In the instants after the magical operation of a Floo, there are flashes of light and lingering smoke that can cloud the traveler's view of the place where they have arrived. This is especially beneficial for people who have forgotten to lock their Floos, like Hermione Granger did the Christmas Eve she came home hopelessly distracted by being secretly in love with Charlie Weasley.

The Floo smoke gave Charlie not quite enough time to separate himself fully from kissing her on her sofa in front of the hearth as his sister and her family arrived on Christmas morning.

"Happy Christmas, Auntie Hermione." Ginny was crowing, waving baby James's hand as if it was a greeting from the beautiful little beast himself. She stopped waving when the smoke cleared enough for her to see that her older brother Charlie, of all people, was already in the room. He was sitting too close to Hermione on the sofa, his hand smoothing the whiskers around his mouth.

Harry was tugging at Ginny's sleeve, miming for her to just stay cool even as she began to fire very un-cool questions at them. "Charlie? What on earth are you doing here today, at this hour?"

Hermione hopped to standing. Charlie did not.

"Same as you're doing," Hermione rushed to explain. "Just keeping a pathetic old family friend company on Christmas morning."

Ginny looked the pair of them over from head to foot. "In his pyjamas? With his shirt on inside out?"

"Oh, you know Charlie. He hates to be too dressed up," Hermione said.

She was glaring at Harry over Ginny's shoulder, their scowls speaking volumes to each other.

Can you please get her out of here?

Can you please lock your Floo?

Ginny was wading in deeper, gasping and piling the baby into Uncle Charlie's arms as he finally rose to stand. She sprung forward and lifted the amber pendant from Hermione's chest. "By the stars, Harry. Do you see this?"

He flashed an apologetic grin at Charlie as he answered. "Yeah?"

Ginny's voice was still rising, bawling at Hermione now. "Do you know what this is?"

"Ginny, enough," Charlie said smoothing the baby's pouf of silky black hair that no one could resist touching, even under intense questioning. "James doesn't like your tone and Harry looks like he's got a gift for Hermione himself. Don't keep her from it any longer."

"Right," Harry said, rushing forward with a picnic basket festooned with Christmas ribbons and greenery. "It's food, mostly. We whipped up some of Molly's recipes, and wound up with tonnes extra. There's all your old Christmas favourites. Mind you don't accidentally eat any holly berries. Decorative purposes only."

Hermione was only too happy to gush her thanks and have a reason to escape to the kitchen where she began unloading the picnic basket.

But Ginny wouldn't be outrun. She followed at Hermione's heels, no longer questioning, but informing. "Hermione, listen to me," she said, her voice low to keep the boys from hearing. "It is none of my business why Charlie left home to sleep here last night. You're both adults and all that. But while I have no idea about your relationship with him, I can tell you that this chunk of amber - Charlie has been carrying it around for ages. Back when I was a little girl he showed it to me and told me he meant to save it and make it into a necklace for his true love."

Ginny dived like a professional chaser on maternity leave to catch the loaf of gumdrop cake Hermione had dropped right before it hit the floor. She stood up to find Hermione pale and stammering.

"No, it's not that, Ginny," she said.

"Not what? Not true love?"

Hermione shushed her rather fiercely.

Ginny was undeterred. "You'd better not be trying to tell me Charlie isn't in love with you, Hermione. Because it is exactly that based on the state of everything in this house this morning, including the redness on your neck. Harry's had a beard the whole time we've been married, and if anyone can recognize over-enthusiastic amorous whisker marks, it's me. So give over."

Hermione groaned, lifting the amber and working it between her fingers. "I know what it looks like, but it's not what you think – not all of it, anyway. The necklace is just part of a flatmates' Christmas gift exchange. Beautiful, but probably a secondhand gift cast off by his ex in Ukraine."

"His what?" Ginny raved. "What ex is this? See, you're starting to know Charlie better than l do already."

"I'm not," Hermione said. "And all I got him for a present was a case for his specs, for stars' sake. No, he's only staying with me at your parents' suggestion and as part of some magic we're working on together, nothing more." Hermione managed to keep her voice calm, but she furiously peeled a tangerine as she explained their arrangement, all of it.

When she was done. Ginny tossed her head and munched on a section of tangerine. "You're after fooling a De-bliviator, are you?" she said. "So did it work? Did letting Charlie at your neck break the curse on your De-bliviator?"

Hermione gasped and pulled her wand out of her pocket.

"You're only checking now?" Ginny bawled again, laughing. "You were so caught up you forgot to check on the magic."

Ginny wasn't wrong. And in spite of kissing the daylights out of Charlie, the Debliviator was still dull grey and lifeless in Hermione's hand. She thrust it back into her pocket. How could it not be working when everything had felt so intense and genuine with her fake husband just now? She had been almost sure it was as real for Charlie as it had been with her. Apparently not. Her eyes stung and her vision began to blur, but she would not cry.

Ginny batted lightly at her arm. "You alright?"

Hermione forced a cough. "I don't know."

Ginny relaxed her questioner stance, throwing an arm around Hermione and rubbing at her arm with her palm as if she was cold. "So it was convenient for Charlie to give you the necklace today. That doesn't mean it isn't also a sincere gift. It can be both, you daft thing. And I reckon it is."

"But it still doesn't work," Hermione burst, almost shouting. "If the De-bliviator is not working, then this is all just playing make believe, nothing real to him. And why would it be real? I'm just the remains of the bony little girl Charlie hardly noticed for years. The wretch his family took in after she ruined her own family. Someone not even good enough for his kid brother to love for long, not even - "

Ginny stood back, raising a hand to stop her. "Are you really asking why Charlie would be in love with you? Are you joking right now, Hermione Granger? How about because you are the best catch in Britain? Now that Harry is off the market, I mean. Stop thinking of yourself as abandoned and boring. You are nothing of the kind, and given a chance, Charlie would jump at you, arrangement or not." She tapped her forefinger against the amber. "It's obvious to me that he already has."

In the lounge, Charlie had slumped on the sofa while Harry stood showing the Christmas tree to James. The baby was grabbing at every shiny thing. He managed to tug at the Mr and Mrs Weasley ornament persistently enough to pull it free while Harry was distracted listening to Charlie.

"It looks bad, doesn't it, Harry?" he began.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'd say so."

"It looks like I sneaked in here to take advantage of the vulnerable position Hermione's in, doesn't it?" he said, not helping his case any as he whipped his shirt over his head, turned it right-side out, and put it on again.

"Well, have you?" Harry bristled. James clubbed him in the head with the metal ornament and Harry pried it from his fingers, reading the inscription. "Mr and Mrs? Enough, Charlie. What are the pair of you playing at?"

Propped on his elbows, Charlie leaned over his knees. "Right. Let me tell you about our arrangement…"

When he finished, Harry was full of questions, technical questions. "I don't understand the damage that's been done to this De-bliviator," he began. "Blood purity is a lie. So what's the De-bliviator's mechanism? How can it work on a lie?"

"It's not biological magic. It's historical magic - something about family names," Charlie said. "That's how Dad explained it. Frankly, it's out of my area of expertise. Dragons don't have family names."

Harry frowned. "Names? Then the De-bliviator should have started working as soon as Hermione registered the marriage certificate. That's when the transfer of names happened."

Charlie rolled his shoulders. "I suppose I should have been researching it more seriously all this time but," he picked up his cold coffee mug, swirling it like it was a terrible whiskey he was about to down in spite of itself, "but I suppose I was enjoying playing house here too much to mind that it didn't make any real sense."

Harry had been shaking his head so long James started to shake his too. "Something definitely isn't adding up. Especially if you went as far as to move in here and the magic still wouldn't work. I mean, I assume this playing house you enjoyed so much went all the way…"

"No, actually," Charlie said, throwing back the coffee. He set his cup down on the coffee table with too loud of a click. "There's been one night in the same bed, no touching, not my idea. And one excellent kiss on the mouth, interrupted, thanks very much."

Harry glanced away when Hermione's voice got momentarily loud in the kitchen. "Sounds noble."

"You don't even know. And the worst part is, I feel awful for getting close to her under the pretense that it's for fixing the bloody De-bliviator," he said.

"Pretense? So why are you really here then?"

Charlie bowed his face into his hands. "I came because I struck a deal with Mum. I stayed because – I'm happy here. And I care for Hermione enough that I can't stand for her to be suffering missing her parents so much. Now that she's not engaged to my brother, I can care for her as much as she'll let me."

Harry blinked hard behind his glasses, considering it.

"However it looks, it's not bad, Harry," Charlie said. "I promise, I do want Hermione to have her family back, which means I can't risk her throwing me out for catching feelings for her that she might not welcome. Once the De-bliviator curse is broken, and she has what she needs, I can risk telling her how I feel. At that point, she won't have to keep me around unless she truly wants to. But I can't tell her before then. She still stands to lose too much."

"Charlie, I think you're underestimating - "

"How can I be?" he snapped. "Sorry, Jamesy. Uncle Charlie's more than a bit frustrated." He stood and rubbed the baby's head as he made the apology, though James didn't seem bothered, straining in Harry's arms to pull more ornaments off the tree.

Charlie went on. "I did try to broach the topic of there being something real between us last night, but she was wholly fixated on the De-bliviator. Would hardly let me get a word in. Clearly, this is not about me." Charlie threw himself back onto the sofa. "I'm the second born of seven. If anyone can understand when something's not about them, it's me. Think about it, Harry. I'm the older, less illustrious brother of the git who broke Hermione's heart and humiliated her while the nation that ought to have kept on honoring her as a hero stood and gawked. I'm part of those Weasleys. Part of the past she's trapped in. This De-bliviator project is about her moving on from that - from us."

"It isn't necessarily like that," Harry said.

"No one thinks so but you and a few other family members. Believe me," Charlie sneered. "Hermione and I have gone everywhere together for months now, and you should see how people glare at me when they notice us. She doesn't think I've seen it, but it's hard to miss."

"They're just mistaking you for Ron. The hair colour and everything - "

"It doesn't matter," Charlie said. "The gawkers might have the details wrong, but they aren't wrong overall. None of the Weasleys deserves Hermione Granger as a wife. I wouldn't care about what anyone thought of the pair of us together if that fact wasn't true."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat on the rug with James, offering him a ring of teething beads he immediately threw across the room. "You are completely off your head right now, you know that Charlie? Listen to me. You need to stop trying to guess what's best for Hermione and let her decide for herself. I've made stupid, noble, one-sided decisions like that in the past myself and regretted it. And in order for Hermione to decide anything, she always insists on having the best possible information. So give it to her. She does deserve that."

Charlie was trying to calm himself, retrieving James's beads and passing them between his fingers, like a meditation, breathing deeply, listening to his junior brother-in-law who had actually learned quite a lot about maintaining a healthy marriage.

"And to get that good information," Harry went on, "I'm going to ask Hermione to give me the De-bliviator to bring to dinner today. George is amazing with magical gadgets. Better than anyone I know, even if you count everyone in the Ministry. If there's anything funny about it, he'll sort it. And if we can get it working for Hermione, then promise me - promise me, Charlie, that you'll tell her everything and let her decide for herself whether she wants to keep you for a real husband."

Following Charlie, Harry pushed George ahead of him, steering him by his shoulders as the three of them crunched across the Burrow's snowy, moonlit garden toward Arthur's workshop.

"Come on, Harry. It's Christmas," George protested. "No one should be dragged off to do work on Christmas."

Harry huffed. "That's not what we say in the Aurors' office."

George moaned more protests.

"Quiet, you," Charlie scolded him as he stooped to break the charms Arthur had conjured to keep the workshop door locked.

"He'll never get in," George said, bending as if to whisper to Harry but speaking as loudly as he pleased. "Freddie and I were the only ones who could ever break in there."

There was the stench of something stronger than the homemade currant wine they'd had with dinner on George's breath. "Are you drunk again already?" Harry said.

George stood straight, gasping as if offended. "You honestly didn't hear, Potter? It's Christmas! So what if I am?"

"I said, shut it," Charlie hissed as the door clicked open. "Keep it down or we'll have the entire family snooping around out here with us."

Harry and George followed Charlie to the worktable where he was already clearing a space, rolling a pile of lightbulbs out of their way. "Here," Charlie said. "Sit down, George, and take a good look at this."

At the sight of the De-bliviator sliding out of Charlie's handkerchief to lay in the bright light, George was suddenly more sober, whistling in admiration. "What do we have here?" he said as he tipped a magnifying lens over the tabletop.

Charlie gave the tersest possible explanation of what the De-bliviator was and where it came from.

"And it's for Hermione to use to fix her parents?" George finished for him. "That's brilliant. Here, here, little De-bliviator."

Charlie groaned and held his head as if it was sore. "It would be brilliant if she could get the bloody thing to work."

All of them jumped as the door creaked open and another ginger head appeared, scowling into the shop. "Don't tell me the three of you are unaware that you aren't supposed to be in here."

"Shut it, Perce," Charlie said, pelting a small metal bolt at the door. "Go back to the house if you can't keep quiet and help."

"Help with what?" It was Bill, his head over Percy's at the crack of the door. "You managed to pick this lock again, did you Georgie? All by yourself and three sheets to the wind?"

"No, it was Charlie," George admitted. "I never knew he had it in him."

Bill gave a low laugh. "I reckon there's a lot you don't know about Charlie."

"Will you both get in here and shut the door," Charlie ordered, finally remembering to flick his wand at the window to drop the blind.

They scooted inside, crowding the worktable as Charlie started his explanation from the beginning.

Percy hummed as he finished. "So Dad says this particular De-bliviator won't work for a Muggleborn. Harry says that can't be right. But even so, Hermione can't get it to do anything. And we don't want Dad to know we're suspicious. There's got to be more to the story than that. Like, what's Charlie doing in the middle of it? It makes no sense."

"Yeah, sure it does," Bill said.

He was about to say more when there was another knock on the door, quick and petulant.

George clucked his tongue, as if he was about to enjoy getting caught. "Party's over. That will be Dad."

"Knocking at his own locks? I think not," Percy said. "Someone go let Ronald in before he starts sulking about being left out again."

He was right. Ron was at the table now too. "You guys brought Harry out here with you but not me?"

"It was all Harry's idea," George said. "Looks like bestie has finally had enough of you. How do you like it, Ronnie?"

"Look, anyone who's not interested in sorting the De-bliviator is welcome to go back to the house," Charlie said, his patience frayed to bits by now.

George scraped the stool he was sat on across the floor.

"Except for you," Charlie said, shoving George back into his seat. "You sit here and tell me what's really wrong with this thing."

George set to work. "Hmm, it's not lighting up when I touch it either. But Dad made it glow blue, you say? Is this how I find out I'm not really a Weasley but some kind of foundling?"

"Yes, the pair of you were actually overgrown gremlins Mum agreed to let Charlie and me raise in a moment of weakness," Bill joked.

"Makes sense when you think about it," Ron muttered.

Charlie growled, getting back on track. "Yes, the De-bliviator lit up for Dad. That's what Hermione told me. Maybe we've broken it worse than ever."

Bill shook his head, no longer joking. "No, that's not it. But something is off. Someone is definitely manipulating Hermione's search for her family."

"Through Dad, though?" Percy pressed. "He's already practically raised her. What more can Dad do to provide a nice family life for national treasure Hermione Granger?"

"Quite a bit," Bill said, winking at Charlie as he pulled the holiday issue of the Daily Prophet from beneath his Christmas jumper. George held the De-bliviator out of the way as Bill spread the newspaper open to page four, the gossip page. There on the cheap yellow parchment was a photo of a Muggle movie theatre marquee lit up at night, and beneath it was Charlie, rushing to take Hermione by both her hands, holding them until she slumped into his arms and he rested his head against hers. Before the picture looped, their faces were close enough, obscured by her hair enough that he might have been just about to kiss her.

Charlie hissed a swear as Ron gurgled as if he was being strangled. Bill beamed, and George laughed and clapped Charlie hard on the back.

Percy read the caption aloud:

"After months of unsubstantiated rumors, Page Four is pleased to announce that Hermione Granger, pictured above enjoying a Christmas cuddle, has finally succeeded in making herself into a Mrs. Weasley. In a delicious twist, the lucky groom is senior Weasley brother and longtime bachelor, Charles Weasley, lately of Romania. Records confirm the marriage was quietly registered during the spring, but the couple has only recently begun cohabiting in Kensington. Warmest congratulations and best wishes for a pleasant holiday to all Weasleys everywhere, particularly those visiting from France."

Ron cringed more spectacularly than ever. "That bloody paper. Will they give it a rest, already?"

"So they finally caught up to you," Bill said, patting Charlie's shoulder. "The way Percy tells it, you and Hermione have been canoodling in public, every lunch hour atf the Ministry ever since you got back."

"Canoodling?" Charlie roared, rounding on Percy.

Percy didn't back down, waving the paper in Charlie's face. "Clearly! I mean, look at the eyes you're making at her in this photo. That's what you're like. Frankly, I was getting tired of answering for it."

Ron was interrupting them. "Listen, I know I'm the last person entitled to an explanation," he said, "but I'm afraid I've got to ask. 'The marriage was quietly registered?' What the hell, Charlie?"

Charlie scrubbed his face with his hands. "You tell them, Harry. Please."

Harry explained the arrangement, the quick dispassionate, factual, uninterrupted report of an Auror, exactly as Charlie wanted.

Percy hummed, leaning back on his heels. "So Mum and Dad were the ones who set it up."

"I know, right?" Bill said, his eyebrows lifted.

"But you're coming around to it on your own now, Charlie," Percy said. It wasn't a question.

"How I feel about it is hardly the point when Hermione's parents still have no memory of her," Charlie said.

Harry groaned. "He's got some ridiculous notion about being sure not to manipulate her into loving him back while the De-bliviator isn't working for her. Though Ginny says he's got nothing to worry about, but…"

Ron was sputtering worse than ever. "Loving him back? Love? Charlie, do you really - "

"A-ha!" George burst. "There's a concealment spell cast on this innocent-looking device. Crafty one too. What's it hiding? Give me sec.'"

"Easy. It'll be something to do with the Death Eater curse that got it confiscated in the first place," Bill said, skilfully keeping the conversation away from Charlie's feelings.

"Nope, this spell is a new variety. Post-war," George said, the De-bliviator sparking on the tabletop as he broke through the concealment. "It's sneaky magic, but not too dark. You know, playful."

"Like one of our products from the shop," Ron finished.

George gave a triumphant grunt. "Oh yeah. Have a look at this, gents." Under the magnifying lens, George held a tiny probe, prying it into a slot on the De-bliviator so small it was all but invisible. "There's a little, sliding switch here. It's got two positions."

"Like an on and off switch," Harry said. "Muggle devices have them all the time."

"Yeah, and it's jammed over to one side so the switch won't move," George said, prying harder. "Like there's something - stuck in it."

"Gently, now," Percy warned.

Ignoring him completely, George made one final, deft flick with the probe, and a small piece of dull grey metal fell onto the worktable. At first, no one said anything, the ring of men around the table silent, squinting at this familiar bit of metal. They were trying to remember where they'd seen something like it before. All at once, they recognized it.

"Knitting needle," Harry called it. He was right. The De-bliviator's switch had been jammed by the tip of a knitting needle forced into it and snapped off.

What the rest of the men said when they saw it was, "Mum."

Hermione jumped, sloshing hot cocoa over her hand at the sound of Charlie returning to the flat through the Floo, late on Christmas night. She was in the kitchen, stooped over the sink, running cool water over her raw skin as he called her name and followed the light and the sound of the water.

Charlie gasped at the sight of her. "You're burned!"

"Just a little scalded," she said, not looking at him, nervous.

"Let's have a look," he said. "With my line of work, burn remedies have become my specialty. You've got the right idea with the water." He slipped his hand into the stream above hers, letting it break on his skin first to soften the pressure on hers.

She answered with an embarrassed whimper. "Yes, I've got the basic first aid. I'm not completely helpless, just clumsy."

Charlie clucked his tongue. "No, clumsiness about it. This is my fault for using the noisy Floo late at night when I could have apparated." He lifted her hand out of the sink, shutting off the water. He held it close to his face, examining the fading pink spot on the skin at the base of her thumb. "It's not bad. No need for a poultice. But we still don't want to rub it dry," he said, lowering his face toward her hand.

Hermione was suddenly stiff and hot, partly panicking, partly desperately hoping he might kiss her wound. Instead, he blew on it, drying it with a gentle jet of air from his mouth.

She ought to thank him, or demand to know if George had learned anything useful about the De-bliviator. But the fact was, she and Charlie hadn't seen each other since he left with Ginny and Harry early that morning. Now that he was here again, just the two of them, she had gone right back to where they'd been the moment Ginny arrived. She'd gone back to being secretly, achingly in love with him and wanting to know how he felt about her more than anything else.

"Charlie?" she managed to say.

He hummed a reply, raising his head, and as his face came back into her view, she sprung forward and kissed his mouth, hot but quick, timid in spite of the risk she had taken, sweet and unsure.

When his grip tightened on her hand, it gave her the courage to say, "Now that we've started it, feel free to kiss me, if you like. Whenever you want. Just kissing won't affect our eligibility for an annulment, when the time comes. I checked the statutes, and I think - "

He tugged on her hand harder than he meant to, interrupting her himself, for once, kissing her in return. He meant it to be a soft, gentle echo of the kiss she'd given him, but he couldn't manage it. At the touch of her mouth he let go of her hand and clasped her in his arms, surprised by the growl in his throat. He slouched back against the sink, dishes rattling as he came closer to her height and brought her to stand between his feet. Hermione leaned into him, her hands on his face to keep him close, her mouth open, sighing a small moan of relief after missing everything about him all day.

She breathed deeply, taking in his scent, one hand descending from his jaw to his neck, finding the tassled end of the new muffler his mother had made him. She was beginning to unwind it from around his neck when he broke away.

Her eyes wide, swaying in his hold, she caught sight of sadness in his expression as he tipped his forehead against hers, catching his breath. It was the same look she'd seen when he agreed they wouldn't touch each other in bed the night before. Only this expression was gloomier, something like the look Ron had given her when he kissed her for the last time.

She began to question him, to apologize for - for whatever it took to make him smile again. Her words were still unformed when he held one finger lightly to her lips.

"I need you to keep quiet and listen to me," he said. "Please. No interrupting this time. I need you to be patient enough to come see something with me. It's not too far."

She nodded, her eyes drifting closed as his fingertip traced the upper curve of her lip. Yes, anything.

"And then," he said. "I need you to let me tell you something. Once you've heard it all, and thought very hard, I'll do whatever you tell me to do about it."

The high pink colour from their kisses drained out of her face. "It's the De-bliviator, isn't it? George couldn't find anything wrong with it. It just doesn't work for us, does it? Just tell me, Charlie."

He summoned her coat and hat. "Stop guessing. You're supposed to be patient, remember? But don't worry about the De-bliviator. George tuned it up and it's better than ever. Now let's be off."

With that, Charlie looked around the flat that had been his home all winter. He gave a sharp nod, rather like a parting salute before taking Hermione in his arms and turning on the spot.