For a long moment, Charlie was frozen in shock. Then came the anger. How dare Ron come to this place uninvited; and what was his mother thinking when she helped him? He shook his head to clear the red mist that was threatening to cover his vision. He fought his every instinct, knowing somehow that one hastily thrown fist would be all it took to destroy whatever chance he may ever have had with Hermione.
Luckily for him, Ginny cared far less about the consequences of her anger. "I've already told you, Ron," she snapped. "Hermione doesn't want you here. You are so pathetic. How much did you whine and beg before Mum gave in and helped you? Why don't you just go home before I kick you back there instead?"
Charlie heartily agreed with her sentiment, glad that she had spoken up. He looked over to Hermione, who had sent Ginny a sharp, quelling look. She didn't speak to Ginny, but looked down at Ron, who still knelt before her, a ring box wobbling in his shaking hands. "Oh, Ron."
The words were softly spoken, and full of enough emotion for Charlie not to want to hear anymore. He slung his broom over one shoulder and directed his comments at Ginny. "My room is his for the night, Gin. I'll be back in the morning." He couldn't get any more words out, or face the picture of the pair of them still holding hands. He took two paces away before realising that walking would not get him away fast enough, and leapt on his broom, soaring out into the night.
While Charlie knew he should not, his every instinct was screaming at him to go back, to fight Ron and claim the girl that he wanted for himself. But he would not. He knew Hermione well enough now to know that she hated violence, and would not approve of him fighting someone who could never beat him. But in leaving them to it, had he shown her that he approved of the idea of her settling for Ron? His head was spinning and he knew how unsafe it would be to fly out into the mountains while he felt like this. Not only was he distracted, he had no supplies and would not last a night out in the wilds without flaunting the rules on the use of magic. He flew around the inhabited part of the reserve in a slow circle, wondering what he should do. If he thought rationally, he had no claim on Hermione. She had needed a place to go, and someone to support her; both of which he was able to supply. That they had grown as close as they had in such a short time was no reason. Why should they not bond when she had no-one else to talk to? And being the size he was meant that women saw him as being solid and reliable, but didn't often see him as anything more than that.
He was not used to being so indecisive; all he knew was that he couldn't face being in his own home and watching the girl he wanted reconcile with her ex-boyfriend. His flight had taken him to the home of the newest hatchlings and he could not help but jump from his broom to push open the door. This was the only place where Charlie knew he would be able to calm his conflicted mind. The young dragons would be afraid of him if they could sense his distress, and he would do anything to prevent that.
And so, he ran through his mind-calming exercises before approaching the pen. It was late, but the hatchlings had only just been fed and so were bright eyed and curious. Charlie had to smile as they tumbled over one another in their eagerness to see who their visitor was. Instinctively, his throat produced the soothing noises that he had learnt, and he climbed into the pen.
"Why can't you stay like this?" he asked the nearest hatchling softly, chuckling as it responding by butting his hand with its scaly head, demanding to be petted. "What happens to make you so wary of us when you grow big?"
The young dragon cocked its head to one side, as if considering the question, but then sniffed and edged closer. It ambled straight to Charlie's left hand side, where his pocket held some small treats. As the little creature held a claw up as if asking permission, Charlie managed a chuckle. "Is that give me treats or I'll disembowel you for them?" he asked, opening the pocket and tossing a treat regardless. "That is a fantastic negotiation technique. You think I should use the same on Hermione?"
"Why should you be using anything on me?"
Her voice was faint but still made Charlie sit up so abruptly that the dragon he dislodged from beside him growled and belched a tongue of warning flame at him.
"Merlin woman! Are you trying to get me burned alive?" His words were harsh, but Charlie knew his tone was anything but. Hastily, he tossed the young dragon another treat and leaped from the pen with a speed unnatural to his size. Taking a breath in an attempt to slow the furious beating of his heart, he tried to make out where her voice had come from.
The room was dark and still, and then a darker shape moved slowly towards him, her footsteps so soft he wondered if he was going mad and seeing ghosts.
"Why did you leave, Charlie?"
The question was softly spoken, but was direct and unwavering. Hermione clearly was determined to get the answers she sought.
"I thought it was clear," he said, wondering how it was possible for his voice to sound so gruff. "Your reunion wasn't something I particularly wanted to watch. I suppose I should have offered my congratulations before I left." His tone was more bitter than he would have wished, but it was too late to bite his words back. Charlie managed to meet her gaze and winced at the hurt that shone in her large, expressive eyes.
"If you must know," Hermione snapped. "I sent him home."
"What?" Charlie could only stare at her, amazed.
"Didn't you hear him?" she demanded incredulously. "That was the worst marriage proposal ever! Who tells someone that they had to get their mother to help them? And he only said he wanted me because his time away from me has been difficult! Do you think that would be enough to convince me I wanted to take him back? You know nothing, Charles Weasley, if you think that's the kind of girl I am!"
Spinning on her heel, she marched away. A second later, Charlie was running. He grabbed her before she could reach the door, pulling her into his arms and holding her with all of his strength. "Don't think you can say all of that and then walk off before I can defend myself," he told her, with a sternness he didn't know that he possessed. He looked down at her, seeing the frightened look in her eyes, and hastily backed off. "I won't hurt you," he said, his voice switching back to its normal deep, gentle tones as the anger drained out of him as swiftly as it had arrived. Taking her hand, he led her over to one of the bales of straw that were stored in the room and sat her down beside him.
"How was I to know what you were going to do?" he asked her slowly, trying to think through his words. "I only knew one thing; I had to take myself away before I did something really stupid, like punch him." He felt her stiffen beside him and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling ruefully. "I knew that you wouldn't forgive me for starting a fight, regardless of the provocation. I'd rather you married my brother than you lost your good opinion of me."
"Why would you care what I think?" Hermione's voice was quiet, but steady. Charlie felt his ears redden and cursed his colouring.
Bracing himself, he turned to her; reasoning that she already had more than enough blackmail material, so any more couldn't harm him. "Why would I care? Hermione, you are the only woman I have ever met who captivates me so completely. I would hate to see you married to someone else, but seeing you suffer would kill me. If you want to marry Ron, I won't stand in your way; I won't risk losing you altogether."
"You haven't been listening, have you?" Her words were not condemnatory but rather almost gently amused. "I won't marry Ron, no matter who thinks I should. It was you who helped me to understand that we should not suit. You have helped me to find the strength to stand up to him, and to do what I want, not what he thinks I should want. Why should that change because he tried to make our relationship permanent? Charlie, I have sent Ron home."
The words sunk in this time, and Charlie had never been more relieved. "Really?"
She laughed softly at his shocked expression. "Of course, you idiot," she said. "I might have a lot to offer him, but I have learned that there's nothing he can offer me. How can he compare with a man who plans to give all of dragonkind a voice?"
Charlie's heart was in his throat and his eyes searched hers for truth, unblinking even though he felt the fierce heat of the blush that painted his cheeks a deep red. "Hermione, are you saying..."
Her fingers pressed against his lips, stopping him from finishing his sentence. "Right now, Charlie, I'm saying nothing. Ron has gone and I don't want to waste what is left of my time here thinking about him and his pathetic reasoning. Let's go home and have some supper, and you can explain to me just how you have come to your hare-brained conclusion that it might be possible to reason with dragons."
"That sounds pretty perfect," Charlie told her, not as disappointed as he thought he would be that she didn't want to force a confession. He knew anything she said to him right now she might come to regret when she was feeling more level headed. There was something not quite right about trying to win her on a night when she had been proposed to by another man. As much as he wanted to snatch her up in his arms and kiss her, he knew that she trusted he would not make a move unless she was ready for it. Instead, he held out a hand to help her stand, and tugged her unresisting fingers into the crook of his arm.
"It isn't a hare-brained conclusion anyway," he said, in a mock-stern tone that made her smile. "Young dragons in the reserve spend a lot of time with their carers and pick up on tone of voice, even if they don't understand the words. Watch." He led her over to the pen of hatchlings as he spoke, smiling at the little scaly faces looking up to his. "Bed time," he told them. His voice was soft, but the words were a command.
Instantly there came squeaks and growls from the hatchlings as they all fought with one another to get the best of the nesting boxes that lined the edges of the pen. Charlie chuckled at their antics before looking back to see Hermione's shocked expression. "See," he said. "They aren't all as fierce and terrifying as those dragons we were ordered to bring to Hogwarts." He led her out into the dark, pausing to lock and ward the door before they left.
Hermione was watching him, her head on one side. "What?" he asked her defensively.
She shrugged, but was smiling. "I don't think I've seen you use magic in months. I wasn't sure you knew how any more."
He could only stare at her while she laughed at his expression, but then he was laughing too. "You want me to hex you to prove I can use magic?"
She held up a hand in front of her, as if trying to shield herself, but she was still grinning. "Don't strain yourself," she said. "Two spells in as many minutes? Your wand might snap."
Charlie raised his eyebrows at that. "I could challenge you to a duel, you know," he said mildly. "If you feel you have something to prove?"
Hermione was silent for so long that he worried that he had said something wrong. Was she thinking about the war, and the battles she had faced? Was it something worse? But then she looked up at him with such a mischievous glint in her eyes that he felt his heart skip. "I'll challenge you," she said. "Only if you know enough hexes to incapacitate and annoy rather than cause damage."
Charlie found himself grinning. "Challenge accepted. Tomorrow?"
Hermione nodded, with a slight gleam in her eye that made Charlie begin to worry that he had got himself into another tricky situation. Luckily, he always had a solution for this problem. Fred and George were only ever a fire call away.
Pushing open the door to his home, Charlie caught the concerned glance his sister gave them both, and gave her a slight smile, moving into the kitchen to switch the kettle on. When he looked back, the girls had their heads close together, talking softly. Choosing not to interrupt them, he sent two cups of hot chocolate over to the table in front of them with a flick of his wand, and took his outside. His experience with women may have been limited, but he knew that there were some things that close friends needed to talk through without the infuriating presence of a man. It was late, but it still wasn't cold, and so Charlie made himself comfortable on the steps outside the door, watching the stars. This was a peace, a contentment, that he had not known since before the war. The still silence was something he had never known before he had started work here. Growing up as he had in a house full of family had meant that quiet time was unheard of. It was one of the reasons that he had found it hard to adjust, when he had first arrived, but now was something he realised he had missed. His mother would not be happy, but he was not ready to move closer to civilisation just yet. The reserve still felt like home.
But would it still feel this way when Hermione left? It was a thought he did not want to ponder, but he knew he would have to face it before too long. She had told him that she needed to start her research, to try to bring her parents home. But reversing memory charms was not considered to be possible, It might well consume the rest of her life; and that would mean that they would never be living even close to one another. The thought made him shiver, and Charlie rubbed his arms, realising that it was colder out here than it had seemed at first. He had given the girls long enough anyway. At least, he had given them long enough to relocate to one of their rooms if they were talking about things privately.
He pushed the door open and ducked into the room, seeing only Ginny sat on the sofa. She looked up as he kicked his boots off, a slight frown creasing her forehead.
"Are you OK, Charlie?"
The question caught him off-guard and Charlie just shrugged as he crossed the room and sat down on the hearth rug at her feet. "Why do you ask?"
She pushed her hair away from her face and leaned forward so that she could speak softly. "I don't know. I just expected you to act differently earlier. You just walked away. Why didn't you do anything?"
He had asked himself the same question at the time, but Charlie still knew that he had done the right thing. "Why does everyone expect me to act rashly?" he demanded, but gently. "I knew getting angry and causing a scene would not help. You know what Hermione is like with aggression and violence. She absolutely hates it. And it's not like Ron could have stood a chance in a fight anyway. I would have regretted hurting him and Hermione would never have spoken to me again. For once, Gin, I thought about the consequences. You're not saying I did the wrong thing?"
He had to ask, Charlie thought. He had not heard what the girls had spoken about, and part of him worried that he had misread Hermione's actions when she had come to find him.
Ginny grinned at that and reached out to hug him. "No, you idiot. You did brilliantly. But I never expected you to know how angry she would have been with you for acting on her behalf without consulting her about it first."
Throwing an arm around her, Charlie gave her an affectionate squeeze. "You have spent too much time with the younger half of the Weasley brothers," he told her, grinning. "We're not all completely incompetent. Speaking of which, how good is Hermione as duelling?"
Ginny sat back, looking up at him in shock. "What have you done, Charlie?"
"Me?" He held his hands up as if in defence. "Nothing. She just mocked me for not using magic, and then we challenged each other to a duel to prove I'm not completely inept. What?" He demanded, as he saw her wicked grin.
"It was nice knowing you, Charlie. You know that Harry and Ron would never have defeated Voldemort if it wasn't for Hermione's knowledge of every spell in the world." She got up and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Night." With one last evil grin at him, Ginny left the room.
Wondering if he had made a mistake and was going to end up humiliated rather than amused by the following day's challenge, Charlie conceded that he might need some assistance and made a fire call to the only people he knew who might be able to help.
Fred and George were sat in their flat, idly tinkering with something that looked to Charlie like a giant metal spring, which they put carefully aside before moving closer to the fire. "How lovely to hear from you, brother dear," Fred said, grinning at him.
"We heard how a certain little brother of ours was sent home in disgrace not long ago," George added, sitting down next to Fred. "What have you been up to over there?"
Glad that the glow of the fire would hide his darkening complexion, Charlie ignored them. "I need a bit of help from you two to save my skin tomorrow."
They leaned forward in unison, clearly intrigued. "What are you up to?" Fred asked.
And so, Charlie told them, mildly concerned at the stunned looks they were giving him. And then they looked at each other and burst out laughing.
"Oh man, are you in trouble," George told him.
"She used to take house points from us at school," Fred said. "She's not afraid to stand up to anyone. How are you going to beat her?"
"It's not a fight," Charlie said. "It's more to incapacitate. I thought you two might have something that would make her unable to fight, more because it is bizarre rather than something that tries to stop her using magic."
Looking at each other again, they turned to him and nodded. With the seriousness they only seemed to display while carrying out mischief, they described what he would have to do. Charlie could only stare back at them. "You're mad, you know that?"
Fred bowed. "A compliment. Thank you. Is there anything else we can do for you?"
Actually, Charlie thought, there was. Only someone who didn't believe in impossible could find an answer that apparently didn't exist. "What do you know about reversing a memory charm?"
"Can't be done," George said simply, shrugging. "They're illegal anyway, mate. Believe it or not, our products are regulated. We can't use illegal spells in our creations."
Fred, though, was watching him, with that unusually intelligent stare that they both tried to hide whenever possible. "Memory charms become stronger with age," he said, with uncharacteristic softness. "Don't get her hopes up about it, Charlie. I imagine the charm she used would have been strong. She's an extraordinarily powerful witch."
George had caught on to what Charlie was asking them, and had leaned forward, eyes darkening with thought. "We did some work with daydream charms, years ago," he said. "They weren't just creating memories, but changing thoughts temporarily. It might be related."
Fred nodded, a spark igniting in his eyes. "Send her to us, Charlie, when she comes back. You might have trouble convincing her we aren't joking, but we'll do what we can to help her."
For a moment, Charlie was speechless. The twins had never had much to do with Hermione, as far as he knew. He remembered them grumbling about how un-fun she was when they were younger. He was sure she would be confused by their offer of help, but was filled with a sudden hope that she suddenly had a much greater chance of finding her answer. "I'll let her know. Thanks, both of you."
"Night, Charlie."
He was about to leave when Fred suddenly called his name. "You should tell her before the duel. She might go easy on you."
It was to merry laughter that Charlie ended the call. Despite their teasing, he was smiling. The room suddenly felt dark, cold and empty. It was time to get some sleep. He found himself pausing at Hermione's door and he leaned his hand on the wood, wanting to push the door open and check on her, but not allowing himself to. Sighing, he made his way over to his own room and tried to calm his mind down enough to sleep. He had a feeling tomorrow was going to be another long day.
