Chapter Eleven

The Calm Before the Storm

"Four whole vials and you still haven't done it? Merlin, Hermione, just break out the emergency potion and get it over with."

Hermione turned to glare at her friend, but in doing so lost complete control of the flashing "Happy Birthday, Charlie!" banner she'd been trying to suspend from the ceiling with a modified sticking charm. She quickly corrected the damage her loss in concentration—or maybe it was the new wand—had caused and finished affixing the sign to its appropriate place before turning to face Tonks. The other witch was lounged on the couch crafting napkins into miniature dragons, but kept having trouble with them flying off before she could charm them to stay put.

"How did the topic suddenly change from your check-up to this?" Hermione huffed. "Besides, how would you feel if you suddenly were extremely attracted to, say, Charlie, and you wanted nothing more than to shag him into oblivion?"

"Like I had changed bodies with you?"

Hermione threw a handful of Liquorice Wands at her. "You know what I mean. I would much rather we did this based on sheer force of will than some magically-induced artificial attraction."

"Speaking of Charlie, how did your date go last night?"

"It wasn't a date," said Hermione, rolling her eyes, but smiling in spite of herself. "We just had dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. With Fred, George, Harry, Ron and Luna," she emphasized.

"What I wouldn't give for an order of fish and chips right now," said Tonks with a dreamy expression. She swatted at the Norwegian Ridgeback that was blowing little fire-shaped chunks of napkin in her face. "And?"

"And nothing. We ate, we chatted, we went home."

"Alone?"

"Alone. Well, with Harry, obviously." At Tonks's raised eyebrow, Hermione added, "And yes, last night was vial number four. Merlin, Tonks, if I didn't already know all too well that you and Remus shag like rabbits, I'd think you were seriously deprived in that arena of your life."

"Shag like rabbits…I've never described it quite like that. Your words, no doubt, Nymphadora?"

Hermione felt her face grow hot as she looked up to see Remus standing at the end of the hall with a raised eyebrow and a crooked grin. She'd nearly forgotten that he was in the flat; she wasn't usually there on Saturdays. It wasn't that she doubted the two discussed these things in her absence, but to have her former Professor hear her talking about his sex life in such blunt terms, especially when she already knew that Harry had been discussing hers with the man….

Tonks tilted her head back so she could see him, a wide smile spreading across her face. "You know what I call it."

He bent down and kissed her, lingering a moment before saying, "That I do."

"Okay, enough!" said Hermione, one hand over her eyes. "I can honestly say that, even though I'm sure Tonks will tell me in time, I do not want to know."

They both laughed, but Remus at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he avoided direct eye contact. Instead, he came around to the other side of the couch and scooped up the remaining napkins. A Hungarian Horntail nipped at his fingertips, but he didn't even flinch as he waved his wand and said, "Sedo." Immediately, the dragon-napkin settled into his palm.

"Now," he said, carefully placing the now calm creatures on the nearby table, "I think it's time you rested for a bit. It's likely to be a long evening."

Tonks looked like she wanted to protest, but as soon as she opened her mouth, a wide yawn overtook her features.

"Don't even think about arguing, Nymphadora," said Remus, pulling her to her feet.

"I'll go back to bed if you'll join me there," she said with a sly grin, winking at Hermione over his shoulder.

"Perhaps after I've had a chance to catch up with Hermione," he said, still smiling softly.

They exchanged one last kiss, lingering far longer than was comfortable to witness, and then Tonks waltzed back to her room with a little extra sway of her hips. Remus shook his head, chuckling a little. When he turned back to Hermione, however, he looked a little sheepish.

"I apologize," he said. "Sometimes her bad influence is too much for even me to resist. And with everything that's going on, well, it's hard not to take advantage of all the time we have together, even at the expense of our guests' embarrassment."

She wasn't quite sure how to answer that. Yes, it was awkward to even think about her former professor's bedroom activities—even harder knowing exactly how much he was involved with hers—but she certainly couldn't begrudge him the comforts of a normal, healthy relationship. If anyone deserved it, those two did.

"Don't worry about it, Remus," she said finally. "I think whatever propriety we had regarding our sexual activity was gone the day the Ministry issued its first proclamation governing who we can and can't be involved with romantically."

He nodded. "And as much as I'd like to reassure you that it's going to get better anytime soon, I really can't. We're doing all we can—trying to influence those open to suggestion, rigging votes, anything—but the ripple effect just hasn't been enough." He sank heavily onto the couch, absently playing with one of the party hats stacked on the coffee table. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to warn you about the changes to the Registration Proclamation."

"You shouldn't be sorry," she said, sitting down next to him. "It's not your responsibility to look after us unwanted members of society. Not that I'm not grateful for any edge I can get, but you really shouldn't feel discouraged over such a tiny thing." At his raised eyebrow, she flushed. "Well, okay, not exactly small. But it's not as if they had decided to snap my wand already."

"That's true, I suppose," said Remus with a sigh, "but I just wanted you to know that we are doing all we can, even if you may not be seeing any changes yet. It's going to take something…momentous to shake us from this political stupor Bertrau has fostered."

Hermione grabbed a stray liquorice wand from where it had landed on the couch and offered it to him. "But at least we're here to celebrate the simple things. Or most of us are, anyway."

"That we are," he agreed, taking the candy and biting off one end. "Are we nearly ready for the party? I think Charlie's supposed to be home in an hour."

"Molly and Luna are cooking everything at the Burrow. I suggested they do it here, but Molly insisted the smells might make Tonks ill. I think she was just afraid I might try and help."

Remus laughed. "Well, you did burn the roast on Sunday."

"That was once!" Hermione huffed, indignant. "If you think my cooking is so bleeding awful, then perhaps you should find someone else to make sure your unborn child is receiving his proper nutrition."

"No, I think you're doing just fine, Hermione," he choked out through his laughter. "But Molly is a much more particular cook than most. I believe her kitchen has a zero tolerance for burned roasts."

"Or cracked teapots," she said with a giggle, suddenly remembering the incident with Aunt Muriel's treasured heirloom. "They should be here pretty soon with the food. Besides, Charlie already knows about the party."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "No secrets between lovers, eh?"

"Remus!"

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist the temptation to take the micky. I declare temporary insanity under my partner's deplorable influence."

"I, unlike your partner, have a sense of dignity when it comes to private pursuits, thank you," she said haughtily, but smiled all the same. "And if you must know, Fred is the one who let it slip. And Charlie and I aren't sleeping together. Luna says the test would know the difference between him and Harry."

Remus's expression sobered immediately. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't intend—"

She put a hand on his arm. "It's all right, really. Charlie and I—it's very complicated."

Before he could comment, a rather large owl flew in through the window they'd left cracked. It landed on the table in front of Remus, lifting its leg for him. Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"Prophet," he said as he paid the owl and sent it on its way. He unrolled the parchment. "The Saturday edition has the real news, though most don't realize it. A lot is hidden amongst the recipes and society news."

She raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

He skimmed for a few seconds before tilting the page toward her. "Here. There's been a massive recall of Calming Draughts produced by Malvin's Medicines."

Hermione took the paper from him and read through the article. It actually wasn't long enough to be considered a true article—more of a notation, really—and it was squeezed in between a review of Celestina Warbeck's latest London show and list of handy winter fashion tips (wool cloaks were in, leather ones out), just like Remus had indicated. Still, she didn't quite understand the significance, and she said so.

"It's not the potions themselves that are important so much as the ingredients," Remus said, laying the paper on the table so that he could give her his full attention. "It's the embargos, you see? Expensive components lead to recipe changes, substitutions…."

"Substitutions lead to substandard products," she said, nodding as she caught onto his meaning. "Which leads to recalls, not to mention the injuries that could be caused by that sort of thing being ineffective."

"Today it's Calming Draughts, tomorrow maybe Blood Replenishing Potions. It's only a matter of time before the Ministry has a pandemic on its hands. One small pebble that causes a tidal wave."

Hermione leaned back into the plush couch cushions, letting the gravity of what he was saying really sink into her head. Didn't the Minister see what was happening? How all these proclamations and regulations were eventually going to lead to destruction of the world they knew? For that matter, didn't the general population see it? Why were they allowing themselves to take comfort in such ridiculousness? Sure, it was structure, but she was sure Voldemort would have brought structure of a kind, had he come into true power. Then again, the world had been too scared to rise up against him as well. She sighed heavily.

Luckily, partygoers began showing up only minutes later, and that served to lift the mood that had begun to settle in the room. Molly was first, Luna only a moment behind her and supporting a far-too-large cake with a hovering charm. Ron was next, in his work robes—"Last minute negotiations," he explained—and then Harry, Fred and George, and plenty of other friends and family poured in. Pretty soon the flat was more lively than she had ever seen it, but Hermione felt tense, uneasy, and she wasn't exactly sure why.

Tonks reappeared for her guests newly clad in thin, flowing robes that showed off her new curves while still being elegant. She tripped on the hem at least three times before Remus gave her his stern face, and she sat on the couch.

"The place looks lovely," said Luna after she had settled the cake safely on the kitchen island. Molly was still fussing with the layout of food, but the slight, blonde witch had chosen to sit with her friends instead. She caught a stray flying napkin by the tail and calmed it with a spell. "It's nice to get together for fun instead of necessity."

"'Bout bloody time we did," agreed Tonks.

Hermione smiled but could not answer. She traced the path from the kitchen to the hallway several times before realizing that she was pacing. It was half an hour past the official start time of the party before she realized where her antsiness was coming from: where in Merlin's name was Charlie? It was ridiculous for her to worry. After all, the routine mission he was completing was supposedly tamer than Remus's daily life at the Ministry. So why did she have that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach?

The twins caught her on the hundredth revolution around the room, somewhere in the vicinity of the fireplace. Most of the group had gathered either around Tonks or in the kitchen with Molly, but they had been bouncing effortlessly between conversations.

"Why the long face?" asked George, tipping back a bottle of Charlie's favourite beer. "We were under the impression things were going better for our best girl."

"Do we need to hex someone for you?" asked Fred, sweeping his peripheral gaze over the room as if trying to be sneaky. He stopped on Harry and narrowed his eyes. "Your husband, perhaps? I thought maybe his hands were getting a bit too grope-y last night."

Hermione rolled her eyes. If anything, Harry wasn't "grope-y" enough. It seemed like every attempt they had at…that was devolving even sooner into a late night heart-to-heart than it was snogging. She loved getting to spend so much quality time with him—and she hoped that having someone in which he could confide would help him as well—so she didn't have the heart yet to point out how counterproductive it was becoming. Though he probably realized and was too noble to bring it up.

"Speaking of groping," said George, before she could answer. He nodded toward the armchair nearest the kitchen. He shook his head in disappointment. "Subtlety, little brother. Honestly. I don't know where he gets it."

"Certainly didn't learn those moves from us," Fred agreed.

Luna was sitting on the edge of Ron's knees, listening eagerly to some conversation that had Remus gesturing largely and Tonks grinning like a madwoman. Ron kept running his hands along his wife's back and torso, and then occasionally roaming to other areas just to have them swatted at. Luna hardly acknowledged the advances in any other way, which made Hermione giggle suddenly in spite of herself.

Fred and George gave her an odd look and then exchanged one of their own, this one of satisfaction.

"Well, I think our work here is done, Gred."

"Aye, I believe you're right, Forge."

Hermione barely acknowledged them as they walked off, giving her a knowing smile. She was still staring intently as her two friends cuddled—sort of—in the chair without a care in the world. She saw Harry look up at her, but she stubbornly refused to lock eyes with him. For all the carefree attitude Luna showed, Harry gave off all the intensity of her current situation, and she was already more worked up than she liked.

"Should I be jealous?" said a voice so close to her ear that she jumped, but recognizing the voice, she allowed herself a tiny smile as his arms snaked around her waist.

"Charlie W—"

He stopped her abruptly with a hand over her mouth. "Not so loud. Give me at least a minute alone with you before Mum notices I'm here."

"We aren't alone," she said softly. His lips brushed some sensitive skin behind her ear, and she shivered, leaning into him. Almost immediately, he jerked backward as if her weight was too much, and she had to catch herself from slipping. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

When she spun to face him, he had steadied himself on the mantle. He smiled in what she supposed was intended as reassurance. "I'm just a little dizzy from the floo. I didn't realize at first."

She opened her mouth to comment about how she had never seen him react that way to the travel before, and how she knew he couldn't tell her about his mission, but she suspected it was more dangerous than Remus had lead her to believe—and she wasn't going to let either of them get away with that.

And then Charlie collapsed on the floor.

For those who haven't read my bio or livejournal, I've spent the last 6 weeks with a broken wrist. Hence the extreme delay in updating. More to come VERY soon, as this is actually just the first part of what was shaping up to be a veeery long chapter. I figured you might want me to break it up so you could read some sooner (and this already exceeded my personal minimum). Also gave me a good chance to add in a very nice little cliffhanger, even though it wasn't quite like that before. I like this new version best. :-)

For those who've missed it, I've got 2 chapters up of the companion story, How to Date George Weasley. Please check that out as well.

Much love to all you wonderful readers!