we named it Snape's Infamous Dream Twins Team Act!"
"What!" George and Fred yelled as laughter coming from the kitchen reached them again, "And you, you traitor were laughing at us?"
Ron only grinned, showing them his toothy smile, "Yes!"
"Brutus!" George hissed and exchanged looks with Fred, and then, both left the porch keeping their noses high in the air, and pretending not to hear the hysteric chuckles and giggles, which flew from the kitchen and porch carried by the light summer wind.
oOo
Hermione felt silly.
They all made fun of Charlie, and she did not really meant this to happen.
Well, she did want to poke fun of that prick of the dragon-babysitter, but she wanted to keep it secret and strictly between the dragon-nanny and herself; after all, her jokes were her personal business.
She kept observing him all evening, and now, knowing that almost everyone went to sleep, she thought of creating a peace-pact with him. She waited till midnight so she could really talk to him, without the whole family listening or spying on them, which would probably occurred—since, lately, the Weasleys found Charlie's and her interactions extremely entertaining.
She observed him for a while now, as he stood next to an old bench in the middle of Molly's crazy garden. The old, weathered wood of the bench looked as if it grew from the ground, like a gigantic root or perhaps an odd plant. It was crooked and slightly curved; its clawed lags moved aside as Charlie took step closer, clearly indicated that it did not with to be sat on.
This bench was living its own independent life, and, as each plant-reminding creature in this garden, the nature and purpose of the bench was a mystery to Hermione.
She mused on the nature of the garden looking at Charlie's dark figure among shadows of the summer garden. She tilted her head and thought whether, as everything in this garden this night, Charlie too was different from what she initially thought him to be.
Was he a clumsy and insecure boy, like Ron, or perhaps a business-like, street-smart kid, similar to Fred and George? She narrowed her eyes, considering him in different roles, in grey-sleek robes of Percy and a polished look of scholarly Bill. Well, perhaps he was more like Molly or Ginny, warm and extraverted above everything and everyone…
Now, she walked towards him, slightly shy about her afternoon performance and its aftermath, courtesy of Fred and George. He did not notice her yet, and she decided that it was better this way, she did not now what to say to him yet. After all, what do you say to someone, whom you may not know at all?
"Percy?" Charlie turned his head towards her, and smiled, "Miss Ganger?"
Hermione stopped few steps from him, taking some time to consider her next words. She wanted to dress her peace offer in a ghostly veil of the night; for some reason, she did not think that an open approach would prove the best strategy to win Charlie over.
He might seem like a mixture of all Weasley's traits, a particular transition between the younger, fun and happiness-driven brothers, and the oldest sons of the family, whose ambition and striving for knowledge compelled them to perfection and precision in every step they took.
But at the same time, she noticed, he struggled to free himself from that image, to escape his family's expectations, their assuming notion that he was and will be one of them, which brought so many presumptions about what he should do with his life, how to dress, look, and behave… Yes, she was sure, against that notion exactly, that force that was trying to commit him into one and exact spot in his life, he fought; fought with all he had, escaping their claws, rebelling against their norms and hopes, but at the same time still accepting them as they were, and staying close to each of them… and at the same time, nursed the typical for the members of his family need to excel and prove himself as he decided to pursue one of the most challenging trades in the wizardly realm. Charlie, her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on all she knew of him.
Her eyes, as they adjusted to the lack of light, slowly discovered details of Charlie's figure. His long curly hair, broad shoulders, tall posture…He looked at her intently, as if readying himself for another sparring with her, eyes glistening and focused on her.
She almost felt like a prey; funny, she thought.
"So, Hermione, what is you new plan for punishing me?"
"Punishing?" the moment in which the words left her mouth, they seemed silly. She could not read expression on Charlie's face, the darkness made her feel uneasy.
"Isn't that what you were doing all along? Punishing, showing me my place in your world?"
Hermione did not like where he was going, "I wonder why you even bother to ask, it looks that you already decided which stance to take when you are around me," she kept staring in his eyes, "I do not assign position to people, neither I force them into acting in any way around me. As far as I remember, it was your patronizing 'Miss Granger' line that started this whole mess today, wasn't it?"
Now Charlie thought of backing out. Ron was right for once; this girl was way too smart for simple guilt trip strategy. "So why are you here?" He did not have any better line.
Hermione kept staring at him, and he did not like it, "I didn't know that you are a fan of a small talk, Hermione." Patronizing was his second best technique, courtesy of Molly Weasley, "Surprising to see a smart schoolgirl like yourself wasting her time on a chit-chat in middle of night, shame on you, little girl." Now he was almost sure, that had to work; no teenage girl would stand to a perfect mocking of a man. Charlie's mouth crooked in an ironic smile waiting for a blush and retrieval of his bushy-haired opponent.
"Well, well, well…" it was her time to say, "Molly and the family surely taught you well." Charlie's grin slowly disappeared as Hermione's smile grew, "Denigrate and talk all your adversaries down, and you may win…Now, are you sure you are not Percy?" She tilted her head challenging him even more.
And then, he realized, "You are fighting as dirty as I do, girl."
The girl smiled, "Hmm…I guess I am." Her smile was radiant, evident even in the darkness.
Charlie smiled back.
He kept staring, and again, she did not back down.
A strange feeling grew from the silence between them, everything else, the whole garden and world decided to cease their existence.
Even the moon disappeared, and the night slowly enveloped the two dark figures in the most secretive of its shadows.
Now, she thought.
Carefully and gently, with whole his experience as the tamer of the wildest of all beasts, Charlie lifted his hand and touched her face.
Hermione took a step closer and smiled.
A/N:
Hope you enjoyed that little fluff. It was fun to write. Since it is my first HP ff, I would really appreciate your feedback and/or reviews. Thank you for reading, cheers,
Akira