Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise is mine. Everyone knows that anyway don't they?
It had been Ginny who had brought them together.
His little sister with hersharp eyes and intuition, unwilling to let anything rest despite the consequences. She had seen the wayCharlie looked at Hermione and had confronted him with a truth even he had tried to avoid. He had asked, no forbidden her to say anything, but four months pregnant and increasingly irritable at having to fend off Harrys' concern and Mollys' mothering, she had not been inclined to listen. She had planned and she had plotted with a cunning even Voldemort himself would have envied. Persuading Hermione to go to the party at the Ministry had been suspicious, presenting her with the beautiful black dress as "an early Christmas present" had been downright blatant. Charlie had found himself ordered upstairs to fetch her by a smirking Ginny, who had suddenly decided the stairs were too much of an obstacle for someone in such a "delicate condition." Wearily knocking on Hermiones' door he had found her struggling to tame her hair into some sort of chignon, her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed with impatience. Utterly, irrefutably and unquestionably beautiful.
"Do I look alright?" Frowning at her reflection she had seen the look on his face and laughed. "It's just a dress Charlie, I'm not trying to outshine Fleur."
"You don't have to," he had blurted out the words before he had time to stop them.
Hermione had paused at that, and Charlie had found himself wildy overcompensating for the thoughtless comment. "Between Fleurs' ego, Percys' self importance and Ginnys' tummy, it's going to be difficult to fit us all around the table come Christmas time as it is. We don't need another diva in the house."
"How do you know what a diva is?" Tucking a strand of hair behind her earshe had watched his reaction carefully, brown eyes curious. "I thought that was a muggle expression."
"You've never heard of Serafina Vandeguard?"
Rolling her eyes good naturedly she had wandered over, so close he could smell her perfume. "Not every Hogwarts student grows up in a magic friendly household remember?"
"Famous singer from the last century, once turned an entire orchestra into teapots because they played out of tune."
"Really?"
"Yep."
She'd laughed at that, kissing his cheek briefly as she slid past him and descended the stairs.
"Hermione." Say something flattering he had thought in panic, tell her how beautiful she looks.
Turning and looking at him enquiringly the light from downstairs turned her hair into a copper halo, and everything he had meant to say fled from his mind.
"Have a nice time."
The hours before they returned had dragged with such interminable sluggishness that Charlie found himself wishing no fewer than fifty seven times for a time turner. Reading was hopeless, the rain drumming on the windows vetoed any thoughts of going for a walk, and sleep remained as stubbornly elusive as the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. Why hadn't he told her how he felt? Shifting awkwardly on the bed, he had listened to the storm outside and invented ever more worrying scenarios. Harry and Ginny were too preoccupied with each other to look after Hermione; what if someone tried to take advantage of her? What if she got lost, or hurt, or… eaten by a dragon? The possibilities were endless, and knowledge that he was being utterly ridiculous had not come as much comfort.
In truth the trio had returned fairly early. Ginny tired easily and neither Harry nor Hermione had taken much pleasure in the celebrity status given them after the final battle. Listening with relief as the trio bid each other goodnight, Charlie had waited for the familiar sound of Hermiones' footsteps to pass his door, the click of her latch that would let him know she was safely back home. It had not come.
Even now, so many months later it still seems like some sort of dream; the knock on his door, her tentative apology for disturbing him.
In the flickering candlelight she had pulled her dress over her head and hesitated, shy and trembling in the faint light, the heavy chestnut hair falling over her face and hiding her expression.
"Hermione?" Caught between wonder and terror he had said the first words that came into his head. "Are you drunk?"
She had looked at him aghast, cheeks flushing with mortification. Grabbing her dress from the floor and stumbling in the unfamiliar high heels, it had only been a hasty spell to seal the door shut that stopped her from fleeing the room.
"Wait." Scrambling out of bed with far more haste than elegance he had grabbed her arm and pulled her back before she could reach for her wand. "I didn't mean… this is.. .do you know what you're doing?"
"I'm sorry, I thought…" Her voice had been hesitant, thick lashes hiding her eyes, muscles tensed beneath his fingers.
"Oh bloody hell Hermione." How on earth was he supposed to have resisted her? The whole situation had been hopeless from the start. Her breath tickled his neck, her rigid posture relaxing as he ran his hands down her back. She had seemed to blaze when he touched her; embers banked low awakened with each touch, each kiss. Her hair was cool and silky as he pulled her head towards him, her mouth hot and insistent. The wraith of a thousand half remembered dreams suddenly sweet and soft and all too real beside him. Everything he had ever wanted.
That had been the first night; the first time they had woken sweat slicked and sated in each others arms, the first time he had watched her open her eyes blearily and bury her head in his chest, giggling in embarrassment. Two months on she came to him each night, and if Molly finds it odd that Hermiones' sheets remain uncreased and obviously unslept in, she says nothing. Her wedding band lies on her dressing table, removed but not discarded. Ron was too much a part of both their lives to be forgotten, and Charlie knows that there is a part of Hermione that will always belong to her first love, just as a part of him will forever mourn his younger brother. That is how it will always be, and perhaps that is how it should be.
They have told no-one yet. Hermione is wary of upsetting his parents, and the birth of Fleur and Bills' first child has caused enough disruption for the time being. It is only a matter of time however. Ginny and Bill have both already guessed, and the spectacularly unsubtle hints Tonks dropped when she and Lupin last came to dinner mean that their love will not remain a secret for long. Watching as Hermione teeters on a stool in attempt to decorate the top of the Christmas tree, managing to drop more tinsel on Ginnys' head than the branches, he catches her eyes and smiles. Whatever the future will bring they will face it together. In the still, silent hours of the night there is only one woman he holds close, and only one name she whispers in the darkness.
A/N I meant this to be a one shot, but reading it back I wanted a happy ending so I wrote one… Shameless fluff I'm afraid! Should I have left it as a one chapter story? Let me know if so and I'll change it back.
Thanks Kranbaree, aglaia, Luthien and Moony4Moony for the reviews, very much appreciated.