A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I hope 2019 is your best year, yet!
xx-Kitten.
Home for the Holidays
By Kittenshift17
Chapter Two
"You want another drink, Hermione?" Charlie asked her hours later when dinner and pudding had been devoured and the children had been put to bed.
Hermione blinked sleepily, having been steadily necking glasses of wine as she reached for a little Dutch courage to try and lure the handsome Dragon Tamer into conversation. Or her bed. Whichever came first, really.
"I'd love one," she confessed with a nod. "Do you need a hand carrying them all?"
Charlie grinned.
"I can levitate them all if you're too tired or don't want to get up, love," he offered.
Hermione smiled, supposing that was true even as she got to her feet. She wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to speak to him alone in the kitchen, even if it was only for a few short minutes while they fixed everyone another round of drinks.
"I'll give you a hand," she said, slipping past him and into the kitchen.
She pointedly ignored the wide smile on Fleur's face and the knowing smirk on Ginny's. Both witches had clued onto her interest in Charlie last year when he'd arrived late, showing up Christmas Day rather than Christmas Eve, causing both Hermione and his mother to drink themselves sloshed with worry. She listened to the heavy tread of Charlie's boots as he followed her away from the noise of the living room and into the kitchen.
"So, how've you been, Hermione?" Charlie asked conversationally as he began seeking out various alcohol bottles from the cabinet above the fridge. "How's life been treating you?"
Hermione smiled, accepting the bottles he handed her when he began pulling them out of the cupboard, apparently intent on mixing some kind of potent cocktail for his family.
"Oh, you know. Not too bad," Hermione shrugged. "Though I'm pleased it's finally the holidays."
"Yeah?" he asked. "Are they working you too hard, love?"
Hermione laughed.
"I'm self-employed," she told him. "It's my own fault I'm so frazzled."
"Oh," Charlie frowned. "What are you doing with yourself these days? I think the last time I asked, you were still working for the Ministry?"
"I was," Hermione nodded. "I was pushing papers and handling scientific data and statistical analysis in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures office. But when my supervisor decided to run for a seat on the Wizengamot, his replacement drove me absolutely mad. I hexed the little bitch so badly that she spent three months in St Mungo's when she pushed me too far, one time too often. I quit on the spot before they could sack me. She was still bleeding on the floor at my feet when the head of the department rushed in, panicking. I didn't even give notice, I just left."
"Right on," Charlie grinned. "You'd fit right in on the Dragon reserve in Romania. I knocked out my supervisor's tooth when I was still just a rookie when he almost got me and a fellow rookie roasted alive because he pushed us too hard and threw us into a situation we had no idea how to handle with a rabid Razorscale."
Hermione laughed, relieved to hear it. She'd been a bit embarrassed following her actions when she'd quit, especially since Molly and Arthur had both expressed their disappointment with her for her lack of restraint before she'd told them just what the bitch had asked of her.
"Yes, well," Hermione blushed. "She didn't almost get me killed, but the agenda she was pushing was going to impact almost every magical creature known to wizardkind and she wanted me to fudge my research to get her agenda through. Since it all came to light, she's recovered and she was given the sack, as well. They begged me to come back, but too many of those within the department had been all for her agenda."
"Does this have anything to do with the Bill of Harvest I heard rumors about a while back?" Charlie frowned. "Me and the lads were going to storm the Ministry on dragon-back if that one had gotten through."
"That's the one,"' Hermione nodded. "And they didn't just want to increase the harvest of dragon-parts. They wanted to open it up to all magical creatures, including those considered Being, rather than just Beast. They wanted to harvest werewolves and vampires and veela, alongside house elves and dragons and bowtruckles. Any magical creature not a human-wizard was going to be on the chopping block and I refused to let that happen. Not on my watch."
Charlie smiled at her slowly, his mouth pulling up at the corners when he spotted the way she planted her hands on her hips and huffed indignantly.
"So, what do you do now?" he asked, moving over to dig into the trunk he'd left by the door, producing a few bottles of liquor she was sure she'd never heard of.
Hermione's indignant expression faded away.
"I run an outreach center for magical creatures," she told him. "In addition to veterinarian services for owls, and cats and other familiars, we also help house, employ, feed, and provide legal representation for Beings and Beasts that need help. I brew a monthly batch of Wolfsbane for any werewolf who wants it, and we hold blood drives to keep the vampires fed rather than forcing them to rely on friends and family to feed them, or having their instincts take over and drive them to kill. We help get abused elves out from under cruel masters and offer legal representation for goblins who've been wronged by wizards. We take on litters of Kneazels and Crups when they get away from their owners and breed, finding them all good homes. You name it and if it's a service that helps to benefit magical creatures, we offer it. Since my Foundation is the first of its kind, it's been hectic, but it's worth it every time I see the grateful smile on the face of a vampire child, or the relief on the face of a werewolf whose down on his luck."
"That's amazing," Charlie told her, looking stunned. "And here I was thinking that my work with the lizards was important."
Hermione laughed.
"But it is," Hermione told him. "The work of Dragon Tamers and the vision of the reserves was actually something I emulated for my business plan. For centuries, wizards have come together to protect dragons from hunters, and from being detected by muggles, and from extinction. I wanted to do the same thing on a larger scale for all the creatures and beings that wizards haven't begun to consider 'useful' to our society because their parts can't be used in quite so wide a range of wizarding pursuits."
"So, you save the world, is what you're saying?" Charlie grinned at her.
"I… well… no," Hermione admitted. "If I'm being honest, in the early stages of the Bill of Harvest, I was one of the ones advocating it for that very reason. Typically, if a creature is considered 'useful' to the human population, it will be bred and protected. Look at how we farm sheep, cattle, horses, dogs and cats. Even owls. Creatures that we have use for, we strive to keep, for want of a better word. Early on, when the bill was suggested and before the full extent of their goals were revealed, I thought it was wise. I learned the error of my ways and I've been working tirelessly ever since to undo the damage I did when I didn't immediately nip it in the bud, like I should've."
Charlie smiled gently.
"You're motivated by guilt," he concluded.
"I suppose so," Hermione nodded, biting her lip and looking at her feet, shamefaced.
"But that's not all," Charlie said quietly. "The way your eyes light up when you talk about your work, and the fire in you when you talk about heading off that Bill… helping those creatures is what gets you out of bed every morning, same as me."
Hermione lifted her head, meeting his gaze for a long moment, surprised to see the appreciation and the heat in his eyes as he watched her.
"It is," she agreed quietly, nodding her head.
Charlie nodded too, his eyes searching her face for a long moment before lowering to roam over the rest of her. Hermione felt his gaze like a hot caress and it was all she could do to stand still and keep from quivering or squirming under his attention. She wanted so badly to reach out and close the distance between the two of them.
"Do you like dragons, too?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her when he returned his eyes to his face.
"Of course," Hermione said. "Actually, if you have some time while you're home… I could use a little help regarding something dragon related at the clinic."
"Oh, yeah?" Charlie asked.
Hermione nodded, opening her mouth intent on explaining further, but before she could, Molly Weasley suddenly bustled into the kitchen – probably to find out what was taking them so long.
"Everything alright, dears?" Molly asked, her eyes dancing over them and making Hermione realize that at some point after digging Romanian liquor and what looked a bit like dragon's blood out of his bag, Charlie had crossed the kitchen to stand close enough to her that she had to tip her head back to hold his gaze thanks to their height difference.
"Everything's fine, Mum," Charlie reassured the woman, his eyes leaving Hermione's face to look over at his mother before he took a small step back as though realizing that they were standing intimately and a little inappropriately close together. "Just mixing up a little holiday cheer for everyone, you know?"
Molly narrowed her eyes as Charlie turned his attention to doing just that, beginning to pour together a particularly potent looking cocktail that Hermione suspected was going to knock her socks off. She watched him mix them before stepping a little closer and beginning to copy what he was doing. She was a bit annoyed with Molly for interrupting, but she didn't want to mention the batch of dragon eggs that had been delivered to the clinic in front of Molly. The woman might be one of the kindest people she knew, but she didn't particularly approve of Hermione's business. In particular, she wasn't a fan of the way the profession brought her into contact with so many "dangerous individuals", and she tended to launch into lecturing Hermione about it whenever the topic was mentioned.
"So, how long are you home, Charlie?" Hermione asked, changing the subject when he shot her a sideways glance full of questions.
"Only until the day after New Year," he said. "Got to get back to the lizards. If the weather keeps on like this, I might not even be able to stay that long. Blizzards like this can kill young dragons, and the lads will be struggling to keep them all warm and protected."
"Oh, darling, I'm sure they can do without you for a few days," Molly protested. "You promised you'd be home the entire holiday, this time. And you promised you'd finally start thinking about settling down and finding a nice witch to marry…"
Hermione winced when she noticed the way Charlie's hand balled into a fist at the mention of marriage. She knew it was a sore topic between the Dragon Tamer and his mother. Molly, ever the maternal figure, wanted parenthood for everyone and she didn't appreciate being ignored when she pestered her children about giving her a few more grandchildren.
"Bill and Fleur have got another little one on the way, you know, and I know how close you and your brother are. It would be so nice if the two of you could have children around the same time, so the cousins could grow up together," Molly went on when Charlie didn't answer.
"Might be a bit hard to do when I work in a male-dominated industry and live on a remote dragon reserve in Romania, Mum," Charlie said. "I can hardly go seducing one of the lads into squirting me out a kid in time to catch up with Bill."
"Well, maybe if you spent a little more time around other people besides those same wizards you've been working with for fifteen years, you'd have yourself a girlfriend by now," Molly said snidely, and Hermione suspected the few spiked eggnogs she'd had were going to her head and making her feisty.
Charlie's teeth clenched, and Hermione watched the muscle in his square jaw begin to tick as he continued to fix the cocktails he was crafting.
"Maybe if every time I came home, I wasn't obligated to spend every spare minute in the direct company of blood relatives and their spouses, I might've snagged myself a pretty witch," Charlie countered, and Hermione winced at being dismissed in such a manner.
Her cheeks brightened to pink when Charlie chose that very moment to dart her a look, catching her wince. His brow pulled into a frown for a long moment before he shot her an apologetic half-smile.
"Maybe if you came home more than once a year, we wouldn't feel the need to monopolize your time quite so much," Molly argued hotly, putting her hands on her plump hips and scowling at her son.
"Did you ever think that maybe I'd come home more often if you didn't pester me about getting hitched every time I do?" Charlie growled at the woman, the famous Weasley temper rearing its head.
"Pester?" Molly demanded. "I don't pester! Hermione, would you say that I have a tendency to pester people about their love lives?"
Hermione, having managed to successfully avoid being too close to Molly all evening for the sake of avoiding such pestering, herself, winced at being drawn into the argument.
"Pestering might be too strong a word," Hermione allowed, not wanting to outright tell the woman she was a nagger, but not about to throw Charlie under the bus just to protect Molly's feelings. The matriarch of the Weasley brood had been allowed free reign too long in Hermione's opinion.
"Meaning?" Molly asked, looking affronted.
"Meaning that you do have a tendency to remind your children, their spouses, and even me of what you consider to be the shortcomings in our lives," Hermione informed her quietly. "You ask Charlie every time he comes home just when it is that he's going to settle down into the role of husband and father even though, from what the rest of us can see, the only true love in his life is his dragons and his job. I'm certain that as a mother you don't want consider the idea that any of your children might find themselves lonely or unattached for too long a time, but not everyone is cut out for being married, or having children, Molly. You've asked me several times since Ron and I broke up whether I had my eye on a nice young man, and even tried to set me up with Lee, and then with that chap that Percy works with, and then with Neville. I've given you no indication that I'm looking for a romantic partner."
"But you're currently not seeing anyone," Molly pointed out.
"Maybe she doesn't want to be seeing anyone, Mum," Charlie spoke up, coming to Hermione's defense when Molly eyed her unkindly. "Maybe I don't either. How many times have I told you that the only way I'm getting married or having kids is if some witch comes along who wants to live in the middle of nowhere surrounded by dragons and the lads? We don't all want rugrats swinging from our legs, you know? Some of us have bigger dreams that bringing more hungry mouths into the world."
"Parenthood is a lot more than just feeding a hungry child and having them occasionally be clingy," Molly humphed, crossing her arms over her ample bosom and glaring at the two of them. "I would've thought that having seen Bill raising Victoire would've showed you that, Charles?"
Charlie snorted.
"He writes to me about how he and Fleur never get a full night's sleep, and how they can't do more than grab a quickie during nap-times for the sprog, Mum," Charlie pointed out. "Sleepless nights, accidents, illness, all the responsibilities of keeping a helpless and tiny human being alive. What appeal would there be in that for someone like me?"
Hermione bit her lip, supposing that she might have to permanently put aside her dreams of one day marrying Charlie and starting a family with him if this was how he felt on the topic.
"I don't understand how a man who has devoted his life to the wellbeing of magical creatures – hand rearing more of them than I can count – is so put off by the notion of reproducing," Molly said, frowning at Charlie like he was some kind of puzzle.
"I'm not put off on having them, Mum," Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair and shooting a frustrated look toward Hermione. "I just… all those things already come with the territory of chasing my lizards, you know? How am I to help be there to soothe a colicky baby in the wee small hours when I'm too busy trying to cure a hiccupping baby dragon at three o'clock in the morning, or wrestling a grumpy old koroleva into holding still long enough to treat her for scale-rot? When am I going to have time to grab even a quickie with my witch when I'm already run off my feet and hardly ever home, eh? What kind of life would that be for whatever poor witch falls for my charms?"
"Then stop working yourself so hard, my boy," Molly said, exasperated.
"I love my job," Charlie argued. "You wouldn't ask Bill to give up Curse Breaking, or Percy to cut back his hours at the Ministry, would you? You wouldn't have the twins slow down productions and sales through their Wheezers franchise, or tell Ron and Ginny to stop playing professional Quidditch. Why do you insist on telling me that my chosen career is no good when it's so specialized a field?"
"Because none of their positions prevent them from interacting with other human beings for weeks at a time," Molly snapped. "You brothers are all married or seeing people. Your sister is engaged. You're the last hold out and I'm worried that if you leave it much longer, you'll regret it. You're not getting any younger, darling."
"I'm only thirty-three, Mum," Charlie sighed, frowning at her. "Hardly ancient given that the average wizard lives to one hundred and fifty or even two hundred."
"You're no average wizard!" Molly hissed. "You insist on continually exposing yourself to dangerous situations, defying death over and over again on the merit of your speed and your wits, alone. Don't think I didn't notice your limp, Charlie. I know you lied about the extent of your injuries after the day's dragon disaster. You might very well not make it to forty!"
Hermione closed her eyes in horror at the very thought.
"And you want to inflict me on some poor witch and a rugrat or two?" Charlie demanded. "So, I could potentially leave them high and dry when I get roasted alive by my lizards? Doomed to widowship and a fatherless existence? Why would I ever want to inflict that on someone?"
"Then quit, Charlie!" Molly said loudly. "Quit chasing those stupid dragons and get yourself a job that will let you be home in the evenings and let you raise a family without fear of losing you every time your leave the blasted house!"
Charlie opened his mouth, intent on letting Molly have it by the look on his face, but before he could say something that would likely ruin Christmas and make the pushy witch cry, Hermione put her hand on his arm. His wild blue eyes darted down to meet her own and he frowned a little, clearly frustrated.
"Is there anything else to go in these drinks, Charlie?" Hermione asked quietly, nodding toward the cocktails.
Charlie glanced at them.
"They need to be set on fire," he said seriously before pulling his wand from the pocket of his jeans and flicking it at the cocktails. "Incendio."
The anger simmering through the Dragon Tamer caused the spell to overshoot and scorch Molly's kitchen benches, but Hermione didn't say anything.
"Will you help me carry them to the living room?" she asked, intent on getting him away from his mother before their spat could turn into a full blown row.
"We're not finished this conversation," Molly warned when Charlie nodded and scooped up a tea tray to load the drinks onto.
"We are unless you want to hear exactly what I think of your nagging, Mum," Charlie bit out coldly before stomping away into the living room.
Hermione watched him go, shaking her head to herself and sighing softly.
"I don't nag, do I, Hermione?" Molly asked, frowning after her son when he disappeared from view.
Hermione bit her lip.
"You put pressure on issues that, typically, are already on our minds," Hermione offered quietly. "I'm sure that Charlie is well aware of his bachelor existence, just as I'm aware of my being single. Just as Ginny's aware that the length of her engagement is really beginning to drag on a bit. We all know you mean well, so we tend to grit our teeth and put up with it, but being harped after regarding things we're either quietly unhappy with, or perfectly content with, grows tiresome after a while. Based on his comments, it seems clear to me that being without a partner or children is beginning to weigh on Charlie, but he loves his job too much to give it up and thinks it would be unfair to inflict that kind of life on his family. And he's right. There are very few witches who would happily relocate to the dragon reserve in Romania, and fewer still who would put up with being abandoned to deal with all the hard parts of child-rearing alone while he plays with his dragons. And even fewer who wouldn't worry themselves sick that he might be eaten whenever he's called in to handle something with his dragons. He might be content to live as a bachelor until he's too old to keep up with the lizards; or he might be terribly lonely and finding himself caught between the desire for a family and the desire to keep the job he loves and has worked so hard to keep."
Molly was frowning at her.
"But… if he quit, those issues would be solved," Molly pointed out.
"They would be," Hermione agreed. "But Charlie would be miserable. Would you really want that for him?"
"He'd have a family; he'd be happy," Molly insisted stubbornly.
"He'd go from an adrenaline fueled existence to one of unbearable boredom," Hermione argued. "Can you imagine how dull it would be after wrestling dragons for a living, to suddenly find yourself manning a desk in some stuffy office? He lives to be outdoors, surrounded by magical creatures and doing what he can to help them. He's never going to want to give that up, Molly. Not even when he's a little old sod who can't bend down to pull his own socks on. And I don't blame him. I wouldn't easily give up my job, even with the late nights, the terrible hours, the long days and the full moon stress. Even with the danger that comes along with working so closely with so many magical creatures, I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't trade it for motherhood, no matter my intention to one day have a family of my own. Having you prod me and poke me about doing so makes it hard to enjoy your company in those moments, and I'm sure Charlie feels the same way."
Molly looked highly affronted, and Hermione would bet the alcohol in her system had her spoiling for a fight, so before the other witch could work up a response, she picked up a second tray of the flaming beverages and followed Charlie back into the living room where everyone was still gathered. She noticed immediately that Charlie hadn't returned to his seat, and that he was instead pacing back and forth by the window, his flaming drink in his hand and a scowl on his face. She caught Arthur's eye when she handed him his drink and made a face before nodding toward Molly where she'd begun angrily clearing away pots and pans in the kitchen.
Arthur sighed, tipping his head toward Charlie and raising his eyebrows. Hermione nodded, knowing he was silently asking if his wife had been pestering his son again. Shaking his head, the Weasley patriarch held up his flaming cocktail, though he looked rather apprehensive about drinking it, and cleared his throat loudly.
"It's wonderful to have you all home for the holidays, Weasleys," he announced. "We're blessed to have your delightful spouses, and family friends joining us this evening. Our big family is only getting bigger and I, for one, couldn't be happier. Happy Christmas!"
"Happy Christmas," everyone recited with a cheer.
Hermione shuddered as she scanned the others, trying to figure out how she was supposed to drink her cocktail without burning off her eyebrows. She looked toward Charlie, but he was no help given that he didn't even blow his out before lifting it to his lips and downing it in three long gulps.
"Merlin's beard! What did I just drink?" Arthur asked, his eyes wide as he looked toward his son having emulated Charlie and consumed the drink as quickly as he could. He clutched his chest as though it burned going down and he panted with the effort of drinking the strange concoction.
"A Bloody Firestorm," Charlie informed him. "That bubbling in your gut is the flame-activated dragon's blood that makes up part of the concoction."
"There's blood in this?" Ginny asked, looking horrified.
"Dragon's blood," Charlie nodded. "And it'll knock you on your arse."
Hermione chuckled when he clapped Bill on the shoulder and grinned evilly at his elder brother.
"Good luck remembering to drag yourself out of bed to play Santa Claus tonight," Charlie taunted.
"Charlie!" Ginny protested. "I can't believe you just… Yuck!"
Hermione shook her head at the younger witch when she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and set aside the remainder of her drink.
"It won't kill you, Ginny," Charlie rolled his eyes at his sister.
"Perhaps not," Arthur allowed. "But I feel certain I'm going to need a good night's sleep if I want to drag myself out of bed for the festivities tomorrow. Goodnight, Weasleys."
"Night, Dad," they chimed back to him in dribs and drabs before the man strolled out of the room and collected his fussy wife from the kitchen, coaxing her upstairs with promises of a foot massage.
Charlie shook his head at his complaining siblings when they all suggested that it might be time to turn in as well, all of them tired out from the long day and contented with their full bellies after the evening's meal. Hermione watched Charlie carry his empty cup back into the kitchen to set on the sink before he pulled on his cloak and let himself out of the house. Bill followed her into the kitchen, frowning when he saw Charlie was out in the snow.
"What happened?" he asked of Hermione.
"Your Mum was giving him grief about his job and nagging him to get a move on with having some kids so that they'd grow up alongside your next one," Hermione told him.
"Ah, bloody hell," Bill muttered, raking his hands over his face. "Bet that went down well."
"I had to intervene before he could tell her to stick her meddling up her arse," Hermione replied, shaking her head a little.
"She gave you an earful too, I'd wager?" Bill said after a moment of watching her shrewdly.
Hermione sighed.
"She thought about it," Hermione nodded, polishing off the last of her drink and making a face at the flavor. "I reminded her that pestering us when we might very well be perfectly happy as we are comes across as nagging, and that pointing out hard truths if we're unhappy is just unkind, and I may have walked off before she could reply…"
"Blimey," Bill chuckled. "You let her have it, then?"
"I was polite," Hermione sniffed. "And unfortunately, your mother, though she means well, tends to do more harm than good with her nagging. Someone had to tell her, and if I hadn't, I'm sure Charlie would've, and he'd have been far less polite than I was."
Bill nodded, chuckling a little bit.
"Then I guess I have a question for you, Hermione," Bill said, nodding at his wife when she indicated she was going to head up to bed.
"Hmmm?" Hermione asked.
"Are you going to keep on with this game of watching him from afar and not confessing you're mad for him, or not?" Bill wanted to know.
"Being mad for him and seeing a future for the two of us as a couple are two different things, Bill," Hermione told him quietly, frowning a little but not bothering to be embarrassed that he knew about her crush.
"Why? You daydream of having sprogs with Charlie, yeah?"
Hermione blushed and made a mental note to be careful just what she shared with Fleur in future.
"In the sense that most women daydream of such things starring a man they fancy," Hermione sighed. "But the reality is vastly different. We might have a good deal in common with our passion for magical creatures, but Charlie is dedicated to his dragons and will likely live out his life on the reserve in Romania until he dies in the field when a hungry dragon eats him, or until he's old and can't keep up with the beasts any more. He won't be budged on moving from there, and he made some good points in his argument with your mother about the commitment required for marriage and fatherhood. Currently he believes he would half-arse it, and I think he's correct. What's more, I have my clinic and my foundation to take care of here in Britain. I can hardly just close my doors and pack up my life to move to the reserve with him. The relationship would, at best, be one trialed by long-distance, and at worst, would result in one or the other of us sacrificing our passions to be with each other."
"You wouldn't move over there?" Bill asked.
"I might, if I didn't have my foundation," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "But even if I did, it wouldn't be much of a life. I thrive on knowledge and learning and challenges. Without proper Dragon Tamer training, I'd be sat on my rear going slowly mental with worry that every time he left the house, he might not make it home. And if, by some miracle, he moved back home, he would go mad with boredom. The daydream is a nice one, I'll admit, filled with happiness and laughter and a good deal of angry-sex to keep things spicy, but the reality is one of impotence and frustration and disappointment, Bill."
Bill sighed, his frown deepening as he glanced out the kitchen window and spotted Charlie in the snow, visible only because he'd apparently lit a pipe or a cigarette and the glow of it burning pinpointed him amid the blizzard.
"Look, I won't lie to you, Hermione," Bill said quietly as all of his siblings and their partners began making their way upstairs to bed. "You and Charlie getting together would be bloody brilliant. Mum would be off both of your backs, and what's more, I think you could make each other happy. I confess that, selfishly, I'd like what Mum wants to be a reality, too. Vic's got Teddy as her companion, but none of the others are looking like breeding the next generation of Weasley's just yet, and in truth, Charlie's always been my favourite brother. I'd like our kids to be close; the best of friends like me and Charlie were growing up. More than that, my brother is lonely, Hermione. He's lonely on that reserve and I reckon it's driving him mad. He loses his temper with Mum because there's a dark and bitter part of him that knows she's right. If he quit, he'd find a witch, settle down, have a family and all that shebang, but he knows he'd be unhappy to leave the life of Taming behind, and he'd take it out on his family.
"And you're no different, love. Every year he comes home, and every year I watch you watch him, and I hope, and I nudge and I try to will the two of you into not being such blockheads and just making a go of things, but it doesn't happen. You've been alone a long while now, and from what Fleur tells me, you've haven't been bothering with dates anymore? You're holding out for Charlie and you're not making a move to claim him."
"How can I?" Hermione frowned at him. "I've just explained why the reality of claiming him would be an ill-fated one."
"So, what then?" Bill asked. "You let go of your crush on him, and he grows angrier, bitterer, and lonelier on the reserve until one day he's just bad enough that he's forced to quit, or he dies there? And you go on, lonely yourself and grower bitter with wasted potential? Come on, Hermione. We didn't all fight a war just to let this hard-won life pass us all by."
"And if we try and it fails?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. "What then? I'm still welcome here because my breakup with Ron was amicable when he realized he was batting for the other team. If things fell apart with Charlie, they wouldn't be amicable. They would be fiery and ugly and full of resentment. You lot are the only family I've got left. I don't want to lose that when all the evidence points to such a dramatic end. Besides, Charlie's never looked twice at me. It's only ever been wishful thinking that I might catch his eye, let alone his heart."
Bill looked first doubtful, and then disbelieving. Hermione flinched a little when he reached over and squeezed her shoulder gently.
"For a smart girl, that was a pretty silly thing to say, Hermione," Bill told her. "I'm going to go on upstairs and ease whatever aches are plaguing my pregnant wife before playing Santa Claus to my daughter. Why don't you find out for yourself just how effectively you've got your hooks into my brother, eh? And turn the lights off down here when you're done."
He gave her shoulder a final squeeze before striding out of the kitchen and climbing the stairs to the top of the house where Fleur awaited him in bed. Hermione bit her lip, standing in the kitchen and wondering if she should also turn in for the night, or if she should put her cloak on and make the most of a little more time to spend with Charlie. Part of her knew that the most sensible thing to do would be to just take herself off to bed and to put the notion of pursuing anything with Charlie from her mind, but she didn't think she had the strength of will to manage that.
Besides, even if they had no feasible future, Hermione wasn't above pursuing something entirely physical until the fluttering in her stomach every time he came near stopped. Squaring her shoulders, Hermione crossed the kitchen and collected her cloak, scarf and hat, donning them all before letting herself out into the raging blizzard.