"And I am telling ya! That little sweetheart didn't even know. I'm pretty sure we just surprised him!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as Sora swayed next to her, loudly telling the story of his first Dragon injury. Over the years she had heard some iteration of it enough times from enough people but it never failed to warm her heart. Dragon Handlers really were a breed of their own and their love for their craft was apparent in their scars and their eyes. Sora was shaping up to be one hell of a Handler… or he would have been if they were in their own timeline.

Hermione sipped on some of the mixed drinks that they had made. She had been able to nick a bottle of rough made vodka that the Russians were working on. It was made with some sort of Romanian root and smelled slightly pine-y but didn't taste awful. The burn chasing down the back of her throat cooled the last of her fear from the day, numbing her senses just enough to lull her into a sense of cautious peace.

Hermione was pulled from Sora's story (which now involved a very descriptive section of the sheen of respect in the dragon's eye) when a high pitched laugh cut through the air on the other side of the large bonfire in the center of camp. Two of the healers had stopped Charlie on his way back from the bathroom and were 'checking' on his new injury which seemed to involve far too much touching to be medically standard. The one closest to him was smiling and nodding while resting her hand on his hip.

The other caught her eye through the flames and smirked before pulling at Charlie's wrist, trying to coax him to sit with them. Hermione scoffed to hide the stick feeling in her stomach and looked back to Sora who had dropped the story and was watching the interaction with sharp eyes.

"Sorry about them Hermione," he said, more than a bit drunkenly. "It's not really their fault. They're bored here. They were promised excitement, battles, and glory. Instead they sit in a building all day trying to fix idiot boys who poke dragons and don't know which end of a wand spells come out of."

"There is no glory in war," Hermione responded darkly, staring at the Clerk-come-Dragon Handler. "And they don't need to be so catty about it."

"What do you know of war?" Sora asked.

"More than anyone would care to know," she answered quietly.

"You're so young though."

"Exactly," Hermione responded, catching Charlie as he finally shook off the Healers and headed back over. He rolled his eyes dramatically and it made her smile. "There's a lot about us you don't know."

"And this is you telling me that I shouldn't ask?"

"And this is why I like dealing with Slytherins." Hermione smiled broadly and ruffled the young wizards hair. He yelped and pushed her hand away with a glare that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What's this? A snake?" Charlie asked plopping down on Hermione's other side. "Sora I thought you were with the Romanians."

Charlie lazily threw an arm around her shoulder and Hermione could just make out the Healers scoffing on the other side of the fire. She knew it was petty but she relaxed into his side, snuggling closer to him with a sigh. They had parts to play after all and it was quite cold. His chest all but burned beneath his shirt and hardened muscles of his arm softened against her shoulders as he relaxed, toying with the collar of her shirt.

"My mum is a Brit so I went to Hogwarts when she left my da' and moved back. I still spent summers here with him though and when I wrote him about wanting to join up, he took me in and got me registered. He's pretty well in with the Reserves."

"Is he going to be mad that I cut up his baby boy?" Charlie asked, plopping a hand to ruffle at Sora's hair just like Hermione had. Sora jumped away scowling before he could manage it and huffed.

"Oh shut it." Sora glanced at the way Charlie's arm settled on her shoulder and scoffed. "You two are disgusting. Go back to your tent and leave us single people to our misery."

Sora stumbled away, over to a new set of soldiers who had yet to hear the story of his daring fang removal. Hermione knew part of it was for the bragging rights but the majority of it was because he was proud he had saved the creature.

She was pulled from her musings when Charlie's arm tightened around her pulling her almost into his lap. When she glanced up at him curiously he was watching a group of Healers just out of the light of the fires. They would glance over and point from time to time before tittering.

"Charlie."

"What?"

"You're… awfully clingy tonight."

Hermione frowned when he startled. He blushed slightly, unwinding his arm from her shoulder. She missed the warmth his body had been providing immediately and cursed herself for saying anything at all. It was always nice to be held by Charlie, like she was safe and wanted, even if it didn't mean anything in particular.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," he grumbled. "I just…"

"Yeah?"

"I don't like how they treat you… or me… or us I suppose." He scratched at the back of his head while Hermione waited for him to sort his thoughts out.

"The healers… they don't like you do they?" Charlie asked finally.

"I suppose you could say that," Hermione answered with a slight smile.

"Erm… not to be callus, but do they have a reason to?"

"Sounds like something you should ask them." Hermione paused. "But no. No more than usual. I haven't been overly friendly to them but they haven't liked me overly much since the first time they saw me. Ebbenflow, the Weather Witch, says it has something to do with being specialized."

"I see." Charlie leaned back, staring at the sky with a frown. "They say things about you and our relationship. Like that I never touch you and clearly don't want you. They act like I am just suffering through our... marriage and I… "

Charlie glanced at her, his eyes catching the reflection of flames from the bonfire. The hazel flickered between green, orange, and brown reminding Hermione of the countryside in fall and all the wonderful memories she had gained with the man over the years. They may not actually be married but it was hard to argue that there was anyone else more important in their lives than each other.

"I wouldn't mind being married to you. I'd be damned lucky. Hell," Charlie continued quietly. "Even if this were real, you'd deserve better than an old, cut-up man like me."

"Oh, Charlie," Hermione sighed, taking the moment to ruffle his hair, knocking it out of it's leather tie. It fell through her hands like silk and he sighed happily. "Stop that. I'd be thrilled to have you. Any witch would be."

"Still-" he groaned as her fingers scratched against his scalp. "They imply that you don't take care of me. I don't need to be taken care of and if I did, you are the only one who could certainly nag me into compliance."

Hermione gave him a mock glare and tugged sharply at his hair. He jumped and swore, his eyes shooting open. There was a quarter of a second where she thought she had hurt him by the way his jaw clenched but he quickly settled back into the laid-back jovial man she had grown fond of.

"Alright then," Hermione said defiantly. "If you are so worried about what they think. Prove it."

"What?"

"We're a couple aren't we?" Hermione challenged. "Shouldn't we act like it?"

"I don't…" Charlie's eyes drifted to her lips and her pulse skipped a beat. Hermione jumped as Sora settled on the next bench over with his new friends, starting the story for the fiftieth time tonight.

She shook her head, clearing the thoughts. Instead she scooted a bit further down the bench from Charlie and patted her lap. The Healers, as generally catty as they may have been, did have a point. Charlie and Hermione rarely looked like a couple during the work day. Other than the fact they lived in the same tent they just seemed like coworkers from the outside looking in. Which of course, they were, but that didn't fare well for their cover.

"Come on then… lay down."

"There?" Charlie asked quizzically.

"No, on the hard packed ground," Hermione quipped. "Yes here. If you don't I will be forced to lament about my cold husband who doesn't let me take care of him. Maybe some young conscript will take pity and steal me away. Then what will you do?"

Charlie laughed but said nothing as he maneuvered his way down. His head rested on her thighs with his long form thrown casually over the bench. He stretched out, his body taking up more room than anyone rightfully deserved and drawing her eyes up and down his-

"Well I feel objectified already." Charlie smirked when she glared down at him. "Not that you aren't a lovely pillow but what-"

He cut himself off with a groan as her hands dug back into his hair, massaging the scalp and the hard muscles of his neck and shoulders. Little by little he melted against her, warming her more than the flames with his body heat. Her cheeks flushed red, the little sounds of pleasure he was making did not seem appropriate for polite company.

By the time she had worked his muscles to a less-than-tense state he looked more relaxed than she had seen him since arriving. That was the problem with Charlie, because he was always so even-headed and laid-back it was hard to notice when he was stressed. There were quiet signs if you cared to look; the tension in his jaw, the pulling of his mouth into a tight line. But after years spent in each other's company she had learned him well and with him all but collapsed on her lap she was happy to keep him there. Charlie worked hard and always put everyone and everything else before himself. He deserved a good rest.

She cracked her fingers and wove them through the long strands of his hair. Little bits here and there were burned and she cut them off as she went, trying her best to make it look natural. Not that Charlie cared one way or another. She swore that without her and Marley's assistance Charlie's hair would look like a pine tree most days

When that was done she carefully undid his braid, carefully setting aside the hand carved beads and gleaming golden feather. Her fingers picked apart the braid, carefully teasing out the small knots as she went. From the look of the new growth at his roots he hadn't done this since her last visit and she scoffed.

"Something to say, wife?" Charlie hummed.

"You know I won't always be here to do this for you. You should learn how."

"Is that you saying you want a divorce?"

"Oh shut up." Hermione laughed along with Sora and his mates who appeared to be watching the interaction with envy. She stuck out her tongue at them and set about braiding the strands together, occasionally sliding a bead onto one or the other. Charlie had five, one for each of the eggs he had hatched. When she finished she tucked the quill of the feather into the weave and tied it all off with a new sticking and impervious charm.

"There you are," she said, inspecting her work. "All done."

With a deep groan Charlie rose, turning slightly so that he leaned over her. As he always did, he pulled at the curl at the base of her neck, silently asking her when she would let him give her her feather.

"We'll have to get one for Sora at this rate," he hummed, his breath brushing against her collarbone and sending a shiver down her spine. "He's shaping up to be quite a respectable Dragon Handler."

"Good luck getting him away from Higgs," Hermione scoffed, she caught his eyes and smiled. "Well, have I completed my wifely duties to your satisfaction?"

Charlie's eyes grew dark and that sly smile pulled at his lips. His hand dropped to cup her chin turning her up to face him. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears as he hung over her.

"Not quite."

Hermione gulped and her eyes dropped to his mouth. Surely not, he wouldn't. They were supposed to be married and married people did tend to kiss but Hermione honestly had never seen Charlie kiss anyone. He was very private with his relationship and on the rare occasion he had one, he kept it away from his family and friends. Out in a public place like this he couldn't-

"I have had to do my own laundry since arriving," Charlie responded seriously, dropping his hand away. "My tea is stale. There is mud on my boots and you smacked me three times today. Honestly you are a dreadful wife."

Sora and the men next to them laughed. Hermione's heart rate slowed dramatically. A small part of her was the tiniest bit hurt but not from the words. She shook away the thought instantly. She had never considered the idea of her and Charlie before now and doing so while being trapped in the past was not the ideal circumstance for it.

"Well if you wanted those things you should have known better than to take me as a wife," Hermione responded primly, sticking her nose into the air.

"Eh, those things are boring and I can do them myself," Charlie responded, still not having lost that smile. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "However, that thing you do with your tongue is-"

"Charlie Steptimus Weasley! What would your mother say!" Hermione screeched, slapping his chest and blushing furiously. Charlie fell backward coughing as the onlookers and broke into laughter. Soon Hermione found herself joining them as Charlie swore viciously.

"That's four, witch."

By the time they returned to their tent hours later they were tipsy and laugh-drunk. Charlie had walked through camp with her tucked under his arm the whole way and she was sure that she had to smell like him at this point. Not that she minded, he always smelled like outside and the sky.

"Well, I'd say we make a cute couple don't you?" Charlie asked as he swayed through the living room. She couldn't help but notice the way his long legs still moved steadily as if incapable of tripping even while drunk.

"I have always had a thing for red-heads," Hermione hummed in response, her head spinning slightly.

"Don't tell my brothers!" Charlie gasped dramatically. "I'll never get you back."

"Oddly enough, they say the same thing about you," Hermione laughed.

"Well wife, it's time for bed." Charlie pulled off his shirt revealing the hard toned muscles of his back.

Hermione couldn't help but let her eyes trace down the contours of his back, the ink of his tattoos swirling along his shoulders. The African Onyx-Claw shifted in place from where it lounged, clearly pleased with the work her hands had done on its bed, it's massive black wings stretched out absently to span the width of Charlie's shoulders before tucking around its form as it snored. Vines crawled up his shoulder, providing scaffolding for the smallest breed of dragon, a Pixie Drake. The palm-sized creatures see-through wings were more insect that reptile but their little puffs of poison breath were deadly none-the-less. Charlie had long since explained that she reminded him very much of a Pixie Drake, small and unassuming but vicious in defending what was hers.

"Hm?" she responded, shaking out of her distraction to a smug grin from Charlie as he turned.

"I asked if you wanted to join me in our marriage bed but if you'd prefer to attack me where I stand I wouldn't mind that either."

"That's a cot," Hermione deadpanned, stalking away swiftly to hide her blush.

Her brain was still fuzzy from the alcohol and just reckless enough to consider agreeing. Thankfully Charlie just laughed and called out his goodnight across the tent as she settled into her own bed. Soon the sound of soft snoring echoed through the tent, lulling her into a dream-filled sleep where hazel eyes burned as they watched her, and his hair dragged across her skin.