December 24, 2003

Hermione grit her teeth, gripping the floo powder in her palm as she tried to drum up the courage to step into the floo and call out "The Burrow." It was Christmas Eve dinner, and no one knew she and Ron had broken off their engagement. She wasn't sure she could face all the cheerful couples, or Charlie, with his bright and brooding eyes that made her stomach drop every time they locked gazes at the office.

The last five months had been difficult working with him and seeing him every Sunday at the Burrow. She had appreciated that he had leveled with her at the hotel in Scotland. But ever since then, she'd felt both distant from him—embarrassed at what had transpired—and closer to him, for his honesty and care. They had never brought that night up again, but they had also never gotten past it; there was an underlying tension there that was more than just the fallout from an awkward conversation.

When his eyes would catch hers at the office, her insides would clench in longing, while ribbons of shame would tighten around her chest. His eyes seemed to hold silent conversations with hers that had nothing to do with centaurs, or bowtruckles, or magical beast policy. Part of her felt guilty at the heat his presence incited, and part of her felt free and alive, as if her life wasn't just one big foretold story of what she was "supposed" to do.

Heaving a breath, she tossed the powder in the fireplace, and seconds later emerged into the chaos of the Burrow. Molly was the first to greet her, and immediately squished her into a loving and soft embrace, her bosom and belly pressing into Hermione's lithe body like a comforting plush throw blanket on a snowy winter evening.

She hugged everyone in turn, as she made her way through the living area. Her embrace with Charlie felt mechanical and perfunctory to the keen observer. It was the first time they had touched each other since that summer night under the stars in Scotland. But she felt an immediate thrum of her magic when they touched, and he seemed to feel it, too, his fingers gripping her back as it ran through them. Ron, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen or out back with Arthur.

They had agreed they wouldn't tell anyone they had broken off the engagement till after Christmas. Neither of them wanted to ruin the holiday for everyone else. But as she stepped back from Charlie's warm, strong body, she decided she wanted him to know before the night was over.

-o~0~o-

Hermione and Ron were avoiding each other, Charlie noticed. They were doing their best to act normal with each other, but he could tell their smiles were forced, their actions rote. He wondered what had happened. Maybe they had a big fight? He couldn't imagine fighting with Hermione if she were his. He castigated himself for thinking such. But, he had worked with her for six months now, and if anything, his unwanted thoughts that arose that night in Scotland had only grown louder. She was smart as a whip, fun-loving, quick on her feet, and her eyes lit up whenever he walked into the room. He was the cause of that; his presence made her glow.

They sat down to dinner at the magically expanded table, all fourteen of them, and Charlie ended up next to Hermione. Tension radiated off her frame, and she remained unusually quiet throughout the meal, as did Ron, who sat to her other side. It was clear to him, and would have been to anyone else if they'd been paying attention, that Ron and Hermione were putting on a show and that everything was not copacetic.

An hour later, while the rest of the family bustled about the house, chasing after toddlers, talking, and imbibing liberally of his father's homemade eggnog, Charlie noticed Hermione sitting quietly in one of the chairs farthest from the center of the social activities.

He approached her. "Hey, I'm going out for some cool air. Like to join me?"

She regarded him with grateful eyes and stood to follow him.

They wandered out to a gnarled tree past the gardens, and Charlie took up residence on an old stone wall and pulled out a cigarette. He didn't smoke often, but tonight seemed like a good time. He held the pack out to her. "Want one?"

She shook her head, and sat on the wall next to him, close, closer than a casual friend. She sat silently, gazing up at the stars and the night sky illuminated by an almost full moon, and he could feel the tension leaving her frame as she peered upward.

When it became apparent she didn't plan on speaking first, he asked, simply, "What happened?"

She continued staring at the stars, her face turned upward, lustrous in the moonlight. "You're a perceptive man, Charlie," she remarked.

"Only when it comes to you," he replied, exhaling smoke into the sky.

She tensed, briefly, but then relaxed again. "We broke off our engagement."

Silence. He knew she wasn't finished speaking, and he wasn't going to intrude on her thoughts with his own. He sat calmly, quietly, waiting for her to continue. She focused on the sky, but he focused only on her.

"You were right," she said eventually. "I haven't been able to get your words out of my head since Scotland."

He almost spoke, almost apologized, but he didn't. He remained silent and waited, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"You know what I loved? I loved the idea of Ron and me. The idea of us being a happy couple, our forever after for each other. It was only right, after what we went through during the war, during the Horcrux hunt." Now she did turn her face to Charlie's, her eyes black in the darkness, searching his own.

"Do you know he was ready to die for me?" she asked. "That day in the Manor, when Bellatrix nearly killed me on the floor of the drawing-room, torturing me over Gryffindor's sword, carving this slur into my arm?" She rubbed the remnants of the cursed scar that would never fully fade.

"He was ready to die for me. I could hear him screaming my name from the dungeons as I came in and out of consciousness while she was Crucio-ing me. He was desperate, Charlie. Hysterical."

He saw tears begin to slide down her cheeks, and his fingers itched to wipe them away, but he didn't. This wasn't about him.

"I do love him. He's been with me through everything. And I know he loves me, just as deeply. Do you know how hard it is to realize that the person you thought you were always meant to be with isn't the one? Part of me can't imagine loving someone else as much as I've loved Ron."

Her voice broke to a whisper. "But it's not enough. Or maybe it's too much. I don't know. All I know is—" she stared back up at the sky and took a deep breath "—it's not right, and it's over between us. We broke it off two days ago."

He watched her close her eyes and take several deep breaths, trying to compose herself. He continued to remain silent, unsure if she was finished or not, stubbing his cigarette out against the wall and casting a silent breath-freshening charm.

After a few moments, she opened her eyes. "Thank you for helping me to realize it. As painful as it is."

His brows furrowed in question, though she didn't see it, her eyes still focused above.

"That night, in Scotland, with you… I knew, when we kissed on the way back to the hotel, deep in my bones, though I loathed to admit it, that I couldn't marry Ron. I knew it before you told me why, back in your room. I just didn't know my path until you told me." She turned to him. "Thank you."

Part of him felt guilty for contributing to the breakup of their relationship, but part of him felt relieved that his brother and Hermione weren't committing themselves to a marriage that was wrong for both of them.

"Charlie, I need some space for a bit," she continued, "but—" her dark eyes held his as she leaned ever so slowly closer to him "—I'd like to try what we left behind in Scotland, someday, if you want," she whispered.

He tried to keep his body still, but he couldn't. "I do," he breathed back, closing the short distance between them and pressing his lips to hers. She tasted of eggnog and some essence unique to her. Once again, he was hard in his pants, and his brain was filled with fantasies of taking her back to his flat and stripping her naked. He wanted to see what her breasts looked like below the gentle swell visible in some of her clothes, to see what her thighs and bum looked like spread open and ready for him. He moaned into her mouth as she wrapped her tongue with his, and he struggled to keep his hands on her arms and not grope at her through her newly-knitted jumper from his mum.

After several moments, she pulled back. "Thank you, Charlie." Then she pushed off the wall and was gone, leaving him with an ache in his groin and a burning desire to find the nearest room with a lock to relieve it.

January 5, 2004

Today was Hermione's first day back at work after a long one-and-a-half-week holiday. She was flustered as she stepped into the DRCMC. She hadn't seen Charlie since Christmas Eve, choosing to spend Christmas Day with her parents, and New Year's Eve with Luna, Hannah, and Neville. She couldn't bear to be with Ron and his family again, now that they all knew the engagement was broken off. Molly had reached out to her several times, assuring her she was still part of their family even if things with Ron were 'confusing'—clearly Molly was hoping they'd resolve their differences—and so she'd taken the coward's way out and avoided them all.

The confusing thing was, she didn't know if Charlie was a way-stop on her road to happiness, or if she had real feelings for him and maybe he was "the" stop. And thus, her nervous energy was nearly paralyzing as she walked to her desk.

Sitting down, she carefully opened her files, glancing at Charlie's office door; it was open, and he wasn't there. She took a deep breath and delved into a new project studying graphorn and granian migration patterns. After a half hour lost in her research, she suddenly caught a whiff of an enticing scent, something woodsy, musky, and clean all at once. She glanced up and saw Charlie whisking by her desk to his office. When he reached his door, he paused and peered back at her. Catching her eyes, he raised his brows, then entered his office, leaving the door open.

She tried to concentrate on her files, but Charlie's scent lingered in the air, and his open door was alluring. Finally, she gave up, and entered his office, closing the door behind her; it felt like her magic had drawn her here.

He watched her expectantly, questions and anticipation flitting across his features. "Hi," he smiled. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year to you, too," she breathed. She stood there, blinking at him, unsure what to say or do, only knowing she wanted to be here, near him.

"Is everything okay, Hermione?" he asked, apparently unsure whether she was in his office for a work-related matter, or revisiting their Christmas Eve conversation under the stars.

"Yes," she replied. "Everything's okay." Her voice pitched higher in embarrassment as she searched around for a reason to be here besides wanting to snog him. "I just wanted to say hello, and thanks for listening on Christmas Eve." Rattled, she added, "Did you have a good New Year?"

They chatted a few moments, somewhat stiltedly, about their holidays, and Hermione, flustered, gave him a small wave and left his office.