The weekend had finally come around and Hermione Granger found herself at the magnificent Weasley estate for the Royal Irish Tea Ceremony. Ginny had invited her over the previous afternoon and since she needed a break from the growing pile of schoolwork, she gladly accepted.

Hermione had never attended a tea ceremony before, in fact, she hadn't had the opportunity to attend much of anything as a child. This was mainly due to the fact that Romania had severed many of its ties with the rest of Europe after the Battle of Heizenburgh in which her great grandfather had allied with the Ottoman Empire.

Ginny had been completely gob smacked when she mentioned it earlier and insisted that they go on a shopping spree and pick out something classy for her "depute as Europe's newest socialite."

They visited about a dozen or so magnificent Scottish boutiques where Ginny had convinced her to take home a sexy floor length crimson dress with a slim waistline and elegant silky drapes. It showed a little more skin than she was used to but she figured it wouldn't hurt to be just a little outrageous for one night.

As the hostess of the event Ginny had opted for a traditional lime green ball gown that had an intricate silver bead design down the left side in the shape of a five-leafed clover.

By the time the two girls had gotten back it was suppertime and Molly Weasley was busy at work in the kitchen.

"Good evening Ginny, Hermione," Welcomed the motherly voice. "Why don't you two pop your bags up in Ginny's room and then come help me in the kitchen. Bill and Fleur will be joining us and Percy and Charlie said they'd be dropping in for dessert."

"Yes Mom," Said Ginny as she led the way up the spiralled staircase to her bedroom.

"Your mom cooks?" Remarked Hermione with a tone of quizzicality. She had never known of a royal family who were required to cook their own meals, it seemed absurd, preposterous! In her own home, her mother left all the household chores to the maids and valets, never daring to lift even one of her perfect manicured fingers.

"She likes running everything herself, doesn't see why someone else should do all the work round here while she just sits on her butt all day." Replied Ginny proudly.

"Oh, I guess that makes sense." Said Hermione who was now feeling incredibly guilty. Other than the occasional batch of buttermilk cupcakes, she had never cooked a meal in her life and although she kept her room tidy, it was never she who went around dusting off all the tapestries her father kept around or making sure there wasn't dirt on any of the tiles.

Ginny's bedroom was much smaller than her own and it looked as though the girl had inherited half a village and attempted to cram it all into the small space. There was a collection of soccer player figurines arranged on a wooden windowsill, an assortment of coloured glass bottles on an old shelf, a dozen rugs layered haphazardly across the floor, a pile of sporting magazine scattered on a desk, a large statue of a leprechaun in one corner and a queen-sized bed in the other.

"Sorry it's a little messy," Said Ginny as she cleared a bunch of music books from her bed and placed them carefully into the draw of her bedside table. "Just place your things down over there." She said and pointed to the only empty bit of space in the room beside a rack of soccer balls.

Hermione smiled at the girl as she dumped her things. "My room is usually twice as messy as this," She lied.

In actual fact Hermione was borderline on having a cleaning disorder. Even as a child she had organized all her teddy bears alphabetically in order of shape, height and fluffiness. She colour coded her wardrobe at age 10, sectioned off the castle into productively efficient sectors at age 13 and sold off a drove of Romania's finest stallions at the age of 14 after concluding that the brown spots were just too randomized to be considered classifiable.

"What instrument do you play?" Asked Hermione, skilfully changing the topic

"The flute" Replied Ginny happily, "But I haven't practiced in a while, my elder brother Bill used to teach me but he's in Egypt working for Gringotts Bank."

"It's the same with me, my mom used to teach me piano when I was younger but now she's always away on business trips, I hardly ever see her."

Ginny eyed her sympathetically, " I wouldn't know what to do without my mom, she basically does everything for us. Even sorts through Fred and Georges underwear!"

They both cracked into a fit of laughter before settling into a comfortable silence as Hermione began to unpack her things and Ginny submerged herself in the latest sporting magazine.

"Ginerva Weasley!" Shouted an angry voice from the kitchen, "Get down here right this instant and help me cut the carrots."

The look on Ginny's face was that of quaking horror, "I completely forgot!" She exclaimed as she threw her magazine down beside her and raced out the door and down to the kitchen.

Hermione was left in a daze at Ginny's abrupt departure and after carefully slipping the crimson dress into her bag, she descended the spiral staircase to the kitchen.

The kitchen was in an even worse condition than Ginny's bedroom. The whole countertop was covered in a thick coat of flower and pots and pans boiled out of control as a frantic Molly Weasley raced to salvage their contents.

Ginny was hurriedly skinning carrots while overseeing a pot of soup boil and Ron was attempting to clean up the garden vegetables by wildly shaking the dirt off of them as opposed to simply cutting the ends off. But that was nothing compared to what the culprit mess makers Fred and George had conjured up, the two had dumped handfuls of flower into Ron's hair behind his back, turned up the heat on different pots every time Molly looked away, and added mysterious powders to the different mixtures that had been left out to cool.

"Hermione, thank god you're here!" Shouted Molly over the whistling pots, "Would you mind helping Fred and George out with the shepherd's pie?"

"Uhm sure," She replied nervously, noticing the huge grins that formed on the twin's faces as they dropped some mysterious items into what she guessed was the shepherds pie.


Dinner with the Weasley turned out to be quiet an affair compared to the silent meals she was accustomed to at home.

The table was bustling with chatter as Bill told Fred and George a story of how he'd convinced an American couple that he was an Egyptian prince. Ginny, Fleur and Molly were in a heated debate about the flower festival held in spring and which florist had the most beautiful orchids and Arthur Weasley questioned her about the customs and traditions in Romania.

He had told her that their son Charlie Weasley was currently studying dragons in Romania and was apparently having a ball.

Charlie Weasley, yes she definitely recognized that name, he was the youngest person in centuries to be accepted into the Dragonology program, pretty much a celebrity back in Romania and her father had often invited him over for dinner where they furiously discussed Romania's future with Dragons and possible funding schemes to kick-start cures for serious burns and Dragon pox.

"I used to have a pet Romanian Longhorn," she told Arthur "It was actually rather cute until it destroyed one of the towers and came close to eating the poor fisherman."

"Can Fred and I have a dragon?" Asked George faking puppy eyes.

"Absolutely not!" Replied the stern voice of Molly Weasley almost instantaneously.

"But how come you let Charlie get one?" Piped in Fred.

"Yeah how's that fair? It's not like we're irresponsible"

"Look at how Ron treated Scabbers."

"Scabbers died on his own" Retorted Ron.

"He was fine when George and I had him, twelve years I tell ya"

Rons face went bright pink.

"Dad can we please get a dragon?" Pleaded Ginny, "I'm sure Charlie could send us a baby one from Romania and it'll be just like having a puppy."

Mr Weasley looked into the pleading eyes of his four youngest and could simply not resist. " Well okay then, I'm sure we can train it to protect the crops from all those pesky crows."

Fred and George high-fived each other.

"Arthur Weasley!" Screamed a fuming Molly.

It was in that instant that a loud knock was heard from the front door, and Molly Weasley took a moment to compose herself before walking enthusiastically out the dining room. "That'll be Percy and Charlie." She announced in an excited voice.

A moment later she returned and two red headed men trailed behind her. Hermione's eyes immediately drifted to the burly figure that was Charlie Weasley. He seemed to recognise her too and his sparkling blue eyes lit up as he greeted her.

"Good evening Princess," Said Charlie, his voice deep and husky. "I suppose you're here for the Tea Ceremony."

It took her a moment to catch her breath. "Yep, Ginny invited me," She replied in an unusually cheerful tone.

"I take it you two know each other then?" Said Arthur Weasley as he scooped a massive chunk of Puffleberry ice cream into a bowl for Percy.

"Charlie was actually the caretaker of Dragon." Replied Hermione handing her bowl to Arthur.

"Feisty thing, that one!" Said Charlie as he plopped himself down into the seat beside her.

He smelt of the Romanian forest: wet moss, pine and a musky earthy smell she hadn't realized she missed. Everything about him reminded her of home; the black Romanian mountains, the old stone war sculptures she had for so long despised and even the relentless scolding she received from Dobby. She was desperately homesick and having the teenage heartthrob that was Charlie Weasley in close proximity was definitely not helping.

"How is it?" Asked Charlie as she scooped a spoonful of Puffleberry ice-cream into her mouth.

The results were almost instant and she felt as if her entire mouth was about to explode. Her tastebuds were completely overwhelmed and it felt as if someone had shoved a frying pan down her throat. She coughed and wheezed, scoffing down as much water as she could while the rest of the table erupted in wild hysterics.

"What was that," She asked in a hoarse voice, the burning sensation still lingering in her throat.

"The Puffleberry" Said Fred and George with wide grins. "It's supposed to make you feel as if a puffer fish exploded in your mouth. Pretty cool eh? We made it just for you."

She wanted to murder them.


Charlie had taken her on a grand voyage through Ireland, visiting all the famous icons and even dropping by to one of Irelands most renowned cattle ranches where she had milked her first ever cow.

They were now strolling through the city of Dublin, hand-in-hand, as Charlie playfully teased her about her "wild bushy locks" and she counteracted his teasing with threats to steal away his beloved dragons. To any onlookers the pair looked like an odd couple of sorts with Charlie being almost a foot taller than her and dressed in his traditional – completely ridiculous- high socks and plaited manskirt Molly had forced him into. As far as she was concerned, all he needed was a grandfather cap and bagpipes and he'd be fit to join the royal Irish marching band!

Charlie launched into another speech about the city's origins and even went as far as mentioning all the significant wars and many of the prominent figures of each era. A love and fascination of history was something they both seemed to share and she found that she could listen to him go on for days about the great kings and queens of Ireland and theorize about zombie apocalypses.

"You see that sculpture of St. Patrick," He motioned over to a large ancient bronze sculpture that looked as if it would crumble in on itself at any moment. "It was carved by one of my ancestors in the fourteenth century. Alroy Weasley, the most respected Knight of his time. It's supposed to be cursed." Declared Charlie boastfully, proud of his ancestors ventures in the dark arts.

"Cursed? Like some kind of Voodoo thing?"

He smirked back at her, "Something like that, who knows what kind of crazy shit happened back then. Anyways, people have been trying for centuries to remove all them all" He gestured to the line of statues that were equally as frail. "But no matter how hard they try they just won't budge." He made a point of it by leaning carelessly against dear old St. Patrick and to her surprise the statue stayed put.

"What's that?" She asked, pointing to a golden plaque above the statue, too high for her to read. It wasn't that she was some midget, because she wasn't, but for some reason everything in Ireland seemed to be made for giants, or giant sized people.

Charlie read the scripture aloud.

"In memory of St. Patrick who's soul was stolen by the Hecate Witch."

"Hecate witch?" She was immediately intrigued. Living in Romania she had grown up with stories of witches and wizards, they were the things of fairy tales and she had always been warned not to go anywhere near them. Witches were among the most foulest and deadliest of creatures, they cooked children for breakfast and tortured puppies! They were as ugly as toads and could never be trusted.

"It's an old myth," Said Charlie playfully "They say that she was the brightest witch of her age, cured the sick, aided the poor, more of a saint than a witch to be honest. She was St. Patrick's assistant but she supposedly went crazy in the end and murdered him before committing suicide herself."

She analyzed this new information in her head, most of it fitted in with what she had been brought up to believe about witches but there were a few parts that didn't quiet fit. She rationalized that the Hecate Witch might have done those saintly deeds in order to gain the trust of St. Patrick, but then it didn't make sense for her to kill herself after murdering him. Could she possibly have been overcome with guilt? Or maybe she fell in love with him? No that couldn't be it, witches were incapable of love.

"What are you thinking about?" Asked Charlie, interrupting her train of thought, "You've got that look on your face that says your planning to conquer the world."

She snickered at that. " It doesn't make sense, why would she kill herself after killing him? And why bother doing all that good stuff if she was just going to kill him anyways? I doubt he was under constant surveillance, even if all those people loved him, she probably could've just used one of her spells to kill him and save herself a lot of trouble. And what's with the stealing away of his soul business?"

He thought for a bit before replying, "Beats me, crazy people aren't really known for making rational decisions."

"Yeah, but that still doesn't explain why she did all the good stuff." Reasoned Hermione.

Charlie just shrugged and she took that as a cue to drop the topic, making a mental note to do more research when he got back to Hogwarts.

When they eventually returned to the Weasley estate they were met with the familiar chaos that was becoming of the Weasley family. Molly Weasley stood at the center of the large ballroom barking orders at her five sons who were arranging a set of tables.

"Charlie, hurry over here and help your brothers out will you!" Barked Molly as she inspected the lining of the table Fred and George had just dumped down.

"Yes Mom," He replied and before Hermione could process what was happening his lips were on her skin as he leaned down and kissed her cheek goodbye before jogging over to join the rest of his family.

She found herself standing there longer than appropriate stunned and blushing from the unexpected contact.

There was no question that Charlie Weasley was good looking- the fangirls back in Romania were a testament to that - and although she would never dare tell a soul, she herself had had a tinsie crush on him too. Okay maybe it was a bit more than tinsie, but it wasn't as if she had posters of him or anything, although she didn't see the harm in that.

So after creepily gazing at him a bit longer she made her way up to Ginny's room where the two got ready for the Tea Ceremony.