A Match Made at the Ministry

Chapter 4: Beer and Coffee

"I've never been to Sleaford." Charlie sat next to Tracey on the train. They'd left King's Cross about an hour before but the conversation on the way up had been minimal. He could tell that she was nervous, much different than the sarcastic and chatty woman he known so far. He'd used most of the conversation topics safe amongst Muggles and was struggling. "How much longer?"

She turned from the window and wrinkled her nose. "Fifteen minutes, we're almost there."

"Hey." He bumped her shoulder with his. "It'll be fine. Are you sure I'm dressed properly for this?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "You look fine, Charlie. Khaki trousers and a polo shirt are fine. We're just meeting my family, not the bloody queen. I'd rather do that. But not the dogs. She can keep the dogs. Do you like dogs?"

"Dogs are alright. I like most animals. Why I'm a...one of the reasons I have my job, you know?"

"You probably loved the 'Care of' class, didn't you?"

He smiled. "One of my favourites. Not for you, I take it."

"Um, no." She shook her head. "I liked the...maths class."

"So why didn't you do something with...maths? Instead of..."

"Because they wouldn't hire someone like me." She turned back to the window. "I knew I should have got a bottle of something. Why'd you make me promise?"

"Because it'd make a bad impression." He sat back in his seat and began picking at one of the callouses on his hand. "Listen, we don't have to stay the day. You said we'd just be there for the afternoon, right?" He waited for her to respond but when she didn't say anything he found himself getting more nervous. "You did tell them I was coming, didn't you?"

"Not really. I just said I'd come up and Gran said she'd make Mum put on food and...no. I didn't."

"So I'm a surprise, then. Well, this oughta be fun."

"Sorry." She leaned her head back against the seat. Tracey knew she should have said something to her family, but how do you tell people who aren't that favourably inclined towards magic that the Ministry for her type of people was forcing her to marry a man she'd never met before being matched with him? Who in their right mind would say 'oh, that's lovely, dear' and not think the whole thing was mental? "We can leave whenever you want. After you meet Gran."

Charlie filed that away. Of her family there was only one person who she really cared about their opinion, and it was her Gran. He licked his lips nervously and ran a hand over his beard. She'd insisted he keep it, she said it looked 'bitching' on him and since he didn't have to go through that awkward stage of growing the beard he didn't mind. Her Gran couldn't be that bad, anyway. After all, he had dealt with Aunt Muriel for years.

-ooo-

They decided to walk from the train station. It was a bit further than Charlie expected but he didn't mind walking; he walked all over the Reserve as part of his duties. Mostly, though, he thought that Tracey wanted to walk to delay the inevitable. As they got closer he saw her shoulders slump slightly.

"We don't have to stay long. I can say I have to get back for work."

She gave him a look. "You work in Romania."

"Yeah, but they have dragons in Britain. I could say I have to go to Wales because they've got a Green on a clutch that's being difficult."

"That'd go over well." She turned away from him and pointed to the next corner. "Right there and just down the street. You'll see the van."

"The van?"

"Bruce has a nasty Transit van with his band's name on the side. It's pathetic."

True enough they turned the corner and Charlie saw immediately what she meant; the houses all looked fairly similar, with plain Muggle cars outside, but one house down the street had a bright green van outside with a big black bat painted on the side. There were words on it but he couldn't make them out. As he got closer he saw that they said 'Bat Vomit.'

"Told you. Pathetic." Tracey had stopped outside on the pavement and turned to him. "We never have to do this again, you know."

"We'll see. Maybe they'll surprise you."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Come on."

They went up to the door and before she could open it the door flung open. Standing in front of them was a man roughly Charlie's height with long, straight dark hair and a black t-shirt and jeans with ripped knees. He took a look at them and turned back inside. "Tracey brought a bloke with her!"

"Move, Bruce." Tracey pushed him out of the way, reached back and took Charlie's hand and drug him inside.

Charlie felt like he'd walked into McGonagall's class in just his pants as everyone in the house seemed to stop and stare at them. He took them all in quickly, most of them seemed shocked except for the old lady sitting in a chair knitting. She smiled at them.

Tracey let out a sigh. "Everyone, this is Charlie."

An older man without much hair made his way forward. "Tracey, you didn't tell us you'd be bringing anyone. Hello, I'm Kevin, Tracy's dad."

Charlie shook his hand. "Good to meet you, sir." He saw a man who looked a little bit older than Bill, but with short-cropped dark hair due to a receding hairline, nudge another man who looked a bit younger. Tracey's brothers, he guessed. A slightly plump woman with brown hair and an apron on that reminded him of his mum came out of what must be the kitchen and wiped her hands off and hurried over.

"Tracy, you should have told me you were bringing someone, I would have put more on. Hello, Charlie, is it?"

"Charlie Weasley. Pleased to meet you."

Tracey nudged him. "Charlie this is my mum, Margaret." She pointed to the two smirking men on the sofa. "And that's Alec and Matt. Alec's the bald one."

"Hey!" The man stood up. "I may be bald but I ain't no ginger."

Charlie took a deep breath. He wasn't sure what to expect but that wasn't it. He nodded at them as they didn't appear to make any motion to actually greet him.

The old woman smacked Alec on the back of his head. "Manners. Tracey, don't make me get up, dear."

Tracey moved past her Mum, dragging Charlie as she smirked at her brother. "Gran, this is..."

"I caught the name, I'm old but I'm not deaf yet." She winked at Charlie. "Very nice to meet you. How long have you and our Tracey been seeing each other?"

"Uh, Gran, maybe we should let him sit down before you start in." She loudly whispered "She'll ask you horribly embarrassing questions. You don't have to answer."

"Oh." Charlie nodded. "I see where you get it, then."

For the next hour or so it went moderately well. Tracey tried to fend off the questions but eventually it came out that Charlie was, like her, magical. At that Charlie noticed her brother's reactions; all three registered different degrees of dislike, Bruce the most. Remembering Daphne's comments he made sure to keep his temper. It wasn't fair, Tracey couldn't help being a witch any more than he could help the colour of his hair.

Dinner went well initially, as he found that Tracey inherited her abilities with words from more than her Gran. They were a very talky family, and if he hadn't grown up with all of the chaos and four different stories happening simultaneously at the Burrow he would have been horribly lost. The brothers, perhaps with some sort of inferiority complex about being Muggles, bragged a bit about themselves. Alec played rugby and worked in some sort of office dealing with insurance, Matt helped his father at their garage; they repaired Muggle vehicles. Bruce was in a band which he thought was going to get signed to a record deal 'any day now' and Margaret was a cook at the local hospital.

He initially told them that he worked with animals and they let that go without much comment. At Gran's questions he told them that had five brothers and a sister, that his mum kept house while his father worked in the government. Margaret said that it must be nice not to have to work out of the house, and things just sort of settled into an entirely awkward clinking of silverware on plates and 'pass the butter' kind of meal.

After the table was cleared away, and the men went out in the garden to smoke, Charlie summoned his Gryffindor courage and joined them. They looked at him oddly for a moment and then Kevin pulled a can of lager out of the cooler and tossed it to him. Charlie popped the top, took a swig and then everyone stood around for a moment, unsure of what to do or say.

Finally Alec took a long pull from his lager and shook his head. "Can't believe she went and took up with a poncy ginger wizard. Must be nice, waving that little stick around instead of working. What'd ya do all day, play with kitties? Nice job. For a poofter."

Bruce laughed and rolled up his sleeve, showing off a rather shoddy tattoo in the image of his band logo. He saw Charlie looking at it. "Yeah, it's something, ain't it? Bet you wish you could have something like that. You'd probably get a fluffy kitty. Probably the reason you're seeing Tracey, low standards for the both 'a you. Wizards, more like wankers."

Charlie had seen shit like this before, men acting like they needed to show who was the baddest man in the room. The last time he'd seen this big of a dick-waving contest had been in Romania. He and the other Keepers held their own and then more against the villagers at that local pub. More than that, though, he was tired of listening to the shit. If this was just a taste of what Tracey had endured he knew why she didn't come there very often. More than that, though, he was a Weasley, and he inherited more than his red hair from Molly.

"Right." He reached down and pulled off his shirt, revealing the massive tattoo that started in the middle of his back, snaked over his shoulder and ended with the dragon's head on his chest. "This is a Hungarian Horntail. They're the meanest fucking dragon on the planet and would snap your heads off before you could touch your little willies and piss yourself." As he was angry the dragon tattoo reacted, it's eyes flashing as inky flames burst across his chest and receded. "And for the record, mate, I don't spend my day with kittens I make sure these bastards don't get out of hand and fly over here and set Sleaford on fire for fun. We've got them all out there, Welsh Greens, Chinese Fireballs, but these bastards" he tapped his tattoo. "...these bastards have killed more people than any other breed. I've handled one by myself once, once. I'm one of the best fucking keepers on the Reserve and I lasted twenty minutes before the others got there, kept that dragon from... Twenty. Fucking. Minutes. You can take your hard man shit and stick it up your arse. I see things more threatening than you before breakfast. Hell, I see things shit more threatening things than you before breakfast."

He took a drink of his lager and shook his head. They were staring at him in shock. And a bit of fear. He knew he might be pushing things but his temper was flowing and he went up to Bruce, standing close. "And for the record if I ever hear of you or you lot doing anything to Tracey, anything, saying anything nasty or...yeah, I've got a wand, and I absolutely know how to use it, mate. I know spells that'll skin a dragon, spells that'll pull all their guts out...I could make your eyeballs explode in your head before you could even look at that shit tattoo, remember that. She's a witch. She's got magic. You don't. It's been years, deal with it. Fucking arseholes." He turned to Kevin. "Sorry about that. Thanks for the beer. I think we'll be going now."

As he walked back into the house he was still fuming. He closed the door and when he did he saw Tracey standing there with her mouth open, her mum with her hand over her heart and Gran nodding and smiling. He didn't know what to do or say so he stood there.

"That's a very nice tattoo, there." Gran pointed towards him. "How do you get the eyes to do that? Never seen anything like that."

He looked down and realised that he'd left his shirt out there. "Shit." He saw Tracey look over to her Gran, and it was then her mood shifted. Charlie saw it and saw the uncertain, nervous Tracey change to the biting, take-no-shite girl he'd met before.

"I'll just go get your shirt and have a word with the morons." Tracey walked past him, taking a moment to trace a finger across the dragon's head.

It was silent in the house as Charlie stood there, shirtless, with his betrothed's Muggle mother and grandmother. Eventually, though, he ran a hand across his beard. "I'm sorry, I don't know how it does that. Magical tattoo."

"Isn't magic a wonderful thing?" Gran pushed her glasses up on her face. "And for the record I've always thought gingers were ab it of something. Dated one before Hubert. He had the temper. Good in the sack, too."

"MUM!" Margaret covered her face with her hand. "I cannot believe you just said that!"

Tracey's voice could be heard from outside. She was obviously giving her brothers a piece of her mind. The door opened and Kevin came in, Charlie's shirt in his hands. "Here you go. Sorry about them. 'Bout time someone took them down a peg."

"Thanks." Charlie put on his shirt.

"Hope you don't think bad a' Tracey 'cause of her brothers." Kevin handed him another beer. They ran off a couple of her other boyfriends." He paused. "Well, they weren't boyfriends for long."

"Nah." Charlie took a long drink of beer. "I'm not going anywhere. We're getting married...shit."

"What?" Kevin and Margaret said it simultaneously. "Married? Margaret came over and stared at him intently. "Is she pregnant?"

"No!" Charlie took a step back. "She's not. It's...complicated. We...it's...damn it." He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"I'm waiting, lad." Kevin's tone wasn't very patient.

"Why don't you come to dinner with us some night? Not them." He bobbed his head towards the garden where Tracey's voice was still loud. "Have you ever seen magical London?"

"We'd love to." Gran smiled broadly. "But that'll be a long train ride for these old bones."

Charlie shook his head. "Not with magic. I'll have Tracey contact you. I probably should get her."

"Oh, please do." Margaret nodded. "We've got quite a bit to discuss. London will be nice but I'd like some answers now, please."

Tracey stormed back into the house and stopped. She could tell something had happened. "What? They deserved it. Come on, Charlie, we're leaving."

Margaret stood in front of her daughter. "Forgot to tell me something, Tracey Gertrude? Like the fact you're getting married?"

"Oh fuck me." Tracey rolled her eyes. "Really? We're going to talk about that now? Fine. Gran, Mum, Dad...Charlie and I are getting married and no, I'm not pregnant. There. Told you. Done. Now we're leaving."

"Hold on." Charlie put out his hand. "They deserve more than that. I invited them, without your brothers, to London for dinner. Magical London."

"Fine." Tracey looked at them. "I'll ring you later. I'm done with Sleaford for today. Bye."

As Tracey headed out the door Charlie hurriedly said his goodbyes and rushed out to catch up with her. She was a good half block away by the time he caught up with her.

"Hey! Stop!" He took hold of her hand. "Tracey..."

"I hate them. I really hate them. My brothers are..."

"The hell with your brothers. Come on, I think the others are still in shock you didn't tell them."

"You're one to talk, whipping off your shirt like that." Tracey started to walk away but stopped. "We were watching you from the window, did you know that? I was worried you'd do something you'd get in trouble for, you can't cast a spell on Muggles. Trust me, I know the laws. I've wanted to hex them for years. But then Gran said something smutty about you and I couldn't talk. That's when you walked in."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Ok, now what?"

"Well, you've got to figure out where to take them for dinner, that's what. But right now we're going back to the flat." She took a couple of steps and then stopped, her expression vastly different from the anger a few moments before. "Charlie? Thank you. Nobody's ever stood up to them like that. Nobody's ever stood up for me like that."

"You're welcome."

She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. "Come on. Let's get the fuck out of here."

-ooo-

When they got back to the flat Oliver and Daphne were there, a large stack of magazines and parchment in front of them. Tracey took one look and laughed. "It looks like Lucina's got you two working, huh?"

"No. Not just her." Daphne held up a piece of parchment. "It's in Oliver's contract."

"Publicity." Oliver sank back into the chair. "Ministry and Puddlemere decided we're going to have a big do. Pictures in the Prophet, the whole nine yards."

"Shit." Charlie sat down on the sofa, Tracey joining him. "Sorry, Ollie."

"Oh no, Ollie's got it easy." Daphne tilted her head and propped it up with her hand, elbow on the chair of the arm. "All he's got to do is wear that bloody kilt. I'm going to look like...like a bloody fairy princess in the things they're telling me to pick from."

"So?" Tracey shrugged. "Pick another dress."

"That would be easy and since when has anything about this whole...thing, when has anything been easy." Daphne pulled a face. "No, I have to pick from these dresses because the designers made an agreement with Puddlemere." She looked over at Oliver. "You didn't tell me I'd be marrying a whole damn Quidditch team when I married you."

"Like I know anything about this." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "I let my agent sort this stuff and just play Quidditch."

"Whatever." Daphne turned to Tracey. "Your day has to have been better than mine."

"Doubt it." Tracey sank back on the sofa and rested her head on Charlie's arm. "Let me give you the highlights. My brother gave Charlie shit because he's a ginger, we had an awkward dinner and then when the morons went out to the garden to smoke and have a beer Charlie joined them. It ended up with him pulling off his shirt, threatening them, and then I went out there and yelled at them. Merlin, it felt good. I've been wanting to do that for years. Oh, and Gran thinks Charlie looks good without his shirt and asked me if he looked better with his trousers off. I think that about covers it." She sat up. "Oh wait, no, Charlie invited my Gran and my folks to dinner in London, magic London, and let it slip we're getting married. I doubt tea with Lucina can beat that."

Oliver looked over to Daphne, who had a very shocked expression on her face. "No, we can't top that."

-ooo-

It was later that evening as Oliver sat with Daphne in a little coffeeshop, her with the now-usual coffee with one sugar and a splash of milk, Oliver with his Builder's brew and what Daphne called 'half milk' as she thought the cup was only partially filled with tea. The coffeeshop had been recently opened in one of the new magical sections springing up across Britain in secretive little areas, this one underneath a car park in Croydon. Not many people knew about it but Oliver had an in; it was owned by his old Quidditch teammate Katie Bell. Katie Bell-Johnson, these days, but a name change couldn't really change that lass.

Oliver could tell that something was bothering Daphne, something more than the upcoming publicity and sorting her dress. After Charlie and Tracey left to go somewhere she became very quiet, almost withdrawn, only answering questions in the shortest of answers. Not knowing what else to do he remembered Katie's coffeeshop, and one Floo call later he was pulling Daphne out of her chair. Katie was happy to see Oliver, polite but not quite friendly to Daphne, and set them up in one of the far tables, over by the bookshelves.

"It's more than the dress, isn't it? It's...it's everything, right?" He looked over to her. "I'm no a romantic man, this isn't what you should have. You shouldn't be rushed into this and..."

Daphne looked up and stared at him. "Daddy thinks it's a great idea I'm marrying you because your family has a lot of land and you play professional Quidditch."

"I'm not even first team." Oliver sat back, dumbfounded. "I thought your Mum hates me. I saw the look she gave me, about the kilt. I've seen that before, you know."

"I heard them talking. When we were meeting with the press witch from Puddlemere. I went to go to the loo and I heard them. Daddy thinks our wedding will be a great way to advertise his business and Mum wants to make it just like she wants to because Stori ran off with Dennis. I don't think either of them care about me at all."

"Hey, now." Oliver reached his hand across the table. "It can't be all that bad." He saw her look at him and sighed. "Sorry. I just can't think of it like that, like they do."

Daphne reached up and wiped away the beginnings of a tea. She would not cry. "That's why you're such a bloody Gryffindor."

"It's not all bad, being a Gryffindor." Oliver smirked. "I mean, we do charge in head first which can be...rather stupid, come to think of it. But someone's got to charge in, someone's got to do things the right way. We can't leave it to the Ravenclaws, that lot would still be making calculations and studying things."

Daphne chuckled. "What about the Hufflepuffs."

"Still eating and braiding each other's hair."

At that she laugh-snorted, covered her mouth and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily they hadn't. "So stereotypical. And what about us Slytherins?"

"Ah!" He sat back and raised a finger. "You lot are the worst of all, scheming on how to profit..." He sat back and picked up his cup. "But it doesna matter. All us Gryffindors are gone from running into things without a plan, the Ravenclaws are stuck in their books and the Hufflepuffs are probably still eating. Someone has to sort the mess, so...Slytherin." Oliver's smile faded a bit as he looked off to the side.

"I'm sorry, Katie'd have my hide, but..." A man in a shop apron stood there. "She said she played Quidditch with you and...could I trouble you for an autograph? Oh, and maybe a note?" He thrust a piece of parchment and a quill towards Oliver. "Please?"

"Not a problem, mate." Oliver took the quill. "Who do I make it out to?"

"Wendel. With one 'l', not two."

"Right."

As Oliver wrote Daphne saw Katie walking towards them with an irritated look upon her face. She got there and smacked one-l Wendel on the back of the head with her hand.

"Ollie, sorry about my husband." Katie took the parchment from Oliver, ripped it into little pieces and stared at her husband. "I told you, no bothering Oliver! Damn it. Come on." She pushed him away and mouthed 'Sorry' to Oliver before heading back towards the counter.

Daphne gave him a very odd look. "I guess I never thought that you'd be famous."

He scoffed. "I'm no famous. Maybe a wee bit, but not that much. And it won't last too long, I can't play forever. Might not ever make it to first team. But it is all I've ever wanted to do, ever since Da took me an' Ben to my first match, travel the world an' play Quidditch." He took a breath. "You know with your job an' my job we won't be together that much. I travel a lot, and if we make some of the cups this season it'd be a fair bit more. Give us a bit of time before...you know. You could visit once or twice, go to a match and we could play tourist. If you want."

"That's it." Daphne shook her head. "I don't know what I want. Thanks to the Ministry I don't even have time to figure that out. I hate this law." She paused for a second. "But I don't hate you, Oliver. You've been nothing but kind. Your family is wonderful..."

"My family?" He looked confused. "Really? But we're just a bunch a' farmers..."

"But I loved it up there. I even bought a pair of Wellies."

"You did, now? Those will come in useful." He sat back, slightly confused. The women he had dated since leaving Hogwarts really couldn't care less if is family lived underwater, they were focused on his job. But Daphne didn't care about Quidditch. She liked the farm. The pretty, blonde pureblood across from him liked...no, loved the farm. "So...would you want to live up there? It doesna have a Floo but we could sort that easy enough."

"I'd...I'd like to try." She looked at him. Even though she couldn't imagine babies or anything like that in this very moment she did find herself liking him quite a bit. She'd thought about him quite often. It didn't help that the Ministry, her parents and the Puddlemere publicity team had thrown them together, but if she was going to get through everything at least it was with him. "But I'd like to restrict my Mum's access."

"Agreed." He nodded emphatically. "We can go up later, to see what you'd like to change. I want you to be comfortable there."

The words ran through her like a calming potion; the only person in the whole marriage fiasco that cared about her opinion was the person she was to marry. Perhaps it would end up ok after all.