AN: I'm glad that the story is being well received. I only have one more chapter to post after this one, and it should be up within 5 or 6 days. Enjoy!

Ch 3

"Where is Harry?"

The sound broke the stillness of the room, and Charlie glanced up from the newspaper in surprise. Hermione was standing in the open doorway to the bedroom draped in an overly big bath robe, and her long hair was wet and clean. Her skin was still too pale, and she still had dark bags under her eyes, but the past week had done much to give the girl a healthier appearance.

It wasn't so much the words that jarred Charlie, however, as much as it was the first time he'd heard Hermione speak since he and his brothers had rescued her from the auction six days back. It had taken a lot to make her feel secure, and even then, loud noises startled her. The first day had been spent making her comfortable, and getting her to rest and eat. The second day had consisted of trying to explain to her just why they purchased her, and what they hoped to accomplish by doing so.

It took all of the third and fourth day for her to be comfortable enough in her surroundings to allow the three Weasley's to leave her alone for short times. Before that, she had clung to them, never wanting to be alone. The fifth day was spent trying to acquire her a black market wand through some connections they had through other "helpers". And on the sixth, on that very day, she grew comfortable enough to speak to them.

Hermione had never been especially close to any of the three remaining Weasley's, though she had at least known George while in school. Between the two, Charlie and Bill had seen her maybe three times ever before the auction. They each expected her to cling to George, to open up to him, as she knew him. But that wasn't the case. Instead, she clung to Charlie, holding him tightly in the night when a nightmare came to torment her. It was Charlie who wiped her tears away and brushed his hand over her hair, and her back. Charlie was her light, her savior.

"Where is he?" Charlie was startled out of his thoughts as he focused on her, and the pleading quality of her voice. Charlie sighed and tried to think of the best way to approach this problem.

"I don't know, Hermione. It's been quite a while since I've seen him." The answer was truthful, though Charlie was referring more to where he could be at that possible moment, rather than in general. When the brothers had rented the flat, they put strong wards on it to avoid being snooped in on, but they still remained cautious to the possibility that it could be heard.

"He didn't die, then?" Hermione's voice was soft, barely audible, as she asked the question of him. He concentrated on her face for a moment, and noticed she was biting down on her lower lip. He trailed his gaze down a bit, and noticed that her hands were clenched in the material of the large robe.

"He was wounded, but no, Hermione, he didn't die."

"Who did?"

"Who died? Well, Professor's McGonagall and Dumbledore, as well as Mr. Filch. Remus Lupin made it through the war, only to be killed by an assassin afterwards. My.. my parents, of course, as well as Percy, Fred, Ron and Ginny. Most of the members of the Order were eradicated, either during the war, or shortly after. We managed to escape detection by swearing allegiance."

Charlie watched her carefully while he spoke, though her curiously blank expression unnerved him slightly. She didn't appear surprised by any of the names, or even of his confession of pledging allegiance to Voldemort. It was this Hermione that he just didn't know how to handle. An upset girl, or angry one, those were easy to deal with. But this broken girl in front of him, she wasn't nearly as easy to take. In short, he was worried about her. Without another word, she nodded once, then disappeared back into the bedroom.

That night, the nightmares didn't come, and when Charlie woke the next morning, he couldn't be certain if he felt good about that, or if he was disappointed by it. She was still curled up in her own small bed when he went in to check on her. For several moments, he stood in the doorway looking down at her sleeping face. As expressionless as she was during the day, as cold as her emotions ran, she was much more relaxed in sleep, and after her nightmares.

Usually she would be frowning or cringing from him when he came in to wake her from a nightmare. This morning, however, she had a slight smile on her lips. He wasn't even certain it would qualify as a smile, but it was the loveliest sight he had seen in days. Even as he hoped that she would be able to sleep longer, she began to stir, and after a moment or two, she opened her eyes. Almost as soon as she did, the not-quite-a-smile disappeared from her face. Before she had a chance to see him, Charlie melted back into the shadows of the hallway, and made his way into the kitchen.

She hadn't spoken at all during that day, and Charlie began to wonder if he had imagined her voice the first time. It was the third day past the day when she spoke, and there hadn't been a word spoken since. When he talked, she would sit and listen, but she didn't respond at all, no voice, no nodding, no shaking her head. She just looked at him, those large brown eyes as empty as ever.

It was George who suggested that he begin the process to get her out of the country, and into the safe houses in America. Maybe if she saw Harry, it would help. Charlie was stalling, however. He didn't want to give her up yet, because then he'd have to be alone again, and as quiet as she was, it was preferable to the desolate silence he had when he was alone.

But George and Bill kept on him about it, and that was why he was sitting up at the kitchen table late that night, long after the other occupants of the flat had gone to bed. In front of him, he had several parchments designed to show themselves only to one of the Weasley's, or one of the select few others who helped save the victims of Voldemort. On it was a list of apperation locations that would be used in smuggling her out of the country. If all went well, she'd be safe in Harry's arms in three days time.

It was too soon, and at the same time, not soon enough. Charlie folded the paper up, and stood. He stretched out his tired cramped muscles and rubbed his tired eyes before walking down the hallway. At her room, he paused for a moment, then opened the door just slightly. She was sleeping soundly all curled up around a pillow with her cheek resting against it, and her long curly hair laying around her.

When he felt his body tensing, and felt the ache of wanting in the pit of his stomach, Charlie closed the door and shook his head before walking to the room he shared with his brothers. Not soon enough, indeed.

In the end, it was Bill who decided the when's, where's, and how's of the smuggling. One person from the group of 9 was always appointed to accompany the person over sea's to the America's. Because of the multitude of apperation points, the group spread out all over the continent. The first person would apperate with Hermione to the second person. The trade off was done lightning quick, and before Hermione would have time to blink, she would be in another set of arms, Apperating to another person. This went on until reaching the 9th person, who would then port key them to a small town in Georgia.

Harry would be waiting at that point, and there'd be a swap- Hermione for another port key, which dropped the last person back where he or she started. The entire process took only eight minutes. Now all Charlie had to do, is suggest allowing him to be the last person. All of the people knew that it was almost time to do the actual smuggling. Harry was aware someone would be arriving, he just needed to be alerted as to when.

Hermione had been her usual quiet self when told of the plans. The only difference any of them could see was her eyes. She raised her face up to look over at Charlie, and her eyes widened slightly as she watched him. He couldn't read the look, but he wanted nothing more than for it to mean she was regaining her hope. If she had that, he would be happy.