DISCLAIMER: Don't own Harry Potter. Sob.

NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to Burning-candlelight because she leaves really nice reviews and she gave me a lovely dedication in her awesome story 2 weeks in Romania (another Charlie/Hermione fic – check it out!!) :)

I don't want to sound like your Mum, but there is some bad language in this chapter (although nothing too bad) so if you're not old enough to be reading it, then don't, and if you do, don't complain to me, 'K?

Bill, Charlie, Percy and George Weasley were sitting around their table in the Leaky Cauldron in various states of alcoholic stupor. Percy seemed to be dozing slightly on Charlie's shoulder, and Charlie was staring into the distance with a rather vague look on his face. "You know," began Bill, "if I come home in this state, Fleur is going to discember . . . dismemcer . . . dismemsber . . . kill me."

George, who, rather surprisingly, was most in control of his faculties out of all of them, chuckled slightly. "Do you mean dismember you?" he asked.

"That's the one," said Bill. "She'll definitely do that."

"We-ell . . ." said George, drawing out the word. "I have been working on a new product as part of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes-"

"If it's got alcohol in it, I don't want to know," Bill groaned.

"No, it's nothing like that," George said quickly. "It's a potion that you take that effectively gets rid of all the alcohol in your body – it sort of dissolves it; it doesn't hurt or anything – and it pretty much gets rid of the chance of having a hangover in the morning, too."

"How safe is it?" asked Bill.

"Ninety-five percent," replied George.

"What about the other five percent?" Bill asked suspiciously.

"It's not that it isn't safe; it's more the fact that occasionally it doesn't stop you getting a hangover the next day," George said.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Bill said. "Let's pay up and get those two back." He indicated Charlie and Percy, both of whom were now lightly dozing. They paid Tom, the barman, and woke Charlie, who was very receptive to their plan. George apparated back to his flat, and lit the fire, and Bill and Charlie helped Percy to floo over there.

George set out four small glasses on the table, and filled each one with a startlingly bright pink potion. His three brothers looked at it warily. "Are you sure this is safe?" asked Charlie.

"Quite safe," replied George. "The only danger is that it might not work – it did that once with Lee – but that's it. Oh, and it tastes absolutely foul, 'cause sugar and other sweeteners make it worthless . . . but that's it."

His brothers still looked slightly apprehensive, so he sighed, rolled his eyes, and downed the mixture in one gulp. He pulled a face, but seemed otherwise to be fine. "See? I'm still alive!"

Charlie gulped down his glass, gagged slightly at the taste, and stood still for a moment. George looked at him nervously. "That is so much better," he said, walking over to an armchair and flopping down. "I mean, it's pretty awful tasting, but it really works!" He seemed to be much more alert than he had been a few moments ago, so Bill and Percy drank their potion, and joined in with Charlie's praise for it.

"Seriously, George, if you market this, you'll make even more Galleons! Especially if it really does leave you without a hangover in the morning – that's just genius!" said Bill.

"Well, I'm going to try to get it to work one hundred percent of the time," George replied. "And I might look into making it slightly nicer tasting. And then I'll have to go through all the rigmarole at the Ministry, to legalise it, and everything, which could take a while."

"Nah, just leave it with me," said Percy, who seemed much more chipper than he had a few moments ago. "When you're ready to start selling it, send all the papers down to me, and I'll have them signed off by all the right people on the same day."

"Merlin, Perce – you're going to break the rules?" gasped George, in mock-horror.

Charlie shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know whose example you're following, Percy, but it isn't a good one."

"It certainly isn't," replied Bill gravely. "Rules are there to be kept for people's safety, not to be broken on the whims of some irresponsible trouble-makers," he added, in a perfect impersonation of Percy's usual behaviour.

"Well, if that's the way you all feel, perhaps I won't, then!" replied Percy, with an indignant huff, but also a twinkle in his eye.

The brothers laughed, then Bill announced that he should be going home, and Charlie and Percy agreed, jumping up from their chairs. Bill had a handful of floo powder, and was just about to leave, when Ginny apparated into the flat, her arms around a struggling Hermione . . .

After Ron's plea, Hermione stared at him for a moment, motionless. Time seemed to stand still – Ginny and Harry were in the doorway, both looking at Ron with a combination of disgust, shock and slight confusion; Ron himself looked petrified and guilty, and the brunette slightly tipsy – and Hermione seemed unable to feel anything other than confusion. "Whoopsie!" giggled the brunette woman, and lurched out of the room. Ron and Hermione were left staring at each other, and Hermione still seemed unable to put her feelings into words.

Ginny tugged on Harry's sleeve to get his attention. "In about ten seconds from now, everything's going to come crashing down on her, and she's going to turn into an evil screeching Harpy,2 she murmured to her boyfriend. Harry nodded, remembering Hermione's reaction when Ron had returned in the middle of their Horcrux hunt. He did not doubt Ginny's words.

"So, what are we going to do?" he asked her, in a low tone.

"I am going to apparate with Hermione to George's flat – it's the closest by far – and try to get her to calm down. If necessary, I'll give her a calming drought or something, but she can't stay here with him," she indicated Ron, giving him a disgusted look. "She needs to talk to him, but not tonight. I can't condone what he's done, but she doesn't need to be doing time in Azkaban for murder, either, if you catch my drift."

Harry nodded again. "So what's my part in the plan, Captain?" he asked, only half-joking. Although he was used to sitting in the middle of Ron and Hermione's arguments (he sometimes felt like he had spent at least two thirds of his time at Hogwarts trying to act as a mediator between them), he rarely came down on the side of one over another. This time though, there was no choice in the matter – Ron had behaved appallingly towards Hermione, and he knew who's side he was going to take.

"I want you to keep Ron away from her. Body-bind him if you need to, I don't care; just don't let him near George's flat . . . or her flat for at least twenty-four hours. I'll come back to yours after I've got her sorted – Charlie's staying with her for a month or so – I told you didn't I? Yeah, thought so – so he'll be able to look after her for a bit. I'll see you soon," Ginny replied, kissing Harry on the cheek and walking over to Hermione.

Just as she got halfway there, Hermione seemed to snap out of her trance-like state, and fixed Ron with the most loathing gaze she could muster. She slapped him hard across the cheek, and he winced, rubbing it. "I really, really hate you," she said, simply. It would have been better if she had shouted. If she had screamed and shrieked and yelled obscenities at him, that would have been preferable. But this, this quiet, soft anger, was more terrifying than histrionics.

"Hermione," said Ginny, putting an arm around her friend. "Let's go. Come on."

Hermione shrugged off her arm. "I can't believe I was ever stupid enough to love you," she said, her voice cracking. She drew out her wand, her hand shaking slightly.

Quickly, Ginny put both her arms around her friend's waist, turning on the spot and apparating out of there before Hermione had a chance to realise what was going on. They arrived with a crack in the middle of George's flat.

"Let go of me!" Hermione shouted at Ginny, trying to pull her friend off her.

"Bit late for that, love," the other girl replied, stepping away from Hermione. The Weasley boys all looked at the two girls – one irate, her face flushed and angry, and her eyes pooled with tears, the other angry, too, but more worried – wondering what was going on.

"I am going to KILL HIM!" Hermione shrieked, her voice rising several octaves on the last two words.

"I know, 'Mione, I know," Ginny said, soothingly. "But why don't you just stay here for a bit and-"

"NO! Where is he? WHERE IS HE?" she began to turn on the spot, wand still grasped in her hand.

"Expelliarmus!" cried Ginny, and Hermione's wand flew out of her hand and into Ginny's. Hermione dived towards her friend, and Ginny threw the wand over to Charlie, whose Quidditch reflexes enabled him to catch it with ease.

"Ginny, what the hell is going on?" George asked, as Hermione ran towards Charlie, who threw the wand to Bill, on the other side of the room. Hermione changed course, and nearly ran into him, but the wand had already made its way over to Ginny, then on to Percy, and back to Charlie.

"Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!" Hermione yelled, as she played a slightly surreal game of piggy-in-the-middle with the Weasleys.

"Ron's got a bit on the side,"" replied Ginny. George looked confused. "He's seeing someone else. She walked in on them kissing. I need to get a calming draught down her – she's slightly hysterical."

"I gathered that," George replied, wincing in sympathy as Hermione tripped over the coffee table and landed with a crash on her backside.

Ginny saw her chance, and took it. "Petrificalus totalus!" she cried, and her friend fell over completely and gave her a look that would have had her six feet under, if looks could kill. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," she said, sounding genuinely apologetic, and using a hover charm to lift her into one of the armchairs. The only response was her friend's glare deepening.

Bill, Charlie and Percy looked on, confused; Percy's glasses slightly askew, and Bill clutching Hermione's wand.

"Ginny, what in the name of all that is holy is going on here?" asked Charlie, as George disappeared into the kitchen.

"At the party, Hermione, Harry and I went to get our cloaks, and we walked in on Ron and this . . . this woman snogging. Naturally, Hermione was a bit upset, so I needed to get her out of there before she did anything she'd regret. Also, I think she needs a calming draught. I brought her here because it's closest, and it's not exactly the first place that Ron's going to look for her," Ginny replied.

The boys still looked slightly confused, and were about to ask more questions, when Ginny's spell, which had not been very strong, wore off, and Hermione stood up and glared at them all.

"Thank you, Ginevra," she snarled. "I really needed everyone knowing my business!"

"Full names," whispered Bill, to Percy. "She really is mad!"

"Come on Hermione," Ginny said soothingly. "If you could just calm down a bit and-"

"CALM DOWN?!" repeated Hermione. "Need I remind you that I've just seen my boyfriend snogging some . . . some . . . some tarty woman, and you're telling me to calm down? How would you feel if this happened to you?"

"Well, I'm sure Ginny doesn't feel about Ron in that way," said Charlie, trying to make a joke out of the situation. At that very moment, he could quite easily have killed Ron, in the slowest, most painful way possible. He had come to the conclusion, earlier in the week, that if he couldn't have Hermione, he had to make sure she was as happy as possible with whomever she was dating at the time. As long as everything was going fine, he would stay out of it. However, the moment she became even remotely upset about something, he would pay the bloke who had upset her a visit, and he would –

"Oh, shut up Charlie! You're not funny!" Hermione snapped at him. He stopped smiling, and looked distinctly put out.

"I've got the calming draught," George said, coming in from the kitchen.

"I DO NOT NEED-" began Hermione, before stopping and taking a deep breath. "I do not need a calming draught," she finished, much more softly.

"Come on, 'Mione," wheedled Ginny. "Just a little bit won't hurt, and you'll feel so much better."

Hermione backed away from Ginny, who was advancing towards her with a bottle of potion and a determined look in her eyes, and crashed into the coffee table again, this time waking her head against it. She brought her had tentatively up to the back of her head, and said "Ouch," in a very small voice.

"Oh, Hermione," said Ginny, dropping down on her knees beside her friend and hugging her, having decided that she would give up on the calming draught for now. "Are you OK, sweetie?"

Hermione covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs, and shook her head vigorously from side to side. Ginny hugged her friend and murmured soothing words, which only served to make Hermione cry harder.

After about five minutes, she removed her hands from her face and wiped away her tears (one good thing about magical make-up was that it was all waterproof, and never ran), taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she tried to say normally, but her voice was growly and hoarse from too much crying.

"It's OK," soothed Ginny, rubbing her back.

"Well," Bill cleared his throat. "I say we go and kick his arse."

"Who's, Ron's?" asked Percy.

"Obviously," said George, rolling his eyes. "I'm in."

"Me, too," said Percy. "What about you, Charlie?"

"Oh, absolutely," Charlie replied. "Let's go, guys!"

"Not without me, you don't!" Ginny put in, standing up and pulling Hermione to her feet.

"Well, we're going to need a plan," said George. "You can help us with that."

Hermione wasn't sure whether they were joking or not. She suspected that they were, but you never knew with a Weasley . . . "Leave it, guys," she said. "It's OK. I'm OK."

"What, give up and miss out on all of the fun we had planned?" Bill pouted.

"Wait, we have a plan already? Why does no-one think to inform me of new developments?" Percy asked, also pouting.

"Yeah, the plan goes like this: Ginny body binds Ron, and we take it in turns to kick his butt for making Hermione cry," said George, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Now really," said Hermione. "What would your mother say; if she knew about the way I was encouraging such sibling hatred?"

"She would say, 'Why is Hermione doing such a terrible thing?', and we would explain what Ron had done to you. Then she would say 'Out of my way! I'm going to be first in line to kick his arse'!" replied Charlie. Hermione gave a watery smile.

"Now, you know your mother would never say 'arse'," she replied, but Charlie wasn't paying any attention to what she was saying.

"Look, look! A smile!" he crowed. "I got her to smile again!" Hermione tried to put her face straight, but the corners of her lips started to twitch. "Oh – there she goes again!" he cried, and Hermione laughed.

"Alright, alright, I'm smiling," she said, as the others laughed at Charlie's victory dance around the chaise lounge. "Look, no one is going to kicking Ron's butt except me, OK?"

The Weasleys pretended to look miserable, and Hermione laughed again. "I'm going to go home now. I'm sorry if I . . . you know, ruined your evening with my hysterics, or anything."

The boys protested, saying it was fine, she hadn't ruined anything and that they were about to go home anyway, when she had arrived, and she began to feel slightly less guilty. Ginny hugged her friend goodbye. "Do you want me to come back with you?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine," Hermione replied. Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Well, no, I'm not fine, but I at least feel a bit better than I did half an hour ago. And anyway, you have a match on Sunday. You need to stay fit for that – you know, get plenty of sleep and don't spend your time fussing over me." Ginny protested a little further, but Hermione insisted that she would be alright, and, collecting her wand from Bill, she flooed her flat.

"Will she be OK?" Charlie asked Ginny, concerned.

Ginny sighed. "Yeah. She'll get over him eventually, I reckon. I don't think that they were ever serious enough to end up getting married . . . I just thought that they'd end up drifting apart, you know? I never thought that something like this would happen . . ."

"Me either," said George. "I mean, Ron can be irritating sometimes, and he can be a bit selfish and he never thinks before he speaks, but I never thought he could be such a . . ." he drifted off, searching for the right word.

"Total bastard?" Charlie supplied.

"Well, yeah. He can be petty and sometimes a bit spiteful, but I'd never have thought that he'd just come out and do something quite so completely arsehole-ish. I mean, Jesus. It's pretty despicable," George continued.

"Maybe there's an explanation," said Percy, although the doubt was evident in his voice. "I mean, we all do stuff we're not proud of – really stupid stuff. Maybe we shouldn't be so quick to judge. We all have our regrets . . ."

The others understood that they weren't just talking about Ron anymore. "Yeah, Perce, perhaps you're right," said Ginny, coming to stand next to her brother. "Some people do stupid stuff. But it takes something to admit that you were stupid. To say you're sorry, and to try to make amends. Who knows if Ron'll be able to do that? If he'll be brave enough . . . like some people are." The others also understood Percy's need to spend a few moments frantically polishing and fiddling with his glasses.

"Thanks, Ginny," he murmured, looking at the floor.

"Well, I'd better be going!" said Bill. He said his goodbyes and flooed back to Shell Cottage, and then Percy did the same, going back to his own flat. Ginny hugged her remaining brothers, and took a handful of floo powder. Just before she tossed it into the fire, she turned and looked back.

"Charlie," she said, looking straight at him. "You will take care of Hermione, won't you? You'll . . . you will be able to look after her OK?"

Charlie opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Finally, he said, "Yes, Gin. I'll look after Hermione. I'll . . . yeah; I'll take care of her. And anyway," he added, his voice much lighter in tone, "I wrestle dragons for a living, as you guys are so fond of telling me. How hard can one Hermione be?"

Ginny just laughed. "Watch and learn, Char, watch and learn. What's that phrase? Oh yeah: hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. For the next few days, anything male and still breathing near her is going to piss her off pretty badly. I'd watch out, if I were you!" And, with a wink and a smile, she was gone.

"So, I guess I'll be going then," Charlie said, waiting for a "Goodbye!" or a "See ya!" or even a "Good luck!" from his brother.

Instead he got, "Hermione."

Charlie gave George a look that said you really have lost it, haven't you? "Umm, no, George. I'm Charlie."

"Oh, ha ha," replied his brother. "I'm saying: Hermione. We never guessed her, earlier. It's Hermione. Your mystery woman."

"Don't be absurd," said Charlie, and he might just have pulled it off, too, if the tips of his ears hadn't gone red. Goddamn Weasley blushing.

"Oho, it is!" cried George. "That was just a shot in the dark, but by George, I think he's cracked it!" he added, his voice every inch the English gentleman.

"Don't worry, Spellotape's meant to fix everything," Charlie said, sounding both jocular and slightly panicky at the same time.

"Now I really know it's her – you've resorted to terrible jokes – and that one was a stinker," George replied, frowning slightly. "Bloody hell, Charlie. She's seven years younger than you. She's going out with your kid brother. Or she was, at any rate. I mean, I know siblings should share, but that's a bit much, don't'cha think?"

"You think I haven't told myself all this already?" Charlie asked aggressively. "You have no idea, none at all – so just shut the hell up and-"

"OK, alright," George said, holding up his hands. "Calm down. I won't say anything. It just surprised me, that's all. Hermione as your mystery woman. I didn't think she was your type, that's all."

"Hmpf," said Charlie. "Yeah, well. It's not like I'm gonna have a chance with her, is it?"

"You never know," replied George. "After all, she might get horrendously drunk one day and kind of fall over you and accidentally have sex with you, or something."

"Yeah . . . or something," Charlie said, wondering whether all the products George had tested for the shop on himself had finally managed to addle his brain somehow. "Anyway, I have to go."

He took a big handful of floo powder, and as he stepped into the fireplace, he could hear his brother singing. "Charlie and Hermione, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a golden carriage!" Honestly. He was so immature.

Fairly early the next morning, Hermione got up, going to wash her hair. She hadn't slept very well, although this was hardly surprising, and she knew that, it being seven forty-five now, she was unlikely to get back off to sleep again.

Her hair had been filled with potions the night before, something she only ever really bothered with when she wanted to look nice for parties and things, as it took such a long time, and the products were really expensive. She couldn't afford to do it everyday. Actually, why had she bothered to dress up nicely, and do fancy things with her hair? It wasn't like it was worth it – she'd managed to start the evening with a boyfriend, and end it without. That was the last time she bothered to look pretty, then!

Urgh – the potions made her hair feel disgusting. She'd washed it twice already, and it still wasn't back to how it usually felt. She opened the shampoo bottle for a third time, but only a tiny smidgen came out. Grr. She hated the manufacturers of her shampoo, who hadn't thought to make it come in bigger bottles. She hated Ginny, for making her dress up in the first place, and filling her hair with stupid potions (even though she'd asked her to). She hated Ginny for having a good relationship – for being engaged, even, when she, Hermione, was boyfriend-less (although she wouldn't want her to break up with Harry, she supposed).

Harry. She hated Harry for trying to distract her attention from Ron, when he was snogging that woman last night (although she loved him for trying to look after her, and not upset her). She hated that woman, whoever she was. What had she got that Hermione hadn't? (Apart from gorgeous hair that was probably never frizzy, boobs the size of beach balls and a flawless complexion . . .)

She hated Charlie, for being so nice to her last night (but she hated herself more, for being such a bitch to him, until he had eventually just gone to his room, hurt). She hated Bill and Percy and George for seeing her in the state she had been in last night, teary and snotty and hysterical (then again, she hated herself more for not being able to control herself, and acting like a five year old who didn't get what she wanted).

She loved Molly, who had given her a delicious, huge chocolate cake the other day – just what she needed right now (though Molly probably loathed her right now, given that she had just broken up with her son and everything).

Hermione finally finished washing her hair, and stepped out of the shower. She sighed. She wasn't even going to start thinking about Ron. Life really sucked, sometimes. Pulling on an old, baggy T-Shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, she left her hair as it was – what was the point in trying to look good when she didn't have anyone to impress? – and went in search of breakfast.

On the way to the kitchen, she saw Charlie, standing in the doorway of his room and looking distinctly unwell. "Charlie?" she asked, concerned. "Are you OK?"

He coughed, and gave her a wan smile. "I think I've got this flu thing that's going round at work," he replied, his voice hoarse and stuffed-up sounding. He was shivering violently, but when Hermione put a hand on his face, he felt ridiculously warm. "I was wondering if you have another duvet I could borrow?" he asked, stammering on every word, he was shivering so hard.

"Of course I do – look, you go straight back to bed, where you belong, and I'll bring you some more blankets and some Pepper-Up potion, alright?" Hermione replied. She felt incredibly guilty – she was so worked up in her own troubles, she hadn't noticed that Charlie was ill. Hurriedly, she turned up the heat in the small flat with her wand, and gathered up some extra blankets. Luckily, she had a new bottle of Pepper-Up potion in her medicine cabinet, and she also picked up a sleeping draught for good measure.

She entered Charlie's room, and gave him the blankets, helping to arrange them on his bed. She poured out a measure of Pepper-Up into a glass and handed it to him. "Thanks, Hermione," he croaked, drinking it gratefully.

"Are you going to be OK?" she asked. "Do you want me to fetch your Mum – or take you to St. Mungo's or anything?"

"Nah – I'll be alright soon, having had that," he replied. "I always run really high temperatures when I'm ill – Mum always used to say I wouldn't get a cold if I could get flu. And I'm always OK after about twelve hours or so."

Hermione handed him a glass of water. "Drink," she said, firmly. "You need to keep your fluids up; else you'll really be in trouble. Did you get much sleep last night?"

"Not really," said Charlie. "Probably only a couple of hours."

"Then have some of this sleeping draught – it'll make things easier for you. You need plenty of sleep," Hermione responded, pouring out a measure into a cup and handing it to him.

"Thanks, 'Mione," he said, taking it. "You're just like Mum – mother henning people."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You need mother henning," she said. "Anyway, I'm really sorry I was such a bitch to you last night – it won't have helped. I didn't mean to take things out on you."

"It's OK," said Charlie, his eyes starting to close. "'M fine. You didn't make me ill. 'M going to go to sleep now . . ." Charlie drifted off, and Hermione left his room, pausing to tuck the blankets in around him. Charlie was so much sweeter than his little brother.

Hermione spent the day doing housework, slipping out at about two o'clock to get some groceries, and doing the odd bit of work for her degree. Knowing that many of their students would spend the weekend partying and recovering from partying, the Professors hadn't bothered to set any homework, but Hermione was of the opinion that you could never, ever read enough books on a subject, so she still had plenty to do. And reading provided more of a distraction from the topic of Ron than, say, cleaning the bathroom did.

At about four pm, she went to check on Charlie. He was just stirring as she walked in. "Hey, sleepyhead. You feeling any better?" she asked.

Charlie yawned. "Much better than before," he said, smiling up at her. She couldn't help noticing how cute he looked, with his red hair sticking up in tufts and that sleepy smile on his face. She forced herself to stop thinking about him like that.

"So . . . do you want a drink?" she asked, watching as he threw off all of the blankets except one.

"Please," he croaked his voice still hoarse. She summoned a glass of water from the kitchen, and handed it to him. He drank it thirstily, and then looked slightly sheepish as his stomach growled loudly.

Hermione jumped up. "I'll go and get you something to eat," she said, glad of something to do. Charlie slept topless, and she was getting very distracted by his abs – and now really wasn't the time to be doing so. She heated a bowl of soup for him, trying to get a grip on her hormones, and, thankfully for her, by the time she re-entered his room, he had put a t-shirt on (though she could still see his very muscular arms . . .)

Charlie noticed Hermione checking out his body, and smirked. Hermione blushed. "I've brought you some soup," she said, handing the bowl to him.

"Mmm, tomato," Charlie replied. "My favourite," he added, looking straight at Hermione. She blushed, and started picking up the blankets off the floor. Bending down, she knocked a comb off the bedside table.

"I'll get it," they both said at the same time, reaching for it. Hermione picked it up and found herself eye-to-eye with Charlie. They were far too close, but neither of them backed away. Hermione was reminded of their almost-kiss last night, something she had forgotten about until now, with all the craziness that had been going on. She was sure Charlie was going to kiss her again . . . until he pulled back, going back to his soup. She felt a wave of disappointment wash over her, and instantly scolded herself. Honestly, you only broke up with Ron last night! Talk about being on the rebound she thought to herself.

"You have beautiful eyes," said Charlie.

"I'm sorry?" she asked him, convinced she had heard wrong.

"I said, you have beautiful eyes," Charlie repeated.

"Oh, please!" she scoffed, embarrassed. "That's such a non-compliment. People say that just 'cause there's nothing else nice to concentrate on!" Instantly, she regretted her words. Charlie was only trying to be nice, after all. "But, um, thanks anyway," she finished, lamely.

Charlie smiled. "It's true. You have the longest eyelashes I've ever seen."

"Longest . . . eyelashes?" Hermione asked, convinced she had heard him wrong.

"Yeah. You do," said Charlie. "And you have really nice hands, too."

"What is this, the campaign for the celebration of often-unnoticed body parts?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, something like that," replied Charlie.

"Well, in that case," said Hermione, sitting down on the end of his bed. "Charlie Weasley, you have gorgeous knees."

Charlie snorted. "Hermione, your nostrils really turn me on," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I'm beginning to develop a fetish for your earlobes," Hermione confined.

"It's OK, love," he replied. "Many other women have told me the same thing. And I really do have a disturbing fetish for your toenails."

Hermione couldn't believe how brazenly flirty she was being. It was so unlike her – and, at the same time, so much fun. "Charlie, I'm in love with your . . . your . . . oh, I can't think of anything!" she pouted.

"That's alright. You're just in love with all of me. I can cope with that," he said, grinning at her, before coughing madly. Hermione winced at the sound.

"That's sounds terrible," she said, pouring him another cupful of Pepper-Up potion. "Here, drink some of this."

"I don't really need-"

"Drink it!"

Charlie drank it. Hermione giggled. "What's so funny?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You, with steam coming out of your ears," she replied.

Charlie glowered at her. "If you make one single redhead temper mark, I will kill you," he said. Hermione pretended to look scared.

"You know," she said, after a few minutes pause, "when I was ill as a kid, there was one thing I was allowed to do as a treat that I wasn't allowed to do at any other time, and it always used to make me feel better."

"What was that?" asked Charlie. Hermione didn't reply, but summoned a rather battered looking cardboard box into the room.

"This has got all the stuff in from my parent's house – undetectable extension charm," she added, at Charlie's questioning look. "Now, if I can just get what I'm looking for . . ." She rooted around in the box, waving her wand to reveal hidden layers. "Here, hold these," she said, handing Charlie a Monopoly game, a set of Enid Blyton books, Trivial Pursuit, Deluxe Edition and a photo album.

"Hey, muggles have Trivial Pursuit, too! Were you any good at it? Can I look at your baby photos? What's Monopoly? And who's Enid Blyton?" Charlie asked, sifting through the items he had been handed.

"I was the champion at it in our household; no, you can't; a board game; and a muggle children's author from the fifties and sixties," Hermione replied. "Anyway, those weren't what I was looking for: this is!" She pulled something fairly big and rather heavy from inside the box.

"What's that?" asked Charlie, helping her to put the other objects back inside their container.

"It's a T.V.!" Hermione told him.

"A T.P.?" Charlie asked. "Isn't that a tent thing that people used to live in in the Stone Age and stuff?"

Hermione giggled. "No, silly, that's a tipi. This is a T.V.," she replied.

"Oh?" said Charlie. "What's one of those?"

"A T.V. is like a . . . like a . . . it's like a theatre, in a small box. Kind of," said Hermione. "It's hard to explain. There are all sorts of programmes available on it," she continued. "There's the news, and documentaries on all sorts of subjects, and soaps – nothing to do with the thing you wash yourself with – they're meant to be realistic portrayals of everyday life. But they're a bit . . . overly dramatic. But yeah, you get loads of stuff on T.V. – loads of rubbish, but loads of really good stuff, too. And when I was ill, I was allowed to watch T.V. in my bedroom – that was the only time. The other times, I had to make do with watching it downstairs in the lounge."

Charlie looked at the box. It didn't look that impressive. It was fairly small in width, but bulky at the back, and it had a thin pointy thing, slightly bent, sticking out of the top. "Surely it runs on that muggle thing . . . what's it called? Electricity, that's the one. How're you going to make it work?" he asked, as Hermione set it down on the chest-of-drawers and fiddled about with the plug (he knew about plugs. You weren't Arthur Weasley's son without knowing about plugs).

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Hermione asked. "This block of flats is owned by a muggle landlord. There just happens to be a lot of wizards living here, who, like me, prefer to use magic all the time. But there is electricity available." She plugged the T.V. in and it clicked into life.

Sitting down on the end of Charlie's bed, she started to flick through the channels. "OK, then," she said, turning to him expectantly. "What do you want to watch?"

He watched as she flicked through the channels, then something caught his eye. "Hey, wait, go back to that," he said, and Hermione flicked backwards.

"This?" she asked. He nodded. "But Charlie, this is just the adverts!"

"Well, yeah, but keep it on anyway," he said, watching agog as adverts for bread, mouthwash, a blender, and Marks and Spencer's followed each other on to the screen.

Hermione looked at him. "What's so interesting about adverts?" she asked.

"All those things that muggles have . . . they're just so interesting," he said.

"What, like bread?" Hermione teased.

"Well, not the things themselves, it's the way they're sold. I just find it really fascinating," he replied. He looked slightly disappointed when the programme resumed, and Hermione flicked through the channels until she found some more adverts.

When these finished, the news resumed, and Hermione kept the channel on, much to Charlie's disappointment. "Hey!" he cried. "I want to watch the adverts!"

"Tough!" said Hermione, holding the remote control above her head as he dived towards it.

"Oh, so that's how you want to play, is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I must warn you, I fight dirty."

"Oh, please," scoffed Hermione. "You're nothing I can't handle." He swiped towards her again, but once more she lifted the remote above her head, so he couldn't reach it. He repeated his move, and she dodged again, but this time she fell back against the footboard of his bed, squished awkwardly. Charlie noticed this, and, with a gleam in his eye, started to tickle her feet.

Hermione wriggled uncomfortably – she was exceedingly ticklish, but also determined not to show any weakness. She tried to not even smile, as Charlie's hands reached her toes, but, eventually, she could hold in her giggles no longer. She shrieked with laughter as Charlie tickled her mercilessly. "Do you surrender?" he cried.

"No, never! I'm-AAH! STOP IT! STOP!" she squealed, giggling harder than ever. Charlie didn't relent, showing her no mercy.

"I warned you that I fight dirty," was all he had to say, as she tried to wriggle away. Suddenly he stopped, looking over at someone in the doorway, a mixture of guilt, anger and surprise on his face.

Hermione, lying on her back with her head pressed up against the footboard of the bed, and her legs bent at the knees, had a very good view of Ron, albeit an upside-down one. Flushing, she rolled over on to her stomach, and from there she scrambled - as elegantly as was possible – into a sitting position. She had more or less given up on retaining any dignity. "Yes?" she asked, coldly. "What do you want?"

"I came over to talk about last night," Ron replied. "I didn't realise you had . . . company," he added, with a slight sneer.

"Don't you start telling me who I can and can't-" began Hermione furiously, but Charlie interrupted her.

"Look, Ron. I am not 'company'," he said, making air quotes around the word. "I am your brother. I'm here because Hermione was kind enough to offer me a place to stay whilst I was in the country working for the new reserve in Wales. That's it. So don't take that tone with her – especially if you want her to ever speak to you again, given the show you put on last night!"

Ron had the grace to look ashamed. "Sorry," he muttered. "Look, Hermione. Could I talk to you for a minute, please?"

"I suppose," Hermione said stiffly.

"Um . . . in private?" he asked.

Hermione sighed and stood up, walking out of Charlie's room and into the living room, where she took a seat. Ron followed her, meekly. He sat down opposite her, and opened his mouth. "Look, Hermione," he said, glancing at her. "I have some things to say to you . . . about last night and stuff . . . and I would really appreciate it if you could just hear me out . . . I don't care what you do after that, but I'd just like you to listen, OK?"

Hermione nodded mutely. She was embarrassed at being caught like that with Charlie, and angry with Ron that he made her feel slightly guilty about it – and that was before she even started thinking about her feelings about what had gone on last night.

"Look, I know what you think happened last night," he said, holding up his hands as she opened her mouth angrily. "You promised!" he reminded her. "Just listen. Last night, you agreed to come home with me, and I went to fetch our cloaks. When I went to get them, a woman in the cloakroom pounced on me and started to kiss me. I assumed she'd mistaken me for her boyfriend or something, and I kind of . . . pushed her off me, but then she said that she'd been watching me all evening, and she really wanted to be with me. And I was all, 'Well, I already have a girlfriend' but she was a bit drunk . . . she kept trying to kiss me, but I was wriggling away, and then I think she must've hit me with a jinx or a charm or something, 'cause all of a sudden, she was all I could think of . . . and then you walked in, and it wore off pretty quickly."

"That," said Hermione, "is the most ridiculous story I've ever heard! You can't seriously expect me to believe that?"

Ron grimaced. "I thought you'd say that," he said, "so I brought this with me." He drew a small vial out of his pocket. "Truth telling potion, you know?"

"Yes, I do know," snapped Hermione. "I'm not stupid."

Ron drank it. "Do you want me to repeat the story?" he asked.

"Is it true?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes," Ron's reply was immediate.

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again. So, it seemed Ron had a reasonable excuse for what he had done. She felt slightly mean about what she had said to him the other night . . .

"So, what's going on with you and Charlie?" he asked.

Actually, she didn't feel mean at all. She glared at him. "Nothing is going on with me and Charlie, other than the fact that he is staying here whilst he has to be in this country. That's all," she replied.

"That's OK then," Ron said. Then, suddenly, he added, "Why do you always treat me like I'm stupid?" He slapped his hand over his mouth – evidently the potion was revealing more than he had bargained for.

"I don't . . . do I?" Hermione asked. Ron nodded. "Well, why do you not care about me?"

"I do!" Ron protested. "I'm just . . ."

"Not very good at showing it?" Hermione supplied. He nodded again.

"I don't think we should be going out anymore," he said, regretting the moment he had swallowed the potion.

Hermione looked hurt, then considered for a moment. "You know, Ron," she said. "I think that's the best idea you've had in ages."

Ron looked appalled. "It's only the potion talking!" he cried. "I don't really think-"

"Evidently, you do really think that," said Hermione. "But I agree with you. Our problem is, we fight too much. I just don't think that we're suited as a couple."

"You don't?" asked Ron, sadly.

"No Ron. I'd like to stay friends with you, but I don't want to date you any more. There's just too much tension between us," Hermione replied. "And evidently, there are some women who are just dying to get their hands on you!" she joked.

He gave a wan smile. "This has been coming on for a while, hasn't it?" he asked. Hermione nodded. "You know, I think it might be for the best. Can you imagine how much we'd argue if we got married?"

Hermione gave a small chuckle. "Yeah . . . we'd be getting divorced the same day – if we could even agree on that!"

"Yeah . . ." Ron sighed.

Hermione came and sat down next to him. "Ron, I don't regret for a moment the time we had together – except possibly last night, but let's gloss over that for now! But I think it's time we realised what's been staring us in the face for a while now: that we're just not suited to a long term partnership. I say we give up now, whilst we still have good memories, and can still remain friends, rather than wait five years and become so bitter and twisted that we can't remember the good times," she said.

"You know, Hermione, you really are very clever," Ron said, giving her a hug. "I agree. Let's split up, but go back to being friends. I'd really miss that – being friends, I mean."

She returned his hug. "Friends it is, then," she replied.

"I'd better be going," he said, standing up. "Tell Charlie 'hi' from me, and that I'm sorry for earlier."

"I will," said Hermione. "Use the floo, if you want. Oh, and Ron – one more thing?" He turned and looked back at her. "Your Mum doesn't know that Charlie's staying here – she'd think it was really inappropriate, you know, for an unmarried couple to be living together." Ron nodded. "So, um, we'd both really appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything to her?"

"I won't" he promised. "But if he hurts you – I'm telling you now, I'll-"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ronald! Charlie's not going to do anything to hurt me – and anyway, don't the words pot, kettle and black mean anything to you?" Hermione replied.

Ron looked sheepish. "I guess," he said. "Anyway, I promise not to say anything to Mum. I'll . . . see you around, I guess."

"Yeah – I'll meet you and Harry for lunch on Monday?" she suggested.

"Cool," said Ron. "I'll see you then!" He stepped into the fire, and was gone in a whirl of flames.

Hermione sighed, feeling calmer than she had in ages. At least until Charlie said, "Just friends, huh?" and made her jump out of her skin.

"Merlin's pants, you scared me!" she gasped. "And do you have a habit of listening at doors?" She glared at him standing in the doorway of his room.

"Well, you did leave the door open," he pointed out. "And even shut . . . well, it's not exactly soundproof, is it?" he asked.

"I suppose," conceded Hermione.

"Anyway," Charlie continued. "Are you OK now?"

"I'm . . . I'm really good, thanks!" Hermione replied, smiling. "I just feel . . . good. I mean, I feel like the whole me and Ron going out thing was so expected . . . it was just so much pressure . . . and I've always loved Ron, but just not in that way . . . but everyone was like 'oh, you make such a cute couple!' that I just didn't think we could be anything else . . . am I making any sense?"

Charlie nodded. "I get you. You've finally realised that you don't have to do something just because people expect you to. You've got to look out for yourself, sometimes," he said seriously.

Hermione smiled. "Yes. That's it entirely. And I feel so . . . great! Like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders." There was a pause, then she added. "Anyway, how do you feel about dinner? I'll get it – you're ill."

"But you can't cook!" Charlie teased.

"I managed soup, didn't I?" Hermione responded. "Anyway, there's a pizza place about half a mile in that direction." She pointed left. "How'd you feel about cheese and tomato?"

"I feel very much like cheese and tomato," Charlie said.

"Good!" Hermione, grabbing a coat. "I'll go and get two, and meet you back here in twenty minutes or so!"

And she apparated away, feeling the best she had for ages.

I don't know if that was too OOC of a reaction on Hermione's part . . . it was really hard to write! Let me know what you think – I was kinda inspired by the bits in GoF and DH where she rants and raves at Ron lol

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