A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters

This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Word Count: 758

Socks. That was the first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes. A pair of thick woolen socks hanging from the headboard. She blinked a few times, trying to remember why she would have hung socks there in the first place, and then trying to remember if she even owned a pair of tangerine colored woolen socks.

She despised the color orange since it was the color of Ron's favorite Quidditch team. These socks were most certainly not hers. She quickly sat up, the thick blanket falling down from her body, her naked body. She grabbed at the covers, pulling them back up over herself. Where the bloody hell was she and what had she gotten herself into.

Slowly she started looking around the room. There was a Chudley Cannon's poster on one wall. Her heart froze in her chest. No, no, no, she could not be in Ron's bed! No! Her breathing sped up as she searched the room desperate to find something, anything, that would tell her she had not gone home with Ron Weasley last night!

Her eyes finally landed on the dresser. There was a stack of books on top of it. Her breathing slowed slightly as she slid from the bed, dragging the white and red blanket with her. Books. Ron wasn't much on reading unless he had to, books were a good sign. The spines were facing away from her. She reached out and grabbed the top one, a thin volume with a green cover.

"The Dragon's Princess?" she read, her nose crinkling slightly. That didn't tell her anything, other than the man she had been with last night apparently read fantasy novels in his spare time. She set that book down and grabbed the second one. This one didn't have a title, but the cover was illustrated with a large red and gold dragon.

Hermione smiled seeing it. Dragons, she liked dragons alright. She thought back to the previous evening, how she'd gone out to celebrate the passing of yet another law protecting magical creatures. This one had focused on dragons of all things, and now, she was in the room of someone else who liked dragons and for some inexplicable reason, the stupid Cannons. The last book was actually a bound leather journal.

"Find something interesting to read?" a gruff voice asked. Hermione squeaked and turned around, trying to look innocent, like she wasn't trying to figure out who she'd gone home with last night. That mystery was quickly answered as she saw the man in question leaning against the frame of the bathroom door, completely naked. Hermione smiled, relieved.

"Charlie, no, well, yes, I didn't know you read these kind of books," she stated, holding up the fantasy book.

"It's funny to read how wrong muggles get dragons. Can you believe they eat princesses?" he asked, walking over to Hermione.

"I grew up with the fairy tales, so yes, I can, of course, I'm pretty sure it mentions only that they eat virgin princesses," she offered, her face flushing slightly being so close to Charlie. She could smell his scent, a slightly smoky scent, with a hint of leather, old parchment. It was one she would never forget smelling the first time in Slughorn's class.

"A rather silly notion, honestly. Imagine how many princesses one dragon would have to eat, I mean, look at the size of them!"

"True," Hermione answered, setting the book down as Charlie wrapped his arms around her. "I always thought the stories were silly myself. Of course, I didn't know dragons existed until Hogwarts, remember Hagrid's pet?" she asked, remembering the first time she'd met Charlie, when he'd come to see baby Norberta off. She remembered admiring him then, doing something dangerous and a part of her twelve year old self had found the idea of danger incredibly interesting.

"I remember," Charlie laughed. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"No, I woke on my own, and then saw your socks..."

"Oh, right, guess they did end up there last night," Charlie commented, glancing over at the bed. "Sorry, I know your clothes are around here somewhere. If you wanted to grab a shower while I look for them?"

"A shower would be nice, have you already taken one?' Hermione asked, noticing Charlie's hair wasn't wet.

"Not yet, why? Want me to join you?" he asked.

"I don't think I'd object if you did," she answered, dropping the blanket and heading that direction. Charlie followed her a moment later, closing the door behind them.