Chapter 4

Ginny was exhausted, though she would never admit it to her brother or her fiancé. They were still looking for a reason to send her home, and if they thought that she was tired they may have sent her to stay with Dumbledore or something. Something told her that she needed to be on this mission, and no one was going to stop her. Still, they had Apparated between seven countries and portkeyed thorough three more before the men slowed down enough to sleep. The rented one room in a Muggle Hotel, and Ginny promptly showered, flopped out on the bed she would share with Harry, and went to sleep. Harry and Charlie smiled at her, proud of the fortitude that she had shown. The pace they had kept that day had made more then one fully trained Auror wilt. Obviously, Ginny had not let herself downgrade from the peak physical training that they all kept up during the war. Harry soon crawled in next to her, and the rhythmic breathing coming from their side of the room soon told Charlie that he, too, was asleep.

Charlie climbed out of bed, unable to sleep as the ghosts of memories played through his head. He'd known her since Hogwarts, always friends but never in "that way." They stayed with the same group of friends, played Quidditch together (she was a Chaser), and went through dragon training together. She was always there, always a friend, but never really a best friend.

Until the day she walked onto the Dragon Reserve in Romania after five years in Canada, and he was assigned as her guide and flatmate. Her hair, cut so short in training because of the Fire Hazard, was now past her waist, and braided into a coronet around her head. She was in typical reserve garb, with her dragonhide trousers fitting her like a second skin. Her arms, left bare by the fitted black muggle tank top, showed off an impressive array of burn scars that just barely topped Charlie's. And her eyes… those changeable depths that could go from green to blue to gray in a fit of moodiness were flashing her blue welcome.

Charlie fell hard.

Blaze, however, did not.

She was there to observe, to find things out, and then to report back to her own reserve in the Canadian Rockies. She gave in one night right before she left, the passion between them finally released with the aid of memories and a bottle of Ogden's.

Charlie smiled to himself in the dark as he remembered.

"Blaze! I have a surprise!" 'Or at least I hope it's a surprise…' Charlie thought as he pounded his way into their flat. Their flat- he supposed it would be odd to think of it as his flat again once she left. He pushed that thought ruthlessly aside. He would deal with that when he had to.

"Down in five!" she shouted down the stairs from the direction of the bathroom. He shivered, trying to not think about the creamy flesh that was even this moment being lathered with cocoa body wash, or the miles of red blonde hair that earned her nickname fresh and fragrant with shampoo. Too late- he felt all the blood drain from his head to his lap. With shaking hands, he poured himself a shot, knocked it back, and then sat down. It hadn't steadied him in the slightest, but he had no intention of getting smashed alone. Tonight was for the past.

"You know, you really…." Blaze's eyes went wide when she saw the 40 ounce bottle of Ogden's Extra Special Old Fire Whiskey. It was her favourite, and the only type of liquor that she would permit herself to become completely inebriated on. It was also the one that she and Charlie had shared right after they finished Hogwarts, and again after Dragon Training.

"What's the occasion?" she asked curiously.

"You're internship here ends soon, and this may be the last time our nights off coincide. So I thought, why break with tradition?" Charlie hoped like hell she didn't look at that any closer, at best it was a weak excuse.

After giving him a look that said she most definitely didn't believe him, she poured herself a shot and downed it.

"Now that we're even, we need to charm the bottle. I'm assuming that you haven't?" at his headshake, Blaze cast her charm.

"How long did it take us to get that charm exactly right?" Charlie asked her as she finished.

"Never did. We never figured out how to loophole it out of sex dares." Blaze batted her eyelashes at him. "Feeling brave?"

He grinned at her, enjoying the familiar banter. "Feeling lucky?"

"More like I'm lucky that I won't be feeling a Weasley," she teased him.

"We need the others next time." Charlie said with a laugh, remembering the teasing that used to go around.

"Connie, maybe. She and Darien are getting married, did you hear?"

"I can't believe that she, out of all of us, is the one who's getting married first. That's SCARY, Blaze. And why not John? He's my best friend!"

"Charlie, you face Dragons for a living, and you find the idea of three small words scary?" Blaze said, dodging the question about her ex-boyfriend and Hogwarts sweetheart.

"Not scary, but more… intimidating."

"I call lie."

"On the count of three, two, one,"

"DRINK!" they called in unison, and then the games began.

After several shots and embarrassing dares later, Blaze had lost her shirt, PJ pants, and was sitting on the carpet with nothing but her underwear.

"For the lasht time, 'hic' Charile, I'm NOT going to go kissh Norbert!" Blaze mumbled drunkenly. The Charm 'popped', and Crimson was still sitting on the carpet… except now she was minus her bra. Once again, the blood pooled from Charlie's head to his lap.

"Ok Charlie, 'hic', Since you like them so much, I dare you to 'hic'…."

"Blaze, I get to choose!" he protested indignantly as he sat across from her. He had a sock and his boxers left, and so the blood pooling in his lap was VERY apparent. Blaze noticed and giggled.

"Ok, so choose," she said, in the same tone she would use on humouring a child.

"Truth!" he said hastily, avoiding what he was sure was going to be another foray on their next door neighbours. Thankfully he had warned them about this tradition, and they had agreed to put up with it… as long as they could join in the next time.

"Do you want to touch me?" she asked him with a naughty grin, and very little trace of the drunken slur that had been effecting her words since the third shot.

"Yes," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Then do it."

Charlie made a low growl deep in his throat, and was over to her in an instant. Scooping her up into his lap, he started to stroke her back, her neck, all the creamy skin he had fantasized about earlier…and last night…and the night before that. His rough hands moved from her smooth sides to circle underneath her breasts.

"Do you want this?" he asked her quietly.

"More then anything in my entire life," she gasped out.

"Will you still want this when we wake up tomorrow?"

"I did this morning. And the morning before that, and for weeks now" she admitted.

That was all Charlie needed. His hands moved to cup her breasts, and he began to flick his callused thumbs back and forth across her nipples. Blaze let out a low moan, and Charlie stood, still holding her in his arms. "Shall we move this somewhere more comfortable?" he asked her with a grin.

"I'm comfortable where I am. Aren't you?" she replied with a smile.

"We could be considerably more… ummph!" Charlie grunted as Blaze expertly flipped him onto his back on the floor. She cast a complicated locking charm on the doors, and then turned to her winded wizard.

"I want to christen every room of this house tonight. So that when I go, all you have to do is sit back and close your eyes, and remember. Do you think that you can handle that?"

Charlie looked at the witch holding him prisoner. Her hair was trailing down her back, the only contrast to her white skin. Her eyes were glowing, and he knew he was lost.

"I think I can handle that."

She leaned down, and touched her lips to his. He felt the firm, warm pressure, and opened his lips to allow her access. Tongue met tongue, and one kiss became more. Deeper, more desperate then any kiss should allowed. Hands began to stroke, and feel, and knead quickly heating flesh. The last barriers of clothing we removed, and they shut out the world with each other.

Hermione looked at the simple gold band around her finger with disbelief. She still couldn't quite believe that she was now Mrs. Weasley. Of course, she had expected since her third year she would be Mrs. RON Weasley eventually, but the fact that she was Mrs. Bill Weasley would take some getting used to. Then there was the odd attraction that she felt- the one that made her heat when she looked at Bill's long red hair, or the sharp blue of his eyes. And the concern for her and the baby, while annoying, still made her feel safe and cared for.

She stroked her tummy, sheltering the life she held inside her. She was afraid of the implications this would have on the baby. She would raise her to call Bill Daddy, and that was right, but would it be fair to tell the child of her real daddy? The one that died before he knew she existed? She shook her head. Not till the baby was older, and would understand. It hurt that Molly wouldn't see her grandchild. Her parents would never know that Hermione had a child. And Ron… it hurt most of all that Ron wouldn't ever know that the baby he had spoke of wanting when the war was over would be raised by his brother.

Hermione looked up from her musings. Bill was carrying the last of her stuff into the small flat they now shared. He insisted that she sit and rest, put her feet up and let him do the heavy work. While she was tempted to argue she was not a fragile flower that needed to be taken care of, she did need to sit. And besides, it was entertaining to watch him struggle with the boxes the charms had worn off of. He claimed it was easier to move them without the charms then redo the charms. Common sense ruled out for her, at least and now she was sitting, watching this handsome man who now called himself her husband. He, too, had lost his true love. He knew what it was like to be plagued with memories of the past. And he was there, with a shoulder to lean on, when she cried that bleak night after the battle when it seemed the sun would never shine again.

He was Bill, he was there, and he was hers.

She smiled, perhaps her first genuine smile since the Burrow the night before, and walked over to where Bill was surveying the small pile of boxes. All were books, and were very heavy. He kicked one with his toe, grunted, and then turned to see her standing right behind him, trying not to laugh.

"How many of those things did you bring, anyway? The entire Hogwarts Library?" Bill asked indignantly, thinking longingly of the feather-light charm he had been 'too manly' to use.

"Minus the restricted section. Those arrive by carpet tomorrow," she smiled at the horrified look on his face. And then very deliberately walked up to him, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his chest. She wasn't ready to give up Ron. He would live in her heart and mind. But at the moment, she needed comfort that she could feel, a warm body she could touch and smell. And when Bill's startled arms wrapped securely around her, she was positive that Ron, wherever he was, would approve.

Bill was startled. Hermione was holding on to him, and it was his name she spoke in that little breathy whisper as he stroked her back.. He knew, as she did, they still had a long way to go to be a 'normal' couple. His memories of Fleur had faded into something bearable over the last few years. It would take time for Hermione's memories of Ron to do the same. He still woke up, sweaty and guilty in the middle of the night after a dream of what must have been her last few minutes of life. He knew Hermione still had nightmares. It would take them a bit to work themselves together.

For now, they could concentrate on being a newly wed couple, already having had their 'holiday, working in similar fields. Bill had yet to tell her that the 'ridiculous amateur' of the attempted vocal translation was now living with her. He couldn't wait to see her face when she arrived at the tomb to be shown around by him. It would be very interesting to see what her reaction would be.

He looked at the double bed Gringotts supplied for all married couples, and wondered how THAT was going to work. It was already late in the day, they had been travelling for over 14 hours, and Bill was wiped. As Hermione had gone to sit with very little argument, he imagined that she was too. And damn it, it may not be gentlemanly, but he needed his sleep! He let go of Hermione, and she slouched back towards the chair. 'Poor girl is ready to fall over' he thought, moved by how har she was trying to stay awake.

"Hermione, is it okay if we share the bed? I'll keep to my side, but I need sleep and that couch is not comfortable for either of us. Her eyes widened a bit.

"Share the bed? Oh, I assumed we would be anyway, since it's the only one in here," she responded, looking at the bed in question.

"You won't be uncomfortable?" he pressed, not really believing her since she wouldn't look at him.

"It's all right, Bill. I just…"

"Just what?" he asked, concerned.

"Don't want to keep you awake with my nightmares,' she muttered, more embarrassed at having to admit to them then upset about sharing a bed.

"As long as you don't mind being woken up by mine, I think we'll be all right." Bill smiled at her, the same crooked have smile she'd seen on Ron's face so many times before. He was still unsure.

"It's a deal. Now, Mr. Weasley, go change. I'm going to throw on my nightgown and crawl in myself. Will it cool off any tonight?" she looked for an air conditioner before hearing "Are you witch or not!" echoing in the back of her head. She wanted to shake the memory away, but she knew that the shock had played across her face.

"The temperature drops drastically at night. We're in the desert now, love." Bill looked startled at his choice of endearments, and Hermione looked up at him and tried to smile. He wasn't sure what made him say it, he just needed to drive the haunted look off her face. Before she could comment, Bill had ducked into the other room. She changed, and wiggled her way under the sheets. When Bill came back out, she was already fast asleep.

'All to the good' Bill thought to himself. In his hand was an exhausted little owl, feathers ruffled and beaten. Some how, Pig had found them. The little owl had become the main communication between the siblings since Ron's death, and could find a Weasley faster then any other owl anywhere.

Bill smoothed the bit of parchment, the message on it written in blood.

b. f&g capt. SoS. r n b 2. hed. clen.

Bill translated it to himself, trying to find the error that would mean they were all right.

"Bill. Fred and George captured. Need immediate assistance. Ron and Blaze are here too. Brainwashing."