AN: Here it is, all done. Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews and faves. ❤❤❤❤
The iron-belly dragon came rampaging through the dark woods on the night his little mate went to their nest to lay their egg. All of his instincts raged at him to break through the wards keeping him outside her enclosure, to protect her and their offspring. He was thrashing his body against the magical barrier, tearing at it with his teeth and claws, roaring fire at it. Either he would break through and wreak havoc on every human inside, or he would dash himself against the wards until he was unconscious, or maybe worse.
Charlie was on his feet in front of the tent where he and Hermione had camped for the night, his eyes darting between the pair of howling, flaming dragons, both of them furious but also in danger. If he could only save one, it would have to be Ela, the opal-eye. While she was still gravid, she was more like two dragons than one, and her egg might hold a creature that could restore the Grangers' charmed memories. He rushed to the nest of broken trees and roots, looking for footholds to climb into it to soothe Ela with a spell, to get her to stop straining so she wouldn't injure herself as she laid her egg.
Hermione understood and moved to run to the Iron-belly, not knowing how she could work a spell to soothe him without slashing open the wards and having him rush in on them with fury and destruction.
Without having to see her go, Charlie sensed her reaction to the Iron-belly's danger and stopped his climb, shouting back at her over his shoulder. "Hermione, no. You can't handle a raging Iron-belly on your own."
"I can't just stand here - "
"You have to. You saw what he did to me this morning, and he wasn't even angry then. If it hadn't been for Bogdan - "
"Then call him. Call Bogdan! Where's your coin?"
"Too unreliable," Charlie said, finishing his clambering up the side of the nest. "Just wait." From where he stood on the edge of the nest, and with a shout and a flourish, he produced a Patronus. It wasn't a weasel. It wasn't a dragon either but something mythic all the same, breathing cool white silvery fire as it bounded once around the nest and galloped off through the woods toward the settlement on four massive, feline legs.
It took a moment for Hermione to understand what she was seeing. "Chimera," she said, aloud but breathless.
Charlie's patronus had the body of a lion and three heads: the fire breathing lion's head, a goat's, and at the end of its tail, a snake's. Leave it to Charlie to not be able to settle on just one animal, even in his purest magic. His chimera was off to deliver a message to Bogdan, spoken in Romanian he could understand.
Hermione couldn't stand in place wondering at it for long. The Iron-belly still crashed and wailed, making the usually gossamer wards flash starkly visible with green light in the dark forest. She'd lost sight of Charlie as his head disappeared inside the nest. Ela's frantic, fiery howling had subsided, fading into loud, mournful cries that were pathetic as they were terrifying.
Hermione was all but alone - for now. In a moment, the Iron-belly would be with them. The flashing in the wards had taken on a shaking, stuttering rhythm, like a fluorescent lightbulb about to burn out.
She clenched her wand, climbed onto a stump to make herself look bigger, and braced for the dragon's entrance. Somehow, she would fight to subdue it, to protect Charlie from it, perilously positioned as he was between the Iron-belly and its family.
Then there was shouting behind her. It was Bogdan arriving on a broom, calling to her in Romanian, repeating a single word over and over.
"Bogdan, slower. I don't understand - "
He called the word out one more time, flinging his wand arm toward the Iron-belly. The flashing in the wards slowed its irregular stammer as a stream of red magic shot from his wand. He waved his free hand at Hermione. And she understood just as well as if he'd spoken in English: get your wand up and say the word, the incantation. This is the spell. She did as he said, joining her stream with his, hollering a spell in an old Dacian dialect no one but casting wizards used anymore. Bogdan cheered, his head thrown back.
After a moment the wards were almost steady, flickering only slightly, but still visible, green with failing light. It was working. Hermione glanced at Bogdan, laughing. He nodded as he took a step closer to the dragon. She moved to follow but he raised his hand, holding her back as he continued his advance on the Iron-belly.
After catching its breath, the dragon had renewed it's thrashing attack on the barrier. All at once, Hermione knew. They weren't stopping the dragon. They were merely holding it, and they wouldn't be for much longer. Between the red glow of the wizards' magic and the green flare of the wards was a spot of white light. The wards were already breached. The dragon was coming.
Bogdan approached the creature all the same.
"Bogdan, no," she said. "Wait! Wait until Charlie finishes in the nest. He'll come help us. No."
He was ignoring her though, like her, he must have known exactly what she meant to say whether it was in his own language or not.
"Bogdan, wait!"
They weren't alone anymore. Two other figures had appeared, coming out of the darkness behind them, their wands lit. The first one, tumbling to the ground as she dismounted a broom, but springing up unhurt, was Doamna Marius. She looked as she always did, frail and ancient. But in her movements, all signs of her age were gone. She stood between Hermione and Bogdan and added her red stream to theirs.
The old crone's sudden appearance was surprising but Hermione accepted it, grateful. What was harder to fathom was the identity of the fourth person to add a stream of magic to the spell Bogdan had begun. Hermione recognized the man's face as he stepped into the light. It was Marius, the man she'd been told was a squib. He was suddenly magically powerful, standing taller than she'd ever seen him, and giving the spell the push it needed to lay the Iron-belly flat on its back, stupefied.
As the creature fell, Bogdan rushed forward, sealing the rift torn into the wards. He collapsed to his knees, panting. Marius and Doamna Marius hurried to see to him. He still had strength enough to hold Marius by the legs, shouting up at him, batting at the wand in his hand. No doubt he was demanding an explanation.
For a moment, Marius said nothing. Doamna Marius was rooting through the pockets of her worn calico apron. She found a flask and passed it to her son, letting him swig from it before clawing it back to drink from it herself.
Bogdan released Marius's legs, falling back to sit on the ground. Even through his clothes, Hermione could see Marius's body pulsing, swelling and shifting. It was familiar. She'd seen it before. She'd seen it in herself.
"Polyjuice," she said.
Bogdan knew it too, and he rose to stand beside her, his wand raised in defense, not knowing who the imposters might be.
But Hermione was no longer afraid. In front of them, where Doamna Marius and her son had been just a moment before, stood Bill and Fleur Weasley.
She made a noise between a cheer and a sob as she recognized them.
"Where's Charlie?" was what Bill said by way of greeting.
Bogdan gestured to his own hair, then at Bill's. "Weasley?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Weasley. This way, Bill."
She led them to the nest, Bogdan already scrambling up ahead of her. He reached the top of the ridge first, raising a hand again to hold everyone back.
Below them lay a massive grey egg, streaked with red dragon's blood. Ela's tail was tucked around it to keep it warm, but it lay in a limp way that made it look as if it had been Charlie who had arranged her this way. He stood at her head, his hand on her snout, stroking her scaly face with firm, sure strokes. Beside him, the dragon's chest rumbled like a bad combustion engine. Over its rattle, Charlie crooned softly to her, praise and comfort.
Hermione couldn't tell if Bogdan was swearing or praying but his heart was clearly broken. Charlie looked up at the sound, light flashing off the haze of tears over his eyes. From his position, he saw four human outlines in the dark. He was expecting Bogdan and Hermione and beckoned them down into the nest.
"Lean on the egg," he told the four of them, hardly glancing away from the dragon. "Opal-eyes hatch quickly after laying. Almost like they're viviparous. Keep it warm. Help her."
Without a word, the four of them pressed their bodies to the egg, Charlie stayed at Ela's head. Time passed in a miserable tense silence, as they stood listening to her slow, pained breath, no one speaking a word.
At last Bill said, "How long do you reckon until the other one wakes up?"
Charlie's head snapped up. "Who said that?"
"Charlie, it's me," Bill answered. "We've been here since before Hermione came, staying with Marius. Fleur is here too."
"What - "
"Never mind it for now," Bill said. "Just let me know what needs to happen to keep Mr. Dragon from bursting in here."
Charlie shook his head. "Bogdan will know." Words passed between Charlie and Bogdan in Romanian until they both seemed satisfied.
Low as all the voices were, at the sound of them, Ela stirred, her body shifting, moving the egg and all the humans pressed to it.
"Steady, Ela darling," Charlie said.
Hermione could hardly look at him, but she couldn't look away either. Had she thought earlier today that she loved Charlie Weasley? She must have but it was a modest love compared to how she felt about him now, as he knelt by a dragon head the size of her torso, willing strength and health into the beast with his care for it.
"Charlie, what can we do for her?" she said.
"Just wait," he said. "I hit her with spell after spell to prevent her prolapsing during delivery. I don't think she could take any more right now."
His voice was a low monotone, scared but grave. Hermione's chin quivered and she might have begun to cry if Fleur hadn't let out a chirp and jumped backward, away from the egg. On the shell, beneath where she'd been leaning, a crack was forming. Bogdan gasped and pulled everyone away, pointing to the upper rim of the nest, motioning for them all to climb out. He came last himself, glancing over his shoulder, shouting.
"Weasley!"
Charlie glanced up at him and back at Ela. A second crack was etching through the shell of the dragon egg. No one knew for sure what was coming out, just that whatever it was would be ravenous for a first meal. It wouldn't be safe for any of them to be near it until it had eaten its fill of raw meat.
"Charlie, come on out," Bill said. "If you think I won't go back in there to get you even if it eats us both alive, you've got another thing coming."
He believed him, and it was enough to send Charlie climbing out, slowly, as if he was suddenly very heavy. Bill and Bogdan hauled on his wrists to boost him up onto the rim. Hermione ducked underneath his arm to hold him up. She caught him with her hand against his heart.
Together, the five of them watched as the cross-breed baby dragon revealed itself. Shards of broken egg fell away, like the shattering of a huge ceramic urn. It crackled and squeaked apart until the newborn creature lay curled in the fragments. Bogdan turned up the light from his wand, tracking to where everyone assembled was most interested: to its eyes. Its lids were low, the wet corneas beneath barely visible. The baby crept along Ela's body, to the warm spot over her heart.
Ela was weak, fading, but her instincts were strong. She tucked her long neck against herself, and the end of her snout came to rest against the baby's face. It nuzzled into her, testing her impenetrable hide to see if it could eat her, settling back into her warmth when I knew it couldn't. Slowly, Ela's pointed tongue slipped from between her jaws and licked the last of the yolk from the baby's face and back, its long spiny tail and papery wings.
Fleur uttered a delicate little sob and hid her face in Bill's shoulder. "Oh, it's trying so hard to mother the little monster. It's too much. How can we bear it?"
In its mother's care, the baby dragon uncoiled itself, its eyes blinking, widening.
"Opal-eye," Charlie said, his breath rushing out in relief.
Bogdan elbowed Charlie in the arm, speaking with low, quiet enthusiasm. Charlie nodded, slowly at first, gaining speed.
"Da?" Bogdan said.
"Da," Charlie agreed.
Hermione let go of him and crouched on the top of the nest, peering inside it. "What's happening, Charlie? Ela - her tail, her neck - the muscle tone is returning. It looks almost as if..."
"Yes," he said. "I'm not sure, but I think the baby's yolk might be restorative. It can serve as another dragon-borne potion sometimes, especially between dragons of different breeds. And these two might be just different enough to - " He stopped. "Listen! Listen to Ela's breathing!"
The bad engine sound was clearing, becoming more like an efficient burn, less like a rattle.
Bogdan hopped down from the nest, back into the forest, trotting toward the tent to where Charlie had left the pack containing the baby's first meal.
"Right," Charlie said once Ela's breath found its rhythm. "She looks like she's coming out of it thanks to the baby's yolk. If Ela doesn't need us any more tonight, we can leave. We should leave. And once we do, there's no more reason to keep the Iron-belly out. Bogdan and I will feed the baby. Ela too, if she'll take anything. Hermione love, can you clear the campsite?"
"Of course."
"Good. When you're all clear, we'll open the wards, and let him through. And then, Bill - then I think the four of us will have some air to clear."
At the settlement, the Weasley brothers and their wives sat in Charlie's room. The real Doamna Marius and her son had met them there, laughing now that the trick had been revealed, hugging everyone, congratulating them on the safe arrival of Ela's hatchling.
Doamna Marius was positively doting on Fleur, stacking pastries on the table for her to nibble at. Who could fail to love a beautiful girl who had troubled herself to learn Hungarian to rebel against her boring English lessons?
But there was still coldness between the old witch and Hermione. Her suspicions that Doamna Marius had let the Iron-belly into Ela's enclosure in the first place were stronger than ever. And what any of it had to do with Bill and Fleur was still a mystery, leaving her uneasy.
When the four of them were finally alone, Bill took a deep breath, and Fleur settled into his lap as he began. "Gringotts," he said. "This trouble with the dragons is all down to Gringotts. I found out they'd sent a team here to breach these wards when I was working late one night in an anteroom to the newly repaired boardroom. Apparently, it still needs its silencing charms cast manually. Well, someone forgot and I got an earful."
"Goblins did this?" Hermione asked, disbelieving. "Are you sure, Bill? They're blamed for so much. So often it's hardly fair - "
"No, I said Gringotts, not goblins. The bank's board of directors has more wizards than goblins when you get to the top. It reads rather like a roster of old Death Eater ranks. You know the families," Bill said, pausing to sniff Fleur's hair. "The war, You-know-who - it was never about purity for most of the Death Eaters, just money. That hasn't changed."
"What about the dragons?" Charlie pressed.
"Well, that all springs from the new regulations on Veratiserum," Bill resumed. "It's a controlled substance now, making it hard for the bank to get hold of enough of it to do business like they're accustomed to. Employee fraud and theft are huge problems, and a dose of Veratiserum and a stern questioning were part of the daily routine for anyone working below ground at the bank."
Hermione was frowning. "So looking for a Veratiserum replacement, someone found out about the old, obsolete dragon anti-occlumency potion and wanted to use it to interrogate bank workers instead?"
Bill tipped his head back and forth. "Well, yes and no. Once the bank's board learned about the anti-occlumency potion, they could see how it could be applied more broadly than to just keeping the help honest."
Fleur took it over. "They weren't happy just to keep the riches they had. No, no. They wanted to use the dragon potion to get more."
Charlie was nodding now. "Yes, with that potion, every password, the location to every hidden treasure trove, every secret household vault would be one clumsy bout of legilimency away from being revealed to whoever had a supply of it. The only thing keeping the bank from all of that would be the pesky fact that the Ural opal-eye supply of it is currently extinct - "
"But not if the bank could help it," Bill smirked. "Some clever capitalist remembered the little New Zealand opal-eye that flew off during the war. They were furious all over again to have lost her, and while I listened through the door, they congratulated each other on their collective vow not to take it sitting down anymore. Especially not when they knew exactly where their former guard-dragon had found refuge."
Hermione was grumbling. "So they didn't have the cheek to demand Ela back, but they felt justified in risking her life by sending a vandal down here to slash the wards and cross her with the dragon who might produce the offspring they wanted?" Her voice had risen to the level of a shout as she'd spoken. "That is absolutely horrendous. And they don't even know if this new baby's tears will work as an anti-occlumency potion. How could they gamble like that?"
Bill shrugged. "They already lost control of the dragon. Figured they had no more to lose."
She shivered. "Awful."
Fleur tossed her head. "Aren't you and Charlie a pair. Fussing over animals this way."
Bill hushed her, speaking to her nose-to-nose. "Darling, that dragon saved Hermione's life during the war. You remember."
"Oh, I forgot that," she said, kissing Bill lightly on the mouth before turning back to Charlie and Hermione. "She had better be a special beast. Do you know what Bill did when he heard the awful people of the bank say all of this? No, you don't. He told them 'no.' Stop! They threatened to sack him if he didn't keep their secret but he didn't care, did you Bill? That night, he fought his way out of the bank while they chased him with memory modifying spells. He escaped to tell the Aurors and, as you can see, the awful Gringotts people never came back here. They are so watched and pestered now, they can't."
Charlie and Hermione were stunned to hear it. "Bill," Charlie stammered, "that's all very - thank you."
"Yes, well…" Bill trailed off.
"And you left the bank?" Charlie marveled. "On bad terms?"
Bill smirked. "The worst. But it's alright. I never loved the bank, just the rare coworker I found there," he said, brushing the end of his nose against Fleur's cheek. "The kids are old enough for all of us to go abroad now. So I've got a new situation in Egypt starting soon."
Charlie was taken further aback. "Well - that's brilliant. Mum's sure to hate it but - "
Fleur groaned into Bill's neck. "Go make your mother happy yourself then, Charlie Weasley."
"Where are your kids right now, anyway?" Hermione interrupted. "Polyjuiced somewhere around here too?"
"No, at the cottage with Ronald and Gabrielle," Fleur said. "It's the least they can do, after all."
"I still don't understand," Charlie said. "Why didn't you just tell me who tampered with the wards as soon as you knew, Bill? Why disguise yourselves as Marius and his mother and sneak around for days?"
Bill and Fleur exchanged looks, slow grins, almost wicked.
"And now we come to the good part," Fleur said. "Now, my sister, she is very bad. But so is your brother," she said, raising one finger to point at both of the Weasleys.
Bill was agreeing. "Hermione, you must know we never would have brought Gabrielle into the country if I'd known it would end your engagement - "
"Stop," she said. "I appreciate your goodwill, Bill. But it was better I found out about Ronald's - weaknesses last year rather than well into a marriage with children and whatnot. As your mother would say, you did me a great favour."
"Favour," Fleur echoed. "Well, then maybe we didn't go to all this trouble for you. Maybe we did it for ourselves, to feel better about what happened. A broken heart is like a death. We all feel the sorrow. You are a formidable woman, ma soeur, and you did not deserve to be treated as you have been by Ronald and Gabrielle."
"Thank you, Fleur, but - gone to trouble? What trouble?" Hermione pressed. "What exactly did you do for me?"
Bill chuckled, sounding almost like Charlie. "Well, since I'm between jobs, and what with us leaving for Africa soon, we wanted to set things right before we left. Make amends. Sweep things clean. And so, while we did indeed come to the settlement, hiding from Gringotts, intent on seeing that the breach in the wards was discovered, and that the dangerous cross-breeding was detected, that wasn't the only reason. We wanted you to have a fresh start too, Hermione."
"But," Fleur added, "with someone cold and frozen to Veela mystique."
Charlie startled in his seat, the wooden kitchen chair creaking. "What?"
"Watch me," Fleur said, hopping out of Bill's lap. She stood with her eyes closed, as if gathering energy. When she opened her eyes the air in the room was different, thick. She walked in a slow circle around Charlie's chair, letting her hand drift entrancingly, enticingly down to his shoulder, dragging her fingertips across his back and collar bones as she circled, her chin tipped alluringly, her blazing eyes fixed on his face, a sway in her walk.
Bill held his stomach, staring at her, forcing himself to stay seated, not interfering though his expression was somewhere between angry, sick, and smitten.
Hermione was tensing herself, her eyes narrowing, fingers curling in her lap.
Of everyone in the room, Charlie seemed the most unfazed. He raised one eyebrow. "Whatcha doin,' Fleur? You alright?"
She gave an exasperated sigh and snatched her hand away from his shoulder. "See, he's useless. Some men are. I'm shocked to find one in my own husband's family but - you saw him, Hermione. Charlie doesn't respond to me. He sees me as a magical creature, as work, research, and he'd no sooner run away with me than with a pigeon."
"Pigeons are lovely," Charlie said as she walked away. "Very intelligent. And sociable."
Fleur had made a tender offering: her pride. It hurt her to admit Charlie didn't want her at all, and she sat down in Bill's lap again to comfort herself. He clamped his arms around her waist and sunk his chin into her shoulder.
"Right. So you came here to match me up with Charlie?" Hermione said.
"Yes, obviously," Fleur agreed. "I give you back what my family took from you. Here is the Weasley husband you wanted since I met you as a young girl. This is a better one for you. Take him."
Charlie was holding his head. "So that marriage rite in the mess hall. That was performed by you, Fleur?"
"Oh no," Fleur said. "I have no authority to perform marriages. That was the real Doamna Marius. She has helped us all along. And you are truly married to this magnificent woman, Charlie. But just in the Carpathians. If you both want to be married everywhere, you must sign this." From her Doamna apron, she produced a parchment with two blank spaces at the bottom, room for each of their signatures. "Sign it and stay together. Or one of you can leave this region and it will be over. The choice is yours now."
"The potion from the cross-breeded dragon's eyes is yours too," Bill said as Fleur stood up, tugging at his hand to join her. "If it can help your Muggle parents, Hermione, I hope you won't hesitate to use it."
"Yes, discuss your future. Decide on it. Make your plans," Fleur said as she walked with Bill to the door. Her hand was on the doorknob when she turned for a final word. "And after your plans are made, make love to your wife, Charlie. She has been waiting too long."
With that, the door closed and Charlie and Hermione were alone.
Hermione stood up, leaving her chair to cross the room to where their packs still lay on the bed. She was doing what she always did to cope when she was anxious, taking control of her environment, this time not by packing, but by unpacking. "Oh, I do hope I didn't leave my bag by the nest," she was saying. "I'm sure it's in here somewhere. I'll find it and - "
"Can you believe that sister-in-law of mine?" Charlie was ranting. "Ordering us around like that, as if she hasn't interfered enough - "
Hermione found her bag and pulled it free of the pack. "Here it is," she said, turning back to face the centre of the room. "I can - "
Charlie was standing now, stepping toward her. "I'm through submitting to Mrs. Bill's manipulation," he said.
He was close now, standing in front of Hermione as, once again, she agonized over whether to leave this room or not. They'd been played by his family. Now they knew. But she didn't know what to say to him. Her fingers clawed her bag and her voice fell to a husky whisper. "Charlie, I - "
"Say it again," he whispered back, his fingers clenched around her wrist, their imprints rough and hot.
"Charlie?"
He pulled her close, both his arms around her, her feet lifting off the floor.
"Charlie."
She dropped her bag and slid her open hands over his shoulders, reclaiming him from that Veela's touch. "Charles Prewett Weasley - " She voiced a gasp as he kissed the base of her neck. "Charlie."
He spoke into her ear. "You can tell Fleur, I'm not waiting until after we've made our plans. If you'll have me, Hermione, I'll love you before all of that. I'll love you now."
She was relieved enough, happy enough to make a sound almost like a laugh against his throat. "Yes, Charlie."
"Yes, Charlie what?" he said as he set her feet back on the ground but continued to hold her. "Yes, you'll stay married to me? Here and everywhere?"
She barely left off kissing his jaw to say, "Everywhere, Charlie."
He hummed, satisfied, turning them in a circle where they stood. "And you're not staying because of polyjuice tricks, or dragons, or your parents, or mine, or Ron, or my Veela immunity, or - "
"No," she said. "Just because I love you." She leaned away to see him. "But all those things are part of you, and so I love them too."
He turned faster, almost in a spin. "Love you," he whispered in answer as they moved.
"Are we dancing, Charlie?" she said. "If we sign that paper, that makes this like a second wedding day for us. Is this our wedding dance?"
"I suppose it is," he said, his hand inside her jumper again, on her back, her spine arching to bring him closer. "We've danced at a wedding before, haven't we?"
"Just once," she said, stepping lightly on his feet with hers. "When I was barely of age and you were - perfect."
He had stopped moving, holding still to gaze at her upturned face. "I remember," he said. "Of course I do."
She laid a hand on his cheek, and spoke his name again. There it was, just as it had been as they leaned over a table in the library, the proof that even though Charlie did not respond to Veelas, it did not mean he was not capable of response.
Her hands found the bottom of his jumper and pulled it up, over his head and his raised arms. As she dropped it to the floor, she was already burying her face in his chest, in the light fuzz of ginger hair across his sternum and muscles. His breath was shaky, hungry as he palmed the back of her head and turned toward his bed, sinking on top of her. She lay back in the pillows as he kissed her face and mouth, as he descended along her neck, his hands on her, mirroring every touch she had given him.
She was trembling as he kicked the packs off the end of the bed and tugged the blanket free, covering himself and her with it as if her bare skin wasn't burning, and might get cold.
"Charlie," she said as he came closer to her, closer, closest.
No one came to rouse Charlie for work in the morning. The Iron-belly kept watch over its new family, and Charlie stayed with his. Hermione awoke with his face pressed against her back,the satisfying scratch of his whiskers on the skin between her shoulder blades. She purred and stretched and Charlie's arms tightened around her. In the sunlight, she could see them, Charlie's beautiful arms draped around her body.
"Still mine," he murmured into the nape of her neck.
She turned to face him, her colour rising. "Everywhere."
He growled another hello into her collarbone.
"You know," she said, "not even Harry Potter has a magical creature for a Patronus. Dumbledore, yes. But he's the only one I know."
Charlie smirked. "You liked the chimera then?"
"Yes," she said, her fingers in his hair. "Very much. Though not as much as some of your other hidden talents..."
After a while, they talked some more, planning as Fleur had said to. That they would extend their Carpathian marriage to the entire globe was settled, but there were details to discuss. Hermione would finish the Ministry white paper at the sanctuary, staying in Romania while they tested the properties of the baby dragon's tears. If they got a good result, they would go on leave, to Australia, after her parents. If not, they would continue to look for a reversal to the memory charm somewhere else.
"Speaking of parents," Charlie said, propped himself on one elbow, looking at her hair spread like a sunburst all around her, smoothing it with his fingers.
"Yes, once we are parents, we should definitely name our first son Bogdan Marius Weasley," Hermione finished for him.
Charlie laughed. "Yeah, alright. Anything but Malfoy."
"Was that not what you were going to say?"
He kissed her cheek. "No, actually. I was going to say we should probably report this to Mum. Definitely before Fleur does."
Hermione let out an immense sigh. "Molly's going to think I'm a slag, working my way through her sons."
"Nonsense. She'll be nothing but delighted," Charlie corrected her. "Do you know how many kids my dad had by the time he was my age? More than most people get in two generations, that's how many. At age twenty-nine, Mum would be happy if I owled home to say I married a Hippogriff."
Hermione huffed. "A hippogriff?" She shoved Charlie's arm off of her stomach and back at him. "A hippogriff. Thank you, darling."
"Oh, no. It's 'darling' again is it? No more 'Charlie?'"
"No, you have to earn that. Darling is free."
"I'm sorry, love," he said, gathering her against himself again, his face in her hair. "You're not my hippogriff. Nothing like one. Except that you deserve to be bowed to."
She smoothed his hair. "Seriously, Charlie. You are right. We will eventually have to face all of them in Britain."
"You say it like it might not be nice," he said. "It will be."
"What if they make us get a wedding tent?" she said. "You know, a do-over since they missed our Hungarian mess hall ceremony. And what if they did it up with party favours from the joke shop? And one of your mother's wedding haircuts for you? And between me and Arthur and Percy half the deadly dull Ministry staff turns up to snooze along in their folding chairs?"
He laughed into her shoulder. "Right. Let's just stay here. The family can come see us if they want to, but they won't."
"It's not that I don't want the Weasleys as my family. I do. I always have. When we do see them again I'm sure it will be lovely but - What I want more than anything is a different kind of Weasley family." She held his jaw between her hands, tipping his forehead against hers, and speaking into his face. "I want this one."