Hermione and Charlie Weasley were going back to Britain for Ron's wedding. They were leaving their three-month mountaintop honeymoon among the dragons and the people who knew them as the only Weasleys in the world. They weren't the only Weasleys, not by a long shot. And they couldn't deny it any longer.

And besides the wedding, Hermione's research stay in Romania couldn't go on indefinitely. If she never went back to work at the British Ministry of Magic, she'd never get to file her report for the white paper on ethical care of dragons.

And finally, they needed help analyzing the baby opal-eye-iron-belly's tears. Occlumency was a dying art outside of the pureblooded and wealthy and sneaky. Not even the chosen one had put in the work to learn to do it well. They needed to get back to their old Order of the Phoenix network to find Occlumens to test the tears before they could investigate their effects on Muggle memory.

"But it's going to a different sort of visit," Hermione told Charlie as she trimmed his hair at their tiny table, combing it with her fingers, looking for any singed bits. She didn't want to row with Molly Weasley about the state of Charlie's hair for a family wedding. But she would not sit quietly if Molly tried to give her beautiful husband another Muggle military cut.

Charlie sat quietly hearing her out.

"I mean," she resumed, "if we were to turn up at the Burrow and slot ourselves right back into our old spots at the kitchen table, it might not make a strong enough point about what's changed in the family. And if the fact that we're sleeping in the same room now is the one thing that's obviously different, it will make you and me seem strange and perverse. And we're not. We're lovely."

"Yeah, we're destiny," Charlie agreed.

"Right," she said. "And everyone will be able to see that better if they see us somewhere they've never seen us before. Some place completely different: my parents' old house."

The "Wilkins" had forgotten their old identities so thoroughly that they hadn't remembered to sell their house when they left the country. The interior was ransacked by Death Eaters while Hermione was on the run. When the utilities went unpaid, they were soon shut off. But the taxes continued to be withdrawn automatically from the Grangers' old account, and by the time the money ran out, Hermione was old enough to take over the payments herself. Before she'd come to Romania, the house was where she'd been living in London.

They apparated to it from the London International Port Key Authority. While Hermione ran up and downstairs, opening windows to clear out three months of stuffy early summer air, Charlie stood in the centre of the lounge, looking about as if he was in a museum.

His hands were still jammed in his pockets when Hermione returned. "Are you alright, darling?" she asked. "Are you feeling woozy? Was my apparation poorly done?"

"No, not at all," he said, reaching for the one thing he felt confident in touching here - her. "It just - well, I've been in Muggle shops and businesses, in their train stations and that kind of thing. But never anyone's house."

Her shoulders fell, her posture sagging in Charlie's arms, letting him hold her up. "It's not much, is it."

"No, it's brilliant," Charlie said. "Authentic Muggle habitat. Dad's going to lose his mind for joy when he gets here. Ron must know his way around the place by now though. Harry too, I suppose."

She bowed her head. "No, actually. I kept them away. Somehow it hurt, the thought of having them here. No one's ever seen this place. Only you."

Charlie understood, pulled her into his chest, and kissed the top of her head. "Thanks for bringing me, love."

Her voice was hoarse as she answered. "Everywhere."

She toured him through the house. He was quite taken with the light switches and the not-quite-magical electricity running invisibly through the walls, waiting to be called forth. Hermione warned him not to jab at the outlets with his wand.

The mechanical locks on the doors and windows were tricky. Hermione explained that they could also be opened magically, but he was determined to get the hang of their normal functions all the same.

The television was another fascination, of course, and he settled in quickly and not surprisingly to watching football.

"Oh, I've seen this before," Charlie said, crouching in front of the screen to get a better look. "Children do it in fields. It's interesting, I suppose, but I don't understand why whenever these grown up blokes touch each other and the ball at the same time, one of them has to fall onto the grass howling."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'll like rugby better than football. It's more like quidditch. Slower but with loads of genuine injuries. If we were in Sweden or Russia, you might be able to find some hockey to look at. It's quite a bit like quidditch, only instead of flying, they dart about on blades over ice."

He snorted. "Now you're having me on."

She shoved at his shoulder. "I am not, Charlie. It's called ice skating and it's - "

"Where's your room?" Charlie said, not interested in Muggle sports all of a sudden, rounding on her where she had sat beside him on the living room rug. He was crawling over her, and she lay back along the floor beneath him as he loomed over her on his hands and knees.

She clicked at a clunky, black, wand-like object and the television went dark and silent. "My room? My bedroom?" She linked her hands around his neck, pulling him further down. "Are you sleepy, Charlie?"

He rumbled a low chuckled against her throat. "Sure. Now where's your bed? Upstairs?"

"Yes. Aren't you clever," she wound her legs around his waist, using them to pull him even closer. "Upstairs is where you'll find my childhood bed which, frankly, I don't think is up to your - erm - fairly demanding requirements for sturdiness in a bed."

"Shame," Charlie said, his lips still on her throat, working her skin as she shivered around him.

"But my parents' old bed - "

He broke out in a laugh.

"What?" she protested. "It's not weird."

"It's a little weird."

"Oh, give over. They haven't lived here in years. The sheets don't even smell like them anymore. And it's a great bed. Very high quality, even by your exacting standards. Worthy of our - um - attention."

Charlie was laughing harder, collapsing onto her on the plush rug.

"It's not weird, Charlie!" she said, rocking underneath him. "You are the first man I've ever brought here, and in so doing, I like to think that I'm starting a new life. One that's not about a tragic past, but about me and you. The family I have now."

He leaned on his elbows, sitting up slightly to look at her, not laughing anymore but looking at her with that hungry tenderness of his. "Of course, love. A new life, the best one. Anything you want."

She ruffled his newly cut hair. "I don't need much. I'd be happy with anything as a bed - anything but spending our first night in England as a married couple getting off at the Burrow, across the hall from where I spent years of my life shagging that lanky, pasty - "

"Fine," Charlie said, one hand held lightly to her mouth. "I'm not arguing. I'll sleep wherever you tell me. I am perfectly willing. In fact," he clutched her and rolled over, lying on his back on the rug as she clung to his front with her arms and legs, "after this long day of traveling, I am absolutely gagging to sleep with you wherever and however you want."

She slapped the rug beside his head with one hand before she sat up on his stomach, smirking. "Well then, it's a good thing I Hoovered right before I left for Romania."

"You what?" Charlie asked, glancing around the room as if helpless as she pulled the edge of his T-shirt from under herself, tugged it over his head, and threw it toward the kitchen.

"No need to stand up, Charlie Weasley. We can start our sleeping tour of this house right here."

Afterward, Charlie was feeling much more at home in the dentists' house.

Hermione was in the kitchen, opening cupboard doors and muttering to herself. "Of course I can cook," she'd said. "It's just like potions and I'm brilliant at that."

He sat up on the rug and reached for his clothes, thinking of the clock in the Burrow's kitchen, and how the hand with his name on it would be pointing at "dentist" right now. Why had his father built it with a dentist section anyway? Some kind of Muggle-fan tribute. Dear old Dad.

While Hermione worked away on the Muggle kitchen equipment Charlie would figure out for himself later, he roamed the house, following a trail of photographs around the lounge, into the front hall, and up the stairs.

He didn't recognize anyone in them but soon came to see that most of the photos featured the same couple. There was a woman who held her mouth with the same prim, fastidious tension he saw in Hermione when she was trying hard to do something. And there was a man with tufty brown hair that was hardly orderly even when cut short. Charlie had a good idea what it would look like if it was grown out long.

The couple's poses were odd, off-centre, awkwardly composed, as if something had been cut out. Ah, yes. It was still shocking for him, sometimes, to come to these realizations of how formidable his wife truly was. At age seventeen, her memory alteration spell had been powerful enough to remove her image from all her parents' pictures. Bloody hell, woman.

In the hallway upstairs, out of sight, the altered pictures were different. Some of the empty spaces beside the couple were smeared with tawny brown. In some, it was little more than a smudge, as if someone had touched them with a chocolatey fingerprint. In others, the effect was stronger, and the couple was crowded by a tangle of brown, like a rowdy pet had bolted through the frame as the photo was taken.

Charlie raised his finger to touch one of the spots. These were lasting traces of Hermione's experiments with bringing herself back to her parents. She had tested her counter-charms on these photos. And so far, the results had not been good.

He returned to the kitchen, where Hermione stood scraping something vile from a plastic tub into a hole at the bottom of the sink. He embraced her from behind, his arms around her waist, stooping to kiss her jaw.

She laughed softly. "What is it now, Charlie? Are you alright? You didn't trifle with the electricity, did you?'

He didn't return the laugh but spoke into her ear. "I just missed you. So much. Promise you'll never send me away. Even if you think I'll die if you hold onto me, don't send me away."

She turned in his arms, understanding that the longer they stayed here, the more the loss of her parents became real to him. And the more it broke his heart as well as hers. Her palm cradled his cheek. "I will never make that kind of mistake again. I promise." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "Don't be too sad for me, Charlie. Remember. I don't want our new life to be tragic."

He shook his head, his nose brushing hers. "What is that awful smell?"

She gasped and turned back to the sink, running the water and turning on the motor in the garbage disposal. "Everything in the fridge has gone off. I can't cook for you tonight."

Charlie hummed. "Can you get a pizza owl in a Muggle neighbourhood?"

She laughed and squeezed him tight. "Something like that."

Three days before Ron and Gabrielle's wedding, the entire Weasley family met for a mass dinner at the Grangers' house in London. No one had been there before so the guests were to navigate by car, a whole fleet of magical cars they assumed would blend seamlessly into Muggle society.

They would not.

To keep peace in the neighbourhood, Charlie and Hermione cast silencing and concealment charms on the house and garden. Because this was a Hermione project, all the food was ready, warming in trays or chilling in the refrigerator, with a full hour to spare before any guests were expected.

"Right," she said, untying her apron and hanging it on the pantry door. "I'm ready. How are you, darling? Excited to host your first family reunion?"

Charlie pushed himself away from the counter, answering her sarcasm with cheek. "I'm a bit tired, honestly." He crossed the room and dropped his arms on each of her shoulders, joining his hands behind her head. "You know, feeling sleepy."

She closed her eyes and turned her head to rub her face against his forearm. "That won't do. Good thing we've got time for a quick sleep before anyone gets here."

He had walked her backwards, into the kitchen table. Even when the back of her legs touched it, and she couldn't walk any further, he kept advancing. "This table is much bigger than the one we have at the settlement. Don't you think?"

"It is," she said, letting herself settle back on it as Charlie leaned over her. "And I think it's sturdy enough to hold us up."

"I wonder," Charlie said, easing his torso to lie on hers, his feet still standing on the floor. "Yes, good strong construction," he murmured against her collar bone. "And out of solid hardwood."

His hands were on her thighs, pulling them up around his hips. Her eyes had drifted closed, and even if she'd opened them, she wouldn't have seen anything in the room that wasn't Charlie. Their breaths were heavy enough as he kissed her senseless on the tabletop that they didn't hear the clasp of the kitchen door clicking open. They didn't hear the stifled gasps of surprise either - nothing until someone swore.

Charlie dropped Hermione's legs and pulled her off the table, her long full skirt falling modestly back into place as he stood her in front of himself. There in the kitchen with them, having taken it upon themselves to come early to help set up for the party were Arthur, Molly, and Ron.

Charlie coughed. "Mum, Dad - hiya."

Hermione turned to cast a quick Scourgify over the table. "Hello everyone. Ron. Welcome."

Molly could only nod in reply, nearly but not quite smiling, speechless, her hands wrapped in oven mitts holding a crock of something. It was one thing to get an owl announcing Charlie was married to the once and former love of Ronald's life. It was quite another to see - this.

Ron was quiet too, red-faced and looking like he'd rather be doing more swearing.

Arthur closed his hands in a single clap. "Charlie, Hermione, welcome back," he said. "Yes. You are back, aren't you. You said you'd come for the wedding, and here you are. The two of you. A pair. Meeting us here in this truly astonishing specimen of a Muggle domicile."

Molly swatted at Arthur's arm. "Never mind the house for now, dear. Hermione," she said, coming forward with both her hands extended to take Hermione's. "My darling girl, my daughter-in-law, welcome home."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, stop," Molly said. "Call me Mum, if you like. How's that Charlie?"

"That - that's fine," Charlie said, bending to take the crock from her as she smacked a kiss on his cheek.

Charlie and his mother settled her food offering on the buffet in the dining room. Arthur stood opening and closing the refrigerator door, trying to figure out how the light was coming on and off without magic. And Ron and Hermione's eyes met across the kitchen.

She frowned at him. "What?"

"Oh, nothing at all. That's how all my brothers' families greet me," Ron replied, waving at the table.

"Look, Ronald, at this point, you have got nothing to complain about."

He scrubbed his face with his hands. "I am not complaining. I'm adjusting. Sorry. I mean," he moved to drape an arm across her shoulders and hugged her into his side, "I mean to say, congratulations, to you and Charlie. I'm sure it's brilliant. And I'll get used to it, but - it's a lot."

"Yes," she said. "It's everything to me."

He swallowed. "That's - that's good."

"Electricity!" Arthur shouted. "I know it's the electricity, I just don't know how this door summons it."

While Hermione showed Arthur the wonder of the refrigerator, Charlie was in the dining room scolding his mother for feeling like she had to cook something and fly it all the way into town.

"It's lovely of you, Mum, but it's not necessary. We've got lots. I can cook and so can Hermione."

She scoffed. "Hermione cooks like she's brewing potions, and it shows in the food. You can taste the maths."

"Mum, that's ridiculous."

"It's not. How long has she been cooking for you now? Three months? Maybe you're used to it by now," Molly said, eying the dishes steaming under their covers. "But you cannot look me in the eye and tell me her cooking is better than mine."

Charlie blushed slightly.

"What? What is it?" Molly pressed.

He sighed. "The fact is, she's never cooked for me before, nothing beyond tea and toast. We take our meals in a mess hall at the settlement. And there was no food here in the house last night so we had a man in a car bring us pizza. Today will be the first time I've really had her cooking."

For the second time in fifteen minutes, Molly was dumbfounded. "Charles Weasley, you married someone who has never cooked for you?"

"Mum, I told you. The circumstances of our marriage were strange at first. And - and what would it matter anyway? This is Hermione Granger herself I've managed to marry. The brightest witch of all time. People say that kind of thing about her, but they don't know the half of it. I'd have stayed married to her if she fed me owl pellets and swamp water for dinner every night."

Molly laid a conciliatory hand on his arm. "Charlie, dear - "

"We are lucky to even know her," he went on in a low but intense whisper. "You all met her as a child and take her for granted but - and especially after what a certain member of our family has put her through, she doesn't have to be here. I'm astounded by it, honoured - "

"As am I," Molly said, taking Charlie in her arms, stroking the back of his head as she hugged him. "I am too, my dear boy. I knew you must have been waiting all this time for someone special. And it is good to hear you defending her to the other witch in your life. Just as it should be."

Charlie sat back. "Defending her? Mum, this was some kind of test? You're seeing if I'd stick up for her?"

Molly patted his cheek. "There's a good lad. Yes, of course. I couldn't be more pleased with your wife. But," she said, "do be sure to serve yourself a nice, hearty portion of my meatballs."

Before Charlie could say anything more, Molly was calling Arthur out of the refrigerator. "Come into the lounge, dear. There's one of those televisions you like out here."

When the three visiting Weasleys were sat in the lounge, perplexed and transfixed by a football match on the television, Charlie and Hermione regrouped in the kitchen. She beat her head against his chest as he gathered her in his arms.

"Off to a roaring start," he said.

She gave a pained laugh. "The worst possible reception."

"Cheer up, love. It can't get any worse," he whispered into her face as he bent to kiss her.

He had nearly connected with her when someone was shouting from the kitchen door again. "Look at the canoodling newlyweds. It's true! It's all true."

They broke apart to see George, baby Fred in his arms, Angelina at his elbow, coming through the door. He was followed by Harry who was supporting Ginny by the arm as if she was ill.

George forced himself, baby and all, between Hermione and Charlie. "Well done, Charlie. Well done. Welcome to the family for keeps this time, Granger."

"Why are you all arriving so early?" Charlie said, palming the baby's head.

Harry cleared his throat, stepping forward to let Hermione kiss his cheek. "We assumed we'd get lost on the way and gave ourselves too much travel time. Sorry."

"No, it's fine, Harry," Hermione said, wiping the imprint of her lip gloss from his face. "I'll need you as my designated Muggle tech support with this lot today. Go through to the lounge. Ron is there already and they've probably got the telly all scrambled by now."

"Ron's come early as well, has he?" Angelina said.

George rushed to finish her thought. "Reckon he must have got the same kind of eyeful we did then."

Charlie raised a hand to swat at him, but George was quick to point out that it was bad form to strike a man holding an infant.

Hermione had expected Ginny to give her a boisterous welcome to the family, and while she tried her best, smiling and hugging, Ginny was clearly not herself.

"That's it exactly," she said when Hermione mentioned it. "I'm not just myself. I'm himself as well."

Hermione frowned. "Himself?"

A burst of energy seized Ginny and she was taking Hermione by both shoulders, glaring intently into her eyes. "Hermione, listen to me. Weasley-Prewett fertility is not to be trifled with."

"Yes, I know. But I managed it with Ron for years and now - "

"No, I need you to understand. It's bigger than all of us. Do you hear me?"

"Ginny are you saying - "

"Yes," she said, hanging her head. "I'm up the duff. Since before the wedding. I would have played another season for the elite league otherwise. But that's on hold. He should be born this winter. Nothing for it but to be happy."

Hermione squealed and hugged her, rocked side to side.

"Yes, let it out," Ginny said, thumping her back. "You and Charlie are the last to know."

When they came apart, Hermione was wiping her eyes. "I'm so happy for you. Happy for Harry, getting his family."

Ginny returned a look of alarm. "Yeah, but it's nothing to cry about."

"It's not just your little one. It's all of them. George with baby Fred. Percy on his way with Molly Junior. And then all of Bill's. It's just - so much…" She trailed off, overcome with tears again.

Ginny was feeling Hermione's forehead, as if looking for a fever, her eyes wild. "What's your basal body temperature? By the stars, we may be too late," she said. "Hermione, you and Charlie, you're not - you're not using charms as contraception alone, are you?"

She blinked. "It's all we had access to in the Carpathians."

Ginny was frantic, shaking her head. "Use a potion too. And I've heard the Muggles have tricks for it as well. Use all of those. You'll know how. Get every contraceptive you can, or you'll wind up like the rest of us."

"What, you mean deliriously happy?" Harry said, smirking as he returned from the lounge now the television was back in order.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, embracing him again. "Congratulations on your son."

Harry grinned at Ginny over Hermione's shoulder. "Still telling everyone it's a boy, are you, love? We don't actually know for sure."

"You mark my words, Harry Potter," Ginny said. "This is a dark-haired boy. The second coming of James Potter. I dream about him every few days."

"Yes, keep telling Hermione all about it. She loves divination. Big believer."

"Oh," Hermione said, letting Harry go. "That reminds me. I've come back with a burning question about a dragon-related potion. More than a question, really, a massive problem that needs solving - "

Just at that moment, Bill and his in-laws were coming through the front door. Hermione interrupted herself to dash from the kitchen to welcome them, colliding with Ron as he bolted from the sofa to greet Gabrielle. Both he and Charlie caught Hermione and steadied her as the eerily lovely Delacours came into the dentists' house.

Gabrielle had barely exchanged extremely polite pleasantries with Hermione when Ron led her through the kitchen and into the back garden.

Fleur had never been friendlier, kissing Hermione's face and pulling her into the cloud of her sweet fragrance. Bill's usual paleness was tanning in the Egyptian sun. It was handsome but Fleur was worried it would age him too quickly. This soon turned into sitting at the foot of a bookcase, researching sunscreen spells with Hermione and Angelina, sharing a few other things they was determined Hermione needed to know about being a Weasley wife.

Preoccupied by her new best friend Fleur, Hermione didn't notice Gabrielle tiptoeing back into the house to drop a hand on Charlie's arm, batting her eyes and beckoning him with one finger to follow her. She began to walk ahead of him, watching him over her shoulder, her finger now pressed to her lips, signalling for him to come quietly.

"Eh?" Charlie bawled after her. "What's all this then, Gabrielle?"

Everyone in the kitchen turned to look. Gabrielle clenched her hands into fist, tossing her head and setting aside her enticing manners, lost as they were on Charlie. "Ron would like to speak to you in the garden."

"Give 'im hell, Chuckles!" George called after Charlie as he passed through the door Gabrielle held open for him. She didn't follow him out.

Ron sat in a rickety canvas chair on a weedy patio. Charlie kicked lightly at its back leg to announce himself and nearly brought the whole thing down. Ron gasped and flailed.

"Sorry," Charlie said. "You ready to talk?"

Ron said nothing but repositioned the empty chair beside him for Charlie to fill. He sat in it as carefully as he could.

"I've been thinking about our wand," Ron began. "You know. The one we shared, but at different times."

Charlie sniffed a laugh. "The one Mum said I had to leave behind when I left home and started earning money of my own. Old Olivander assumed I lost the first one and gave me a bit of a scolding over it. Didn't bother to tell him where it actually went. Worried it might reflect badly on Dad and Mum."

Ron hummed. "Ash and unicorn hair it was."

Charlie sighed. "Good wand."

Ron looked Charlie in the face for the first time that day. "Was it?"

"Yeah," Charlie said. "Shock resistant. Never let me down. I was rather gutted when I gave it up to you. Took a full year to get used to the new one."

Ron hummed again. "You should have kept it, mate. I never did get the hang of it. Always thought of it as Charlie's old wand."

Charlie eyed the willow wand Ron was bouncing against his palm, too pliant for Charlie's liking. "Where did the ash one get to, anyways?" he asked.

"Accidentally snapped it."

"No."

"Yeah. First day of second year, crashing Dad's car. Broke almost completely in two. Just shock resistant enough to keep hanging on by a thread."

Charlie groaned a laugh. "Idiot."

"Yeah. I had to use it held together with sellotape for the rest of the year before they'd get me a new one. Ridiculously harsh punishment."

Charlie tousled Ron's hair. "For destroying my wand? Seems about right to me."

Ron stood up. "Consider it back in your care. Take it all. Fix up the damage I did, and make it do the magic only you could get out of it. That's all I wanted to say. Hope it's enough."

Charlie grappled Ron into a hug. With his face in his brother's shoulder, Ron couldn't help but smell Hermione on Charlie's clothes. He breathed it in, but said nothing of it.

No one complained about tasting maths in the meal Hermione had cooked. Everyone but Bill and Fleur's fussy toddler seemed content, and when dinner was over, Hermione sat down for a serious talk with Harry about dragon tears.

"So you see," she finished after she explained the situation, "I need an Occlumens, a Legilimens to test them, and then someone who knows about Muggles potion interactions to push my research off in the right direction. You know everyone, there must be someone."

She made her request of him and sat still, silent, not realizing how tightly she was clenching Charlie's hand as she waited for an answer.

Harry sat nodding, silent himself on the Grangers' sofa. As she waited, Hermione looked to Charlie and then to Ron who only shrugged and said, "Don't ask me. I run a joke shop."

From across the room, Bill spoke up. "Say it, Harry. You know who could help. Speak his name."

Harry fidgeted on the sofa. "No, she'd never agree to it."

"Who?" Hermione pounced.

"Harry knows who. And I think she's able to get past all that. Give her some credit. And him too," Bill said. "He did some consulting work for us at Gringotts before I left. He was competent and pleasant enough, even when he was still chafing under house arrest."

Harry shivered as if he'd bit down on something sour.

Hermione knew that reaction. "Malfoy."

Bill nodded. "Draco Malfoy and his mother are both Occlumens. He was Snape's star potions pupil. And the library at Malfoy Manor holds some rather nasty and arcane knowledge, even - "

"That's enough, Bill," Harry said, pulling at his hair. "Alright. I'm letting Hermione decide. Do you want their help? If you do, I'll pay the Malfoys a visit. But after what they did to you when Bellatrix was still alive - I'd understand if you'd rather go about this your own way."

She took a breath. Draco Malfoy's aunt had tortured her in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor while he and his mother stood by doing nothing. But she had been curious, after she read what he'd said at the trials, how both he and his mother had denounced Death Eater ideologies. Did they really mean it? Maybe they did, or just thought they did, and needed a chance like this to show they had changed.

"Let's do it," she said. "If they really believe I'm not worthless, let them show us."

Harry let out his breath. "Right. Give me a sample of your potion and I'll see to it."

"Not without me you won't," Ginny said. "I never trusted the energy between you and Draco."

The whole room groaned.

"Honestly, Ginny," Harry said.

"Pardon me." It was Percy, interrupting, standing at the foot of the stairs with a tiny, sleepy baby girl in his arms and Audrey at his elbow, giggling behind her hand. "We were just upstairs looking for a place to put Molly down for a nap, and did you know, Charlie, the bed in the centre room is completely smashed?"

Hermione's face flushed instantly red.

"Yeah, thanks, Perc," Charlie said, clipped and dry, final.

But Percy was still talking. "Looks like a rhino stamped all over it. Must have been quite forceful, whatever it was."

The rest of the room was snickering and Charlie and Hermione whispered somewhat heatedly to each other in Romanian about which one of them had been supposed to mend her childhood bed after - the incident.

"Right, Percy. I'll see to it later," Charlie said.

"Can we put Molly down in the master bedroom then? Or are all your beds smashed? Maybe you've got something else we could use. Like a solidly built table?"

"The master bedroom is fine," Hermione nearly shouted, saying whatever she had to in order to get Percy to stop. "Baby Molly is welcome to it."

Laughter followed Percy and Audrey as they went back upstairs.

"Ah, Percy," George said, his hand over his heart in tribute. "Taking the mick, as politely as you please."

Charlie groaned and pulled Hermione into his lap. "What?" he asked when she gave him a questioning look. "Apparently, we've got no secrets from these people. So we may as well be comfortable."

"Don't you know what is missing?" Fleur said. "If you'd just had a proper wedding and kissed in front of all the world, as you should do, it wouldn't be so tense and unsettled. You'd be old and boring like the rest of us, I think."

"Excellent idea, sister Fleur," George said, hopping to his feet and folding his hands like a vicar. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Charles Weasley. You may now kiss the bride."

Hermione cocked her head at her grinning husband as she sat in his lap. "Come to think of it, we never did get a wedding kiss," she said.

Applause rang out in the Grangers' living room as Charlie Weasley kissed his wife.

Hermione didn't see Harry again until the morning of Ron's wedding. He arrived later than anyone would have liked with a very tired and hot Ginny. Now that Hermione knew what to look for, the shape of Ginny's pregnancy was obvious. She didn't want to rush at the pair of them, demanding answers about the dragon tears, but waiting was excruciating.

It wasn't until after the ceremony and Ron and Gabrielle's first dance that Harry finally found her. He sat down and set what remained of the sample vial of dragon tears on the table in front of her and Charlie. Ginny fell into a chair beside him.

"Malfoy says he's sorry," Ginny began. "That's what he said to tell you, Hermione. He's sorry and with this he's done everything he can to help you. But he understands if you don't forgive him. Oh, and he's turned out gorgeous, and married to Daphne Greengrass's little sister. They were sweet together, weren't they Harry?"

He shuddered openly.

"That's all very touching," Charlie said, "but what did he say about the potion?"

"Draco and Madam Malfoy went off on their own to test the anti-occlumency effect, not surprisingly," Harry said. "Occlumency is - messy. But by the time they came back, they could report that the potion is indeed effective."

Hermione frowned anyway. "But can we trust their word about an experiment they did in private? Even if they say they're sorry - "

Harry was shaking his head. "I got the sense that they truly meant it. It felt like that time in the astronomy tower, when Draco was lowering his wand instead of attacking Dumbledore. I think we can trust him on this."

"That energy again…" Ginny muttered.

"For the love of Boggarts, Ginny," Harry protested. "I've heard enough about this fantasy of yours - "

Charlie was keen to get back on track, interrupting. "So the anti-occlumency effect of the tears does indeed suggest that our new dragon cross-breed is similar to the extinct Ural opal-eye. Its tears act the same on wizards, at any rate. Now all we've got to do is find out what they do to Muggles."

Harry was sighing again. "The Malfoys were helpful on that point too, actually. That library of theirs - it's got some rather ghastly material. Bill knows because, during the war, they moved some of the more disturbing books into their Gringotts vaults so they wouldn't be seized in the Ministry raids. And as it turned out," Harry clenched his eyes closed behind his glasses for a moment, as if clearing away another unpleasant image. "It turns out they have books that document illegal human experimentation, the risky use of magic on Muggles, through charms and potions. It's all very old - nothing the Malfoys we know would have been involved in personally, Some of it was done out of morbid curiosity, but some was done as deliberate torture."

Hermione had gone pale, clutching Charlie's hand again. "What did the books say, Harry? Tell me."

"There was a section, a rather large one on triggering madness in Muggles, including memory alteration." Harry set a second vial on the table, swirling with silvery threads. "The book was written in runes and I couldn't read it. But I looked at every page and the memory of it is here in this vial. If you get to a Pensieve, you'll see everything I did."

Hermione pocketed the vial. "Thank you, Harry. It couldn't have been easy for you."

"Oh, it was fine," Ginny said, threading her arm through Harry's even as he grumbled.

In solidarity with Ginny, Harry drank nothing at the wedding and neither did Hermione or Charlie. But still, on the morning after it was almost noon by the time Hermione woke up. Charlie had left the bed hours earlier, and as she lay blinking in the midday light, she wondered if it was him making all the racket outside the bedroom window.

She sat up slowly, dropping her legs over the side of the bed, faintly lightheaded. The book she and Fleur and Angelina had been reading together during the house party was still sitting on her nightstand. She flipped its pages, sighed, and brought her wand with her to the bathroom…

Wrapped in her dressing gown, her hair a sight, Hermione found Charlie in the back garden. He had a kerchief tied over his face, a pair of dark protective glasses on his nose, and the rest of him was covered in a fine grey dust. It was his Hephaestus look again. She wondered if she'd ever grow accustomed to it enough to not have her heart thud at the sight of him like this.

Instead of working in fire and metal today, her Hephaestus was carving stone. On the ground in front of him was a large grey rock partially chiseled into smooth curves.

He was filthy but she tucked herself between his arms, against his chest all the same. "Just had to get yourself a project outdoors, didn't you, Charlie," she said.

He set down the chisel and the wand he's been working with, tugged his face free of the kerchief and held her close. "I know it's overdue, but I finally thought of what I wanted to get you for a wedding present. And I've made a start of it here."

She looked at his work, keeping his arms around her. "Making me something? Out of stone?"

Charlie swayed as he held her, plucking off his safety glasses and stooping to rest his chin on her shoulder. "It's a Pensieve. To help with your research on the dragon tears. And, if it turns out nicely, to remain in our family as an heirloom through the ages."

She turned her face to speak against his cheek. "By the stars, Charlie. A Pensieve? Made by hand, out of rock?"

"Where did you think they came from?" he laughed.

"I'd never thought about it seriously. My family doesn't exactly have its own magic heirlooms," she said.

He smoothed her hair with his cheek. "Well, it does now."

"Thank you, darling. I was just going to visit Professor McGonagall and borrow the school's until I had the entire book read, but this," she raised his dusty hand to her face and kissed it, leaving the imprint of her lips on his knuckles. "This is like nothing anyone has ever done for me before. How did you learn to do this, Charlie?"

"I'm learning as I go," he said. "It's tricky but it shouldn't be impossible. I am something of a talented wizard, you know."

She was suddenly quiet, swallowing hard as she said. "You're not just a wizard. Not for much longer."

He turned her to face him. "What do you mean by that?"

She smiled even as she felt her eyes filling with the tears that had been coming far too easily lately. "The truth is, my beautiful, beloved Charlie, I've been making a gift for you too. Learning about it as I go."

Charlie waited for her to say more, and when she didn't, he shook his head. "What is then, love? What have you made me?"

She kissed him, his lips salty from working in the heat all morning. "Made you," she repeated. "Charlie, I've made you a father."

Charlie's eyes grew wide, and for a moment, Hermione wasn't sure how he felt. But then he lifted her off the ground and turned them in a circle, laughing and cheering. He stopped turning but still held her - held them, her and his child. She laid her hands on either side of his face and kissed him, long and sweet.

"So you're happy with this, Charlie?"

"Happy?" he said as he set her feet on the ground. "Let me explain it this way. When the Pensieve is finished, this will be the second memory I relive."

"And the first?" she had to ask.

"That will be the one In my room in the settlement, when you told me you use my name to conjure me. That was it for me. That was when I knew I'd live the rest of my life in love with you."