A shrill sound on the air. It startled Charlie and made him jolt to sit and listen. Was that sobbing? He rubbed his freckled chest to calm his rapid heartbeat and listen intently to identify the sound. It was still dark and checking his clock; it was near three in the morning to be precise. Now there was a muffled conversation between the sobs.
The door sounded to the entrance of his home and whispering took place. "Please, don't run," a man breathed.
"Leave me alone, Harry. It was only a dream," a feminine voice replied, and the bathroom door snapped shut.
"Is she alright?" another man, likely his brother.
There was silence, and then Harry hemmed. "Well, she sometimes gets them from what she told Ginny. She'll cry it out and go back to bed. Let's talk outside," he murmured, and footsteps receded down the hallway.
The front door creaked and then silence. Charlie had enough. He climbed from his sheets and slipped on a pair of boxers before leaving the room. The trailer was quiet aside from the stifled sounds in the bathroom. His knuckles grazed the door as he announced himself. "Book girl, are you alright?" he murmured, sleep thick in his voice.
Her crying was more audible as he heard her try to clear her nose and throat. "Yes, Charles. I just had a nightmare," her voice was more of a croaking than talking.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
The door crept open, and he saw her blotchy face in the artificial light. "I'm sorry to have woken you up," she murmured, attempting a smile. "I'll just be going," Hermione murmured, making an effort to motion retreat.
Charlie pressed open the door and made her walk backward as he entered. "Wait, just hold on," he declared with a frown. "You can't just leave when I don't know if you're okay."
Her bottom lip quivered as fresh tears left her blood-shot eyes. "Please, don't ask me. Everyone always does, and it's too hard to talk about after," she blubbered as her fingers ran against her shoulders.
Hermione looked as if she was protecting herself. It was a posture he felt disturbed to see. "Then we won't talk about why. I just want to make sure you're alright."
"I'm not," she whimpered, falling to her knees and sobbing outright.
Charlie collapsed in front of her and started to run his hands delicately over her shoulders and back. Anything to get the woman to stop shaking and crying. Hermione was near spasms at this point, and his fingers attempted to pry her hands away from her face. "Hermione, listen. You're safe, alright? If you need to sleep in my room so you don't feel so frightened I would gladly give it to you." He offered with a gentle, soothing tone.
"I'm pathetic," she whined, finally meeting his eyes.
"You're not pathetic. I don't know what happened, but we can attempt to cure some of its onset," Charlie responded, running a thumb over her cheek. "I can't stand to see a pretty girl cry."
She snorted; rather unattractive considering her nose was leaking and her lips were red from weeping. "I'm not pretty, Charles."
"Unless you shag women, you wouldn't know what is attractive to men," he retorted with a curve to his lips.
She laughed a bit and huffed at her runny nose, reaching for some toilet paper. "You should have been a comedian," she said before blowing her nose.
"You want some tea? Some biscuits? Maybe a back rub?" He offered with a charming smile.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, and her lips pouted. "Why are you being so nice?"
"I'm missing my scout's badge for helping a damsel in distress," he teased, resting against the tub ledge.
"I'm sorry to have invaded on your privacy," she grumbled, sitting flat on the ground near him.
He waved it off before scratching his chest hair. "It isn't like you aren't family. My sister sees you as a sister by proxy," he mumbled, relaxing his legs out in front of him.
He took up the span of the room, which Hermione noted. "I think it's probably best if I go back outside," she responded, wiping her eyes.
Charlie observed her state a bit more before smiling. "You can sleep in my bed. I'll go shack up on the hammock." He announced with a nod.
"Don't be ridiculous, Charles," she grumbled with a roll of her eyes. "You will get eaten alive by mosquitos, and I'm stable."
"You want to watch a film with me?" he inquired with a tilt of his head.
"A film this late?" she retorted with a considerable scowl.
He rocked his head and sighed. "I won't get back to sleep otherwise. You had my blood pumping," he said, knowing he was slightly manipulative.
Hermione shifted her position and hemmed. "I don't know," she began.
"If you don't, I'm going to go sleep outside and make you sleep on the sofa bed," Bill's voice broke their bubble. "Charlie won't fuck with you, I'll be here in the other room as well," he reminded her as he stood at the opened bathroom door.
Hermione sighed and nodded. "Alright, but only because I know you won't let me leave this building, William," she grumbled as she climbed off the floor.
Charlie yanked himself off the ground, and Bill gave him a small nod before walking away. "Try to get some sleep, Hermione," Bill ordered and soon the squeak and heave of the couch bed was heard.
"It takes a village," Charlie teased and tilted his head. "Be kind, my room is straightforward," he announced as they left the restroom.
When he opened the door at the end of the hallway, Hermione felt underdressed. Her large school t-shirt and pajama bottoms were not something she planned on wearing on such an adventure. Charlie snapped on the light as the door shut behind them and he reached for a drawer on his dresser. That gave Hermione time to examine the room.
It was quaint, with drawings and pictures littering the walls. Charlie's bed took up quite a bit of the room, but his shelves had books of all sorts. Books about dinosaurs, volumes on dig sites and even a few unlabeled books. The maroon blankets were disheveled and underneath revealed striped gold sheets.
"I told you, be kind," he announced as he threw on a t-shirt and sweats.
She shrugged her shoulders as her lips curled. "It's nice, Charles. Nothing horrible," she affirmed.
He splayed a hand out to the bed. "Ladies first."
Hermione rolled her eyes and ambled on the bed, being sure to not crawl into his sheets. Charlie pinched his lips and bit back a retort about him not wanking off on them, but felt it was crude and unreasonable considering. The woman sat on the bed, back against the headboard as her knees tucked against her chest. The redhead pulled out a drawer below the bed, yanking out a fluffy throw. He tossed her the massive blanket before turning the telly on and flicking off the lights.
When Charlie flopped on the bed, he flicked through the menu and turned on a movie he had in the player. Hermione had wrestled herself into a comfortable wrapping of the blanket as he snuggled into the sheets. The film was about a dragon.
"Thank you, Charlie," she murmured, not looking over at the lounging man.
"You're most welcome, Hermione. Not every day I get to be the hero," he replied as he stretched out.
They had watched the film together, and soon Hermione was resting in a more relaxed state. She enjoyed the bantering between the knight and the dragon and soon realized two things about the Weasley next to her.
The first was that he was a man who loved scales, through and through. Dragon or dinosaurs. The second was that he desperately wanted to be a knight. A nobleman of legendary qualities to stand for that which was right and just. The last thing she remembered was watching a man speak about some code of honor. Charlie was murmuring the dialogue with it…
Charlie grumbled as his alarm went off and yawned. He felt the presence of someone else next to him and fingers loosely in his lengthy hair. When he peered out of his heavy lids, he noted Hermione's form pressed against his own. The woman had maneuvered into the sheets sometime in the morning and was curled to him. It was as if she was hiding from the world as he head was tucked lazily down, with her fingers twirled in his hair.
He gingerly reached over and turned the buzzing sound off, but the woman didn't stir from her slumber. It took him a minute to untangle her hands, but when he did, he crawled from the bed. He pressed the pillows that were vacant where he was so she wouldn't wake up. Hermione murmured and tucked into the fake pillowed person, evolving a sleepy smile on his lips. Charlie padded from the bedroom with stealth and dipped into the bathroom quickly. He fixed his wild hair into a tie, emptied his bladder and went from the empty trailer with both speed and silence.
Only then did he let out a large breath and groan. He was going to be tired today, but at least she was alright. The redhead nabbed his boots from near the steps and slipped them on before walking around the building. His body felt sluggish. What he wouldn't give for a cuppa.
"Good morning, brother. I trust you slept," Bill announced as the camp came into view.
Harry, Ron, and Bill were sitting around a fire with cups in hand. "Good morning, brothers," Charlie responded as he slumped on the log next to Harry. "I could have used more, but it is give and take."
"So," Harry murmured, handing Charlie a cup. "We think what you did was fantastic," Harry continued.
Charlie sipped the liquid and grimaced at the bitter textures of coffee. "But?"
"No but," Bill clarified. "That's the first time she let anyone help her since Fred's funeral. We don't know why, but none of us are going to complain."
"I have a but, this is bloody mental. If she's that bad, she should be getting help. Medicine or a bloody psych eval," Ron growled as he glared over at Harry.
"I'm not a therapist, but I do believe that all qualms can be released with a bit of digging," Charlie mused with a shrug of his shoulders.
Ginny jolted from the tent and nearly sprinted around the trailer, which made Harry cringe. "I was afraid of this," he sighed. "She had been complaining about her stomach last night. I knew it was only a matter of time before it set in."
"You ever going to settle down for some, Ronnie?" Charlie snickered with a smirk over his cup.
Ron grimaced and waved at him. "That's so much work. Shame I'm not a poof like you," he sniggered which earned him a glower in response.
"I'm no poof," Charlie responded.
"I don't know, Charlie. You live alone. You surround yourself by bones and dirty men. It's only a matter of time before you say you prefer them to tarts," Ron said with a wild grin.
"Never love anybody who treats you like you're ordinary," Charlie declared before sipping his cup again.
Ron grimaced and waved at him. "Ballocks," he responded.
"Oscar Wilde," A soft voice entered the area.
The men all glanced towards the source and saw Hermione standing there. "Yes," Charlie responded.
Hermione's cheeks were rosy, but she cleared her throat. "Harry, Gin might need your help," she murmured, running fingers through her tresses.
The Potter set down his cup before standing. "Alright. Sit down and get some coffee. We'll have breakfast up shortly."
Hermione walked gently over the gravel and Charlie moved so she could sit on the log closest to her. She bobbed her head as she sat down and crumbled her body in a hug. "I'm sorry about last night," she said as Harry wandered off.
Ron grimaced and sighed. "Hermione, we love you, but you need help," he responded.
Bill shoved him and shook his head. "Don't listen to the dunderhead over here. We know you are getting it. Dr. Fienze is good for you still, right?"
Charlie sipped his cup in silence but arched an eyebrow. "I would rather not talk about this now," Hermione grumbled, making an effort not to look at Charlie.
"How about this," Charlie started with a shift of his posture. "You drink this swill that my brothers think is delicious. We eat some breakfast, and then we walk down to the dig. Things always make more sense with a bit of dirt," He said as he handed her his cup.
Hermione's eyes traced his face a moment as her eyebrows twitched. It was as if he was an alien from a different world in comparison to his family. Why? What was his whole understanding of boundaries and where they were? Was it a natural reaction to cast things that were stressful aside?
He must have seen her befuddlement because he rubbed her shoulder and stood up. "Now, let me go check on the merry Potters, and we will have some food." He murmured before standing up.
Hermione's gaze shadowed him as he walked around and then disappearing behind the corner of the trailer. "So, Charlie got you to settle down then?" Ron asked, causing Hermione to snap her vision toward him.
"We watched a film, and I fell asleep," her voice was uncertain.
Bill wiped his face as a groan released from his lips. "Ron, leave her alone. This isn't about you."
"What's he got that I don't?" Ron countered as he held his chin up.
"For one, he didn't pressure me to stop crying or talk about it," Hermione retorted as her eyes squinted.
"Not everyone is fucking perfect, Hermione! I only want you to trust me. You can't even do that," Ron snarled as his ears grew crimson.
Hermione stood up, her teeth showing with clenched tension. "You know why Fred was the only one I told about it? You were too busy telling me how much you wished you could change me and change what happened instead of offering a bridge for me to cross over to heal. He made me laugh and let me throw things at walls. Fred let me break things and toss them in the bin instead of trying to glue them back together and say it still looked new. Let me be bloody broken every once and a while!" She screamed before striding toward the lake.
Indigo eyes followed her form, and a heart was churning for the woman. Whatever she went through, he apparently missed out on in letters. His own trespasses set aside, his brother seemed to have been the only one she trusted. Charlie stopped his spying out the small window and sunk to the sofa bed with his mouth fixed. No one should ever have to feel those things. He was blind by his own pain and grief to even bear that maybe his brothers didn't share as much as he thought. An ill feeling of failure again surfaced, and he smothered the grim explosion with quick succession.
"Don't mind him, Charlie. Ron had always wanted her to be different, this was just a good excuse, and he latched onto it when Fred passed on," Harry's voice rolled into the small sitting room.
Charlie removed his hands and took in the empathetic man who walked into the kitchen. "Why, Harry? Why didn't anyone tell me I should have kicked him in the arse for his behavior? That is true suffering she has undergone."
"Because she had always been the strong one. She held us together in school. I was bullied for my parents' infamous murder, him being badgered for your heritage and lack of money… if it weren't for her showing us to stand in our own light, we would have been out of sorts. Hermione was always the brilliant one. The witted mind to quell our doubts and empathetic to our dispositions. When we didn't protect her, we failed her."
Charlie's eyebrows knitted as his nose scrunched. "That didn't answer my question."
Harry was fixing tea while he stood in silence. His contemplation was only registered by the shifting of his shoulders and feet. "Because she never wanted to admit that we caused it, Charlie. We caused her to be singled out and targeted. We brought her parents' marriage into the light of bigots and helped ostracize her. If she weren't the person to stand up against them, they would have never done it. Never dreamt of it. Ron feels just as guilty for it as I do, which is why she will let neither of us help her. "
"Then why Fred? What did he do?"
He turned to the redhead with a small curve to his lips. "He treated her like a normal human being. Something we all lacked in the moments that followed such an incident. Instead of fragility, he offered her laughter."
Harry finished with making the tea as Charlie thought. It was as if he was reading the story on pages in front of him. How does a story end with such a sour note?
"Don't think on it too hard. I'm hopeful that your lack of participation might be just what she needs," Harry murmured before walking down the hallway to the bathroom. "Love, Charlie had some ginger tea, would you like to try a sip?" he asked as the gangly man entered the bathroom.
Charlie listened to them murmuring back and forth. Sharing pitiful laughter and words of love. Despite her ruined state, he tended to her with hope and happiness. The Weasley could appreciate that and motioned approval as he stood up and paced into his bedroom. He was going to make it a point to show the curly-haired woman how to experience something new today. That was the only thing that mattered; even surmounting his desire to find the nest. It just was a driven force pushing him to this point.
Author Notes: Don't worry my dear Potterheads. The adventure is only about to begin. Hold on and enjoy the ride because I am forewarning you, it's about to get reasonably fun.