DISCLAIMER: Don't own Harry Potter The rest of the weekend passed easily enough – Hermione and Charlie went to Shell Cottage for Sunday lunch, because "Fleur had accidentally brought a big chicken" according to Bill, when his head appeared in the fireplace, and that was nice, and Charlie recovered quickly from his illness.
They both went to work on Monday as usual, and from then onwards their days fell into a new pattern. Mornings were usually a mad rush of having breakfast, showering, finding books and papers dotted around the flat, and leaving for work. Charlie left later than Hermione, who tended to arrive at the Ministry at about 8:15 am, leaving her half an hour to go to visit her friends – Harry and Ron down in the Auror department; Mr Weasley in his office in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department; Percy, always at his desk and firing off important looking memos even though most people were still arriving and other ex-Hogwarts students who worked in the various departments – before heading off to her lecture hall at around 8:45.
The work she did during the day was hard, but most of it was interesting, and she had her two French friends – Isabelle and Coralie, whom she had grown quite close to – to talk to during breaks. At lunchtime, she generally ate with Harry and Ron; though occasionally she would head off to the massive library on the fifth floor of the Ministry (which contained over 23 miles of books) to do some research.
Afternoon classes were more interesting, as the students would debate issues and laws they were studying and criticise each others work. Depending on how nice (or eager to get away from them) the day's professor was, they would be let out sometime between three and four o'clock and Hermione would generally spend an hour or so in the library, checking out useful books for the day's topic.
She would get back to her flat before Charlie and make a start on her essays, before he arrived back, at around 5:30 pm. He would make a start on dinner and she would help – although her assistance usually came in the form of handing him various pots and pans, and peeling the odd vegetable. It somehow became a ritual, though, that she would always come in, and they would talk to each other, about anything and everything.
Charlie learnt about life at the Ministry; Hermione's early childhood, before going to Hogwarts; what her favourite subjects had been, and why; which of the Professors at the Ministry she liked and disliked and small things, like the fact that she loved chocolate, but didn't really care for sweets, that she had been scared of flying ever since she had seen Neville Longbottom fall off his broom in her first year, and that she could play the flute very well.
In turn, Hermione learnt similar small things about Charlie – that he was allergic to watermelon, but would occasionally eat it anyway because it tasted so nice; that when he was thirteen he had wanted to teach at Hogwarts because he had had a crush on the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher (a woman from Beauxbatons, on a year's exchange in the country); that he was originally keeper on the Gryffindor team, until he (and the team) realised that he would make a much, much better seeker. She also learnt other, more important stuff about him – why he loved his job so much, about his friend Griff, who had been killed by a dragon in his first year as a keeper (one of the very few reasons why he didn't love his job) and more about his childhood, growing up in the infamous Weasley clan.
They would continue talking through dinner, then clear up and spend a couple of hours writing essays and doing other paperwork; then, if necessary Charlie would quiz Hermione if she had a test the next day, or Hermione would sign forms from the Reserve.
Then they would go to bed, and get up and do the whole thing all over again.
Hermione liked routine, and having everyday laid out in the same way for her was not boring, but reassuring. She didn't cope well with change, even changes for the better, like her break-up with Ron. (It was for the better, wasn't it? She was only twenty, but many of her friends were engaged already . . . and she had to put so much work into her degree, which she wouldn't complete for another three years, so she wasn't going to be able to start meeting new people until then. Perhaps she should have stayed with Ron, after all. Generally, he wasn't a bad person . . . just annoying, and slightly selfish, but he wasn't evil or anything. But whenever she found herself thinking this, she reminded herself that she didn't necessarily need a boyfriend – honestly, she was a grown woman, who had a brilliant reputation that had nothing to do with whom she was or wasn't dating – and anyway, she and Ron were not really romantically compatible. If she had married him, she'd most likely have ended up hating him.)
Charlie always seemed to be able to tell when she was feeling down though, and was always on hand to cheer her up. It reminded her very much of the summer before her fourth year, which she had spent at The Burrow, for the Quidditch World Cup – the summer she had first met Charlie . . .
Hermione shrieked as she watched Ginny propel herself off the swing in the garden and fly through the air, landing with a gentle thud on the ground. "Stop it!" she cried. "You'll hurt yourself!"
"No, I won't," Ginny replied, slightly bemused at her reaction. "It's fine – I've been doing it for years, and the worst thing that ever happened to me was when I grazed my elbows. You have a go," she encouraged. Hermione shook her head very firmly from side to side. "Oh, I forgot," Ginny said, sympathetically. "You don't like heights, do you?"
"Well, it's not heights as such," Hermione responded. "I'm just afraid of falling. I never used to be, but you heard what happened to Neville, in my first flying lesson at Hogwarts?" Ginny nodded. "Well . . . I'm afraid of that happening to me."
"I understand," said Ginny. "I used to be the same."
"You used to be afraid of heights?" Hermione asked. She hadn't seen Ginny flying – this was only her second day at The Burrow, and she'd arrived the previous day after dinner, so the girls had spent the evening unpacking her stuff and talking – but she had heard her talk about it, and from her enthusiastic tales you would never guess that she had once been terrified of brooms.
But her friend nodded. "Oh yes, I was absolutely petrified of them for a few months. It was just after I'd learnt to fly, and I was zooming round the garden on my own on one of the brooms. I'm still not sure what happened, but suddenly the broom was in an uncontrollable dive, and I slid right off the end. I must've fallen a good thirty feet. Fortunately, once I'd been to St Mungos, I was right as rain, but for at least three months after that I completely refused to get on a broom," she said.
"But you fly now?" Hermione asked.
"Oh yes, my brothers taught me. Bill and Charlie mostly – they'd just do five minutes or so a day, starting only about a foot off the ground to build up my confidence, and . . . well, now, you can't get me off the things!" Ginny replied. "So, if you wanted to learn, we could take things really slowly; you know, just flying a few feet off the ground, see how things go?"
"OK then," Hermione replied, before she could chicken out. The girls made their way down to the broom shed, where they met Ron. They explained the plan, and Ron agreed to help Hermione learn.
"Right," said Ginny, once they were in the open field to the back of the house. "Hold your hand above the broom and say 'UP!'. Remember to sound really confident."
"UP!" cried Hermione, and to her surprise the broom did fly up into her hand. "Oh!" she exclaimed, sounding hugely surprised. "I mean, that's good," she added, more nonchalantly.
Ginny laughed. She and Ron ran through the basics on how to control a broom with her, and after about twenty minutes, Hermione was zooming round the field, at about three feet of the ground. Once she was confident at that height, Ginny suggested that they go higher, and then higher still. After an hour or so, Hermione was beginning to relax a little bit more. Ginny had given her a family broom, designed for an adult and a small child, or a learner, which wasn't very fast, but it was very smooth. She was able to turn it gently, and there were no jerky moments, so she felt much safer than she had the one time she had ridden a school broom, which had jerked about all over the place.
They were about thirty feet off the ground, but Hermione hardly noticed anymore, and occasionally she would climb higher still. Ron suggested a game of broom tag (which was, as the name suggested, exactly the same as muggle tag, but on a broom) and Hermione volunteered to be 'it'. She got Ginny, who in turn got Ron. Ron got Ginny back almost straight away, and then she got Hermione. There was quite a long gap, when Hermione struggled to catch either Ron or Ginny, but eventually she got Ginny again, who snuck up on Ron and caught him. Ron came zooming towards Hermione, much quicker than she expected, and she wasn't able to react fast enough. He bumped into her, and her broom went into a steep, uncontrollable dive. She slid so far forwards that eventually, about eight feet above the ground, she fell of the end of the broom, and landed on her back with a groan.
"Bloody hell!" she heard a male voice exclaim, and felt footsteps pounding the ground, getting closer and closer.
"Stupid idiot," agreed another, also male, voice.
"No-one flies like that," the first voice said.
The footsteps stopped, and Hermione opened her eyes. Above her were two very tall, red-headed figures, whom she hadn't seen before – obviously the legendary Bill and Charlie. But Ginny had said they were nice and friendly – not critical of people when they fell off their brooms!
"I am not an idiot," she said, outrage in her voice. "And I can't help my bad flying – it was only the second time I've ever been on a broom!"
"Oh, we weren't talking about you," said the shorter, stockier of the two.
"It was Ron," said the other boy. "Ron's the one flying like that at a beginner; he's insane! No-one should do that. He is an idiot." He helped her to her feet.
"You can say that again," muttered Hermione, and the two boys – men, really – laughed.
"Are you alright?" asked the first one, catching her as she staggered slightly.
Hermione nodded, once she had regained her balance. "It wasn't that far to fall, I guess," she said. "I'm OK – just a bit bruised in the pride department. Oh dear, is that broom alright?" she added pointing to where it was impaled in the ground, like an enormous arrow.
The taller one pulled it out of the ground, and studied it. "Don't worry, it's fine," he reassured her.
"Ahem," said the other one, nodding towards the sky. Ginny and Ron were about ten feet above them, Ron visibly cowering as Ginny laid into him. The three on the ground laughed. The youngest Weasleys eventually landed, and Ron made his way sheepishly over to her. "Sorry, Hermione," he muttered. "I forgot you weren't very good." He said bluntly.
"RON!" shouted Ginny, appalled. "That is NOT how you apologise to someone!"
"Sorry, sorry!" Ron said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry!"
"Honestly, Ron," said one of Ginny's brothers. "In order to make things up to the charming Miss Granger here, you can go and fetch us ALL some lemonade from the kitchen. And some of Mum's brownies too, if she'll let you have 'em!"
Ron sighed and trudged off resignedly. Ginny giggled at his evident displeasure, then turned to Hermione. "Are you OK?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Hermione replied.
"What about the fear factor? Are you never getting on a broom again?" Ginny asked. She had spent the best part of an afternoon making sure that Hermione felt comfortable and relaxed on a broom, and would have been disappointed to see all her work go to waste.
"Mmm . . . I think I'll be alright with it," Hermione replied, considering. "I mean, I was going pretty well, until it happened . . . and I only fell off 'cause Ron crashed in to me. I think I'll be alright," she said.
"Was that your first time on a broom?" the shorter one asked, slight amazement in his voice.
"Yes," replied Hermione. "Unless you count about three minutes on a broom in first year."
"Honestly, Char," said the other brother, rolling his eyes. "Not everyone lives for flying as much as you do!" Ginny laughed. "Anyway, Gin, aren't you going to introduce us to this lovely young lady?"
"Oh, right, yeah. Sorry," Ginny said. "Hermione, these are my brothers, Bill-" she pointed to the taller boy, with the earring and ponytail, "-and Charlie," she indicated the slightly shorter, stockier boy, who resembled Fred and George. "Guys, this is Hermione Granger, smartest witch at Hogwarts."
Hermione blushed pink, as the boys laughed. "Ginny, I'm not—" she began, but her friend cut across her.
"Smartest witch at Hogwarts," she repeated. "And yet she's still friends with Ron! I don't know . . ." she said, shaking her head.
"OI!" yelled Ron, coming across the field. "I heard that!" The tray with the drinks wobbled dangerously, but Bill lazily summoned it from his brother before the glass' contents could spill, and everyone laughed good-naturedly. They sat under the shade of the big oak tree, sipping lemonade and eating Molly's delicious home-baked brownies. Bill and Charlie competed with each other with tales of their respective workplaces, to see who had the funniest story, the weirdest story, the scariest story and the most dangerous story, all of which seemed to involve copious amounts of alcohol.
"Oh, I forgot to mention," said Ron, after about forty-five minutes. "Mum wants us all – except you, Hermione, cause you're a guest – to de-gnome the garden."
There were general moans and groans, but everyone got to their feet and sauntered down to the garden, including Hermione. "How'd you de-gnome a garden?" she asked.
"How to de-gnome a garden? Well, now, let me see what Lockheart has to say on the subject," said Ginny, in a perfect imitation of Molly. The others laughed.
"Watch and learn, Hermione, watch and learn," said Charlie, winking at her. She sat on the wall, and watched as the four of them each picked up a gnome by it's ears and swung it round their heads, like a lasso. Suddenly, they let go, and the gnomes flew out of their grasps, flying over the fence and landing with soft thuds.
"Pathetic," Charlie said to Ron, teasing.
"You can't talk, Char," Bill said, coming to his brother's defence. "You throw like a girl!"
"Hey!" said Charlie and Ginny, together. All four of them turned to look at Hermione, who was still sitting on the wall, but with a shocked expression on her face, her mouth hanging open.
"That's . . . that's horrible!" she said, appalled. "How can you do that to them? It's so cruel!"
"It doesn't hurt them, Hermione," Ron said, slightly amused. "They like it." Hermione looked disbelieving.
"Honestly, it's OK," Ginny reassured her. "They just get a bit disorientated. They'll be OK."
"Yeah," Charlie agreed. "The little buggers'll be climbing back through the fence later anyway, and we'll have to do all this again next week. They get their own back."
Hermione looked unconvinced. "Look, 'Mione," said Ginny, hurling a gnome over the fence. "Charlie says it's OK, so it must be. He did Care of Magical Creatures at N.E.W.T level, and got an 'O' in it. He's slightly more obsessed with animals than Hagrid is. If he thinks it's not harmful to them, then it really isn't.
Hermione was still unconvinced, but right then, a gnome crept up and bit her on the ankles, and she shrieked. "Right, that's it," she said, in a decisive tone. "I'll help." The others showed her how to throw the gnomes, but she was such a poor shot that she was more of a hindrance than a help and she was soon told, politely but firmly by the Weasley children, that she ought to give up, because she was making their job harder, so she went inside to help Mrs. Weasley instead.
The next day, she and Ginny had flown up onto the roof of The Burrow, with a picnic, and were lazing about in the sun (or in the case of Ginny, in the shade from one of the many chimneys). Just after they had finished, they were joined by Bill and Charlie, and not longer after that, Ron and the twins. Percy had the day off from the Ministry, but he was busy working in his room, and didn't join them.
"Hey, fellas," Fred said, after around half an hour, turning to George, Charlie and Bill with a gleam in his eye. "Don't'cha think it's time we introduced Ginny, Ron and Hermione here to that wonderful game of yours?"
"What game?" asked Charlie and Bill, but George had caught on.
"Why, the wonderful game you two taught us," he said. "That involves courage—"
"And daring—" added Fred.
"And fearless nerve—" put in George.
"And—" began Fred.
"Yeah, yeah, alright," said Ron. "Just tell us what it is."
"We shall go one better," said George.
"We shall demonstrate," his twin said.
"Is this going to be very safe?" Hermione whispered to Ginny.
"Of course," said Charlie, overhearing and winking at her. "Bill and I invented it." Somehow, Hermione didn't feel very reassured.
"Ready, Fred?" asked George.
"Ready, George," Fred replied. Hermione looked over to them. They had climbed to the highest part of the roof, and were holding their brooms above their heads. She wondered what they were going to do. "If you could?" Fred seemed to be addressing his brothers. Bill and Charlie waved their wands and all the picnic stuff disappeared. Then Bill took Hermione's hand, and took her over to the far left of the roof. Charlie did the same with Ron and Ginny.
"Path's clear, guys," Charlie called.
"On three, then," said Fred. "One! Two! THREE!" Both boys started running at top speed down the slope of the roof. Hermione and Ginny screamed, certain they would fall – and indeed it seemed very likely. Ginny covered her mouth with her hands, and Ron made to go after them, but Charlie stopped him.
"They're going to fall!" Hermione shrieked, and reached out, even though she knew she didn't have a chance of reaching them before they were gone. Bill pulled her back.
"It's OK," he said, gently. "Look." Just as they reached the edge of the roof, both boys kicked with their feet, and flew into the air, they were still falling, but their brooms acted as a kind of magical parachute, so they ended up gliding gracefully down to the ground, landing in the big field a moment or two later. They cheered, whooped, and slapped each other high fives.
"What d'ya think?" Bill asked, grinning.
The three of them just blinked. "Obviously, it's not a game we play when Mum's about, but she's at Auntie Muriel's today, so we're OK. Do you like it?" Charlie asked.
"You're insane," said Hermione, shaking her head in disbelief.
"You really are," said Ron. "But can I have a go?"
After a little and a lot of persuasion respectively, Ginny and Hermione agreed to have a go. They watched Bill, then Charlie jump off the roof, and then Ron had a go. Ginny, sensing Hermione's nervousness, suggested that they go together for the first time. Standing on the highest apex of the roof of The Burrow, her left hand gripping a broom as tightly as she could, her right had clutching onto Ginny's left, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what she was letting herself in for. Where was her Gryffindor courage when she needed it? Where was her brain when she needed it? Why was she about to do this? "Ready?" Ginny asked, turning to her.
"No!" her brain screamed. "Yes," her mouth squeaked.
"One," began Ginny.
Her heart was racing a mile a minute. This was insane.
"TWO!" cried Ginny, all her brothers joining in the countdown, too.
Her hands were sweating so much, she was afraid they would simply slide off the broom. This was beyond insane.
"THREE!" cried everyone.
This was suicide.
She ran with Ginny, her one had gripping on to the broom for dear life, the other holding onto Ginny's like a lifeline, racing down the roof. She was going to die. She was. This was the stupidest thing ever. Both she and Ginny were screaming now, Ginny mostly out of exhilaration, Hermione mostly out of fear. Adrenalin coursed through her body. She wouldn't have been surprised if her life had started flashing before her eyes.
"KICK!" a voice screamed in her ear, and right at the last second she remembered to kick off, hard, from the roof. This was it. She was airborne. Beside her, Ginny was still shrieking, and so was she, she noticed almost absently. She was still capable of making a noise then, at least.
She was falling . . . flying . . . falling. She could hear her heart beating, but this time with something else. She started to relax a little more – perhaps she wouldn't die, after all. And then her hand began to slip from the broom . . . but it was OK, because Ginny was holding on to her tightly, and they were only six feet off the ground, and then her feet were slamming into the ground, and her legs buckled, and she fell over, and she pulled Ginny down with her, and they were both laughing and screaming, and whooping and it was OVER.
She sat up, finally letting go of Ginny's hand. She took a few deep breaths, but still kept laughing slightly hysterically. "Oh, my God!" she gasped, looking at her friend, who was still flat on her back, chest heaving as she gulped in air.
"Oh, my God," agreed Ginny, a huge, relieved grin on her face.
"We did it!" both girls squealed together, hugging each other and shrieking some more. "That was a million times scarier than the scariest rollercoaster!" said Hermione.
"What's a rollercoaster?" asked Ginny, perplexed.
"It's a muggle thing," said Hermione. "They strap you into this machine – it has seatbelts and harnesses and all sorts – then it takes you on a ride something like that, you know: a big steep drop. And sometimes they turn you upside down and stuff. But you're strapped in, so you can't fall out . . . and oh my God that was so much scarier!"
Both girls looked at each other. "Let's do it again!" they said, jumping to their feet and flying slowly and carefully back up to the roof. When it was their turn (because of the numbers of people verses the numbers of brooms – seven people, and five brooms that were safe enough to play the game with, they often had to wait, as Bill and Charlie insisted that a maximum of three people could go at once, with two spare brooms "just in case"), Hermione and Ginny first jumped together, then she jumped with Charlie, then she jumped with her own broom, and Fred and George either side of her, with their own brooms, ready to catch her if she fell (although they assured her that she wouldn't, and she didn't).
It was on her fourth go that things went very wrong for Hermione. She was jumping two to a broom with Ron, who was a lot taller than her, meaning that she didn't have a very good grip on the broom itself, which was unfortunate. It was also very unfortunate that just as they flew past Percy's bedroom window, he opened it into the broom, to complain about the noise. In surprise at seeing his head hanging out of the window, Hermione let go of Ron's hand, and her fingers slipped off the broom.
Then, she really was screaming in fear, because she was falling through air with nothing to support her. Ron crashed to the ground awkwardly, but he had the broom to break his fall. She had nothing. Bill and Percy performed some kind of hover charm on her, which stopped her falling . . . but it wasn't holding very well. Sooner or later, she was going to crash to the ground, and she was going to break many bones in her body and give herself a concussion and –
"Climb aboard," said Charlie, helping her slide on to the broom. He landed it and she slid off, her grip on his shirt so tight that he was pulled down on top of her, too. She was crying in fear, her shoulders shaking with sobs. "Hey, hey, it's OK," Charlie soothed, pulling her awkwardly around, so she was practically sitting on his lap. "It's alright, I've got you. You're safe," he continued, rubbing her back. "Everything's alright."
One by one, the other Weasley siblings appeared around her, all reassuring her, and Hermione calmed down and became aware that she was sitting on Charlie. She blushed and wriggled off his lap, thanking him for saving her. "It's no trouble," he said, flashing her a brilliant smile.
So, in the end, perhaps it wasn't so unfortunate that she had slipped off the broom. Because if she hadn't, she probably wouldn't have spent a very enjoyable summer crushing on Charlie, a fact that Ginny picked up on and teased her mercilessly about.
"Hermione! Hello! Hermione!" Charlie's voice snapped her out of her reverie.
"I . . . what?" she asked, somewhat startled. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," she apologised.
"I gathered that," Charlie said, with a good-natured grin. "I was saying, are you free on Friday?"
"Friday as in the one two days from now? The twenty sixth?" Hermione asked. Charlie nodded. "Mmm . . . yeah, I'm pretty sure. Nope, I'm not doing anything. Why?"
"We-ll," said Charlie, drawing out the word. "Mick – one of the guys from the reserve – is turning thirty on Friday. And he's having a party at the pub there. And he invited me along, and he said to bring someone, if I wanted. So, do you want to go?"
"To the pub?" Hermione asked, slightly stupidly.
"Yeah," Charlie answered.
"Mmm . . . OK," Hermione said, and Charlie smiled. "What sort of thing should I wear?"
"God, I don't know!" Charlie said. "I'm a bloke, I don't do clothes discussions. You'll need Ginny for that," he teased.
Hermione shook her head. "No, I just mean is it a sit down dinner, formal wear thing? Or—"
Charlie winked at her. "Oh, no. Something short and revealing'll probably be about right," he said, giving her a grin. Hermione could feel herself blushing again.
"Right . . . I . . . right, OK then," she stammered incoherently. Why did Charlie have that effect on her?
"So you'll definitely come then?" he asked her.
She nodded. "Yeah, I'll come," she said.
"Good," said Charlie, giving her another wink. "You can be my date." Hermione was sure that her face had begun to resemble a tomato. With sunburn. Extreme sunburn. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'd better get to bed – I've got to be at the reserve for half six tomorrow morning, 'cause we've got some Horntails being flown in. Goodnight!" he waved, and disappeared off into his room.
Hermione was left staring at the closed door, struggling to process what had just happened. He had said that she could be his date. (She was sure he had said that. She wasn't likely to have misheard – what else could it have been? "You can be my gate?" "You can be my Kate?" Hardly.) But what did that mean, exactly? Be his date? Was that a synonym for 'girlfriend'? Did it mean they were dating? Why did he keep winking at her? Why did she keep blushing? Why did she have so many questions? Where was Ginny when she needed her??
She sighed. This was getting her nowhere. Perhaps, for once in her life, she should be spontaneous. Just go with the flow, and see where it took her. After all, Charlie wasn't going to let anything bad happen to her. And she could always leave if she wanted to, it was no big deal. Yes, she would go with Charlie to the party. That only left her with the problem of what to wear. She flung open her wardrobe doors, and flipped through her clothes. She didn't really have anything suitable. Her wardrobe mainly consisted of work clothes – grey pencil skirts, smart black trousers, modest blouses, and pretty sweaters – and the stuff she wore at the weekends – jeans, old t-shirts, Weasley Christmas jumpers and the like. Behind these were the summer versions of her work and casual clothes. She had her dress that she had worn to the ball the other day, and some other clothes that she usually wore for parties and formal gatherings. She was able to pick out a silk silver blouse, and a pair of peep-toe heels that were the exact same shade, but she was at a loss as to what to wear on her legs. Her black velvet trousers, which she usually pulled out for occasions such as this, would look far too formal for the party.
Just when she was thinking of giving up, she found the perfect solution – the black sequinned skirt that Ginny had insisted she buy. She had never had a chance to wear it – indeed, the "Only 5 Galleons!" sale label was still attached, but it would look good with the blouse, and the hem landed just above the knee, so she didn't have to worry about having too much leg on display. Now, she just had to worry about what to do with her hair . . .
Hey, 'Mione! Doing anything nice this weekend? Or just the usual fifteen essays? (I'm joking, of course!) – Isabelle x
Well, it's funny you should mention that. I'm going out tonight, in fact – Hermione
Tonight? Ooh, who with?? Tell me everything, else I will fall into a coma from boredom – Professor Copweld is SO uninteresting! –yawn–
Well . . . Merlin, this is so odd, when you write it down! Basically, you know Ron, of course (trainee Auror, we dated until last weekend)? Well, his older brother, Charlie is staying with me, in my spare room for a month or so, 'cause he needs to be in England for his job for a little while (long story, don't ask). ANYWAY, one of Charlie's friends from work is 30 today, so he's having a party at a pub tonight, and Charlie invited me along, as his "date".
I love how you put the word 'date' in speech marks. I also love how you blushed when you wrote that. You fancy him.
I DID NOT BLUSH!! AND I DO NOT FANCY HIM!!
Um, you did so blush. I saw you. And . . . I think you do fancy him. If you didn't, you wouldn't protest so much.
Hey guys! Coralie here! What've you been talking about? God, I'm so bored, any minute now I'm going to – ooooh, Hermione's going on a date!
I know? Isn't it so cute? (And stop nicking the parchment. I have to learn all about him from Hermione, and I can't do that if you keep stealing the paper!)
Oh, for Merlin's sake, you two! I'm only going as a friend. I put the word 'date' in speech marks because he was obviously only kidding around when he said it. It would just be too weird for us to do anything else – who goes out with their ex-boyfriend's brother? (But he does have a nice arse.) ((Oh, my Goodness, I can't believe I just wrote that. You two are never going to let me live that down!))
Nope. We're not. –sticks out tongue– So you're only going as friends . . . but do you want it to be more than just that?
By the way, Hermione: it's not that rare for people to go out with their ex's siblings. My own mother did it – she dated my Uncle Jean, they split up and a couple of months later she started going out with my father. It was a bit weird at first, but once everyone got used to it, it was never really mentioned again. Sometimes you find the right man in a totally unexpected place.
Well, thanks Coralie. I guess it does happen sometimes – just not for me. Charlie and I are just friends, who flirt a bit. Most of the time he's in Romania anyway, so it's not like we could have a proper relationship. But I think that
Hermione looked up from the note she was writing, hearing a loud bang and several screams coming from down the corridor. Professor Copweld broke off his lecture and marched over to the door, muttering about how inconsiderate some people were, when others were trying to teach. He yanked the door open, still irritable. "What in the name of Merlin—" he began, before a jet of red light was sent towards him by a hooded figure. Several people in the classroom – Hermione included – screamed. Another jet of red light was sent towards him, and Hermione sent a shield charm towards the door. She was not the only person to do so, and the strength of all of them combined made the door shimmer in a hazy sort of way.
The deep, booming voice of Kingsely Shaklebolt, ex-Auror, and now Minister for Magic entered the classroom, and, Hermione supposed, the rest of the Ministry, magically amplified. "All Ministry personnel: the Ministry is under attack. I repeat, the Ministry is under attack. Please evacuate as quickly as possible – trained Aurors are handling the situation."
From the bangs, shots and screams that she could hear, the trained Aurors did not appear to be handling the situation well. Fear flooded through her: Harry and Ron – were they OK? What about Mr. Weasley? And her other friends – people whom she had known at Hogwarts; other members of the Law Enforcement department, who always said hello; the tiny man who sold coffee on the fifth floor, and always remembered that she had milk and no sugar; the kindly librarian, who always helped her search for the correct books, if she couldn't find them – were they alright? In her panic, she almost missed what Professor Copweld was saying.
" . . . nearest exits, and stay at your houses until further notice. I should imagine that the emergency broadcasts on the Wizard's Wireless Network will kick in soon – stay tuned to that for further information. Now, go!"
The students piled out of the classroom, and Hermione stuffed all her papers and books into her satchel, which she slung across her body. Wand in hand, her two French friends by her side, she was the last to leave the classroom. "Go on, go on!" cried her teacher. "Go quickly down the corridor – I'll create a distraction as you go!"
Grabbing her two friends by their arms, the three of them hurtled down the corridor, but they were not quick enough. Two figures jumped out at them, and Hermione shot jinxes and hexes at them. She was pretty sure one of them was down – if she could only get to the other one . . . Hermione and Coralie both shot stunning spells at him at the exact same time, and the second man fell. "COME ON!" she screamed, but Coralie was bent over Isabelle.
"She's bleeding!" she cried, and, when Hermione bent down, she saw that there was a very nasty looking gash on the other girls head, seeping blood, and leaving her struggling for consciousness.
"Get her other side," she commanded Coralie, and, between them they carried the girl over to a fireplace. Hermione lit the fire with her wand, and handed a box to Coralie, containing floo powder. "Take her to St. Mungo's – they'll be able to sort her out," she said.
"Where are you going?" called Coralie, as Hermione was already halfway down the corridor.
"I've got to see if my friends are OK!" Hermione yelled back.
"But—"
"Just take her and get out of here! I'll be fine!" she cried, rounding the corner and seeing her Professor battling two hooded figures. She shot a jinx at one of them, then ran off round a corner before they could get her. She ran straight into a large shape, landing on the floor with an, "Oof!"
"Hermione?" asked a voice. She looked up.
"Oh, Harry!" she cried, throwing her arms around her friend. "Thank goodness you're alright! What's going on? Is everyone OK? What's happening?"
He pulled her into an alcove. "Of course I'm OK, it's you I was worried about. Ron and I came straight up to find you, but he seems to have disappeared – I swear he was right behind me a minute ago," Harry looked behind him, worriedly.
"Come on, let's go and find him," said Hermione. Though she was no longer going out with Ron, they were still friends (apart from minor arguments . . .) and she didn't want anything to happen to him. "By the way, what the hell is going on?" she asked, as they jogged down the corridor, keeping their eyes peeled for any rouge attackers.
"I have absolutely no bloody clue," replied Harry. "We were in the middle of a lecture when some bloke ran in, yelled out that there was an attack on the Ministry, and that we all had to work to defend it. Quadgford – our professor – split us up into groups, but then the . . . people, whoever they are, attacked our room, so he never got to finish his plan, but the basic gist of it was don't let the bastards get the Ministry, and protect the weak and helpless."
"I certainly hope that you don't count me in the category of weak and helpless!" said Hermione indignantly.
"Oh . . . er . . . no, of course not!" said Harry, unconvincingly, as Hermione glared at him. "Well, I certainly don't, but Ron might've, of course—"
"OI!" said a voice, and Ron's distinctive red hair appeared from round another corner. "You rescued her, then?" he asked Harry.
"I don't need rescuing!" said Hermione, still indignant.
"Never suggested that you did," Ron said affably. "Come on, we've got to find my Dad," he added, in a more serious tone, pressing a button on the magical lift. The doors opened, and he and Harry stepped inside.
"Wait!" cried Hermione, yanking them both out again. They stared at her confusedly. "I don't think it's a good idea, going into a lift when there are dangerous people on the loose. It's like in the muggle world – you're not supposed to get into a lift during a fire."
"We'll take the stairs, then," said Harry, speeding off in the direction of them, but Ron looked distressed.
"Dad's office is probably at least a mile in that direction, once you take into account all the stairs and things," he said. "It'll take us ages to get there!"
"You got a better idea?" Harry said.
"Apparate," said Ron. Harry gave him a why-didn't-I-think-of-that look, but Hermione shook her head.
"You can't apparate inside the Ministry building, it's like Hogwarts; there's too many wards and stuff up," she said.
"How'd you know that?" Ron asked.
"I read it somewhere," Hermione panted, as they started to jog down yet another corridor.
"Let me guess," said Ron, "The Ministry: a History."
"I don't think that book exists," said Hermione, hoping to keep Ron in his light-hearted mood, to stop him from worrying too much about his Dad.
"Well, you can be the first to write it, once we get out of this mess, it'll—ow! Harry! What'cha do that for?" he yelped.
Harry had pulled them into an alcove, where a brightly lit fire was roaring away merrily. "We'll floo your Dad's office; it'll be much quicker," he said.
"You're a genius!" cried Ron.
"I try," said Harry modestly, as the three of them floo'd Arthur Weasley's office. Hermione was the last to step out of the fireplace, and she surveyed the room as she did so. The desk chair was knocked over, and a pile of what had once been, presumably, neatly stacked papers were scattered all over the floor.
"There's been a struggle," Ron said, his face white.
"Or your Dad just got up to quickly and had a bit of a clumsy moment," said Hermione, calmly. "Let's not count our chickens before they've hatched."
"You what?" asked Ron, as the three of them made for the door.
"Muggle saying, doesn't matter," said Hermione. Harry opened the door, and the three of them were presented with the sight of Mr. Weasley, Percy, and Percy's girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, battling at least six masked figures. "Just like old times," Hermione muttered, as the three of them dived into the fray.
She helped Penelope bring down one of the fighters, and together they put a full body-bind on him and Hermione added extra anti-apparation wards to him (or her; there was no way of telling) so he couldn't get away. Meanwhile, Percy and Ron had brought down a second; Mr. Weasley a third; and Harry a fourth. Hermione busied herself binding and securing them, as they were brought down, and not long after, all six attackers had been caught. She leaned against a wall, breathing heavily, and surveyed the others.
Mr. Weasley had his hands on his knees, evidently trying to get his breath back, and Ron had a slight gash on his cheek, but other than that they seemed to be alright. "What's going on?" panted Mr. Weasley. "I heard Kingsely's announcement, but who's attacking? What's happening?"
"Haven't the foggiest," said Ron, accepting a cloth off Penelope to press against his wound with a grateful smile. "Harry and I were hoping that one of you guys would be able to tell us?"
"I've got no idea," said Hermione. "Like you said," she indicated Mr. Weasley, "we heard the announcements in our classroom, and Professor Copweld told us to get out, basically. I helped a friend get another friend off to St. Mungo's 'cause she got hit by a curse, then I bumped into Harry."
"Penny and I were just filing some stuff when we heard the announcement," supplied Percy. "We didn't know what was happening, but we came to find Dad, to make sure he was OK. We were all just about to go and find you guys when we were attacked by that lot." He indicated the people on the floor.
Harry started towards them. "Well, there's one way of finding out who they are," he said, making to lift off the masks of one of the figures.
"HEY!" shrieked Penelope, pointing. "Up there!" she shot a curse at a hooded figure, a floor above them, hiding behind the stair banisters. He shot a curse at Mr. Weasley, but Harry pulled him out of the way, and Hermione shielded the pair of them with a charm. Ron attempted to jinx him, but he missed, and the figure shot a jet of bright yellow light towards Penelope. Seeing what was happening, Percy threw himself in front of her, and the jet hit him. He hit the ground with a horrible thud, not moving.
"NO!" cried Penelope and Ron at the same time. They both dropped to their knees beside him, frantic, as the hooded figure ran off. Mr. Weasley raced over to his son, shaking and calling to him. He pressed his fingers to his neck.
"He has a pulse, and he's still breathing," he said grimly, "but his pulse is very faint, and his breaths are too far apart. We have to get him to St. Mungo's." Hurriedly, Hermione conjured up a stretcher, and Harry and Ron helped slide Percy's body onto it.
Penelope stood beside it as it hovered magically, clutching on to one of his hands. "It's all my fault," she sobbed. "It was meant for me, he shouldn't have—"
"There, there," said Mr. Weasley awkwardly, putting an arm around the distraught girl. "It's not your fault at all, Percy'll be fine," he soothed, but it had little effect. He looked around helplessly.
Hermione took charge. "Harry, help Mr. Weasley get Percy to the hospital," she instructed. Penelope was slightly hysterical, and Ron was pale and fairly unresponsive. "Look after Ron, too. I'll go and tell everyone, get them to meet you at the hospital, alright?" she addressed Mr. Weasley.
"Yes, right, fine," he muttered distractedly, already jogging down the corridor in search of the nearest floo. Penelope, understanding what was going on, took her wand out and ran in front, determined not to let anything else happen to her boyfriend. Harry followed her lead, and Ron fell into step beside his father. Hermione ran back into Mr. Weasley's office, and floo'd The Burrow. She pulled herself out of the fireplace, and the first thing she saw was the magical clock. Percy's hand was pointing to "Mortal Peril"; Ron's, Harry's and Arthur's to "Hospital". At least they had made it there. Molly's was at "Home", so, she reasoned, she had no idea what was going on yet.
"Hello?" she called, into the empty kitchen. "It's Hermione – is anyone home?"
"Hello, dear," she heard Molly's friendly voice call back. "Come in, we're in the dining room!" She raced in, and stopped short when she saw Ginny sitting next to her mother, both of them wearing big smiles, which disappeared immediately when they saw Hermione's state.
"What happened to you?" gasped Ginny. Hermione caught a reflection of herself in the mirror. Her hair was frizzing wildly out of it's ponytail, her one blouse sleeve was ripped slightly and her other sleeve was covered in Isabelle's blood. She looked terrible.
"I'm fine," she said, dismissing their worries with a wave of the hand. "Listen, there's been an attack at the Ministry. No one knows what's going on, or who the attackers are or anything. We were fighting, a group of us . . . and Percy got hit by a curse – I don't know what it was. He's unconscious and . . . well, not in a very good shape," she gabbled. She had thought it would be better to tell them quickly, but she wasn't doing a very good job of explaining things. "The others are taking him to St. Mungo's – everyone else is fine, it's just . . ." She trailed off. Tears were pooling in Ginny's eyes, and she blinked, making them slide down her face.
Her mother put an arm around her. She was pale, and her mouth was thin, but she was strong. She wasn't going to break down – she would be there for her family when they needed her. "Right," she said. "Thank you for coming and telling us, Hermione. Are you sure you're OK?" Hermione nodded. "Good. I'll just go and put a few things in a bag for Percy, and then we'll head off for the hospital."
She hurried from the room. Ginny gave a sob and buried her face in her hands. "Hey, Gin," Hermione said, going to sit beside her friend and giving her a hug. "It's alright. Everything's going to be fine. You'll see, Percy'll pull through," she murmered.
"How do you know th-that, when you d-don't even kn-know what curse hit him?" Ginny sobbed.
"Because I just know it," Hermione said. "He will be fine, OK? There's no doubt about it. Everything's going to be alright."
"You d-don't know that," said Ginny, still crying.
Hermione had no answer. No, she didn't know that he would be alright. She could hope, but she couldn't know anything for definite. In the end, she just hugged her friend until Molly came back into the kitchen, her eyes red but her demeanour fairly calm. Ginny took a deep breath and stopped crying. "We'll head off to St. Mungo's then," said Molly, taking her daughter's hand.
"Of course," said Hermione. "I'll let the others know, and join you there later?"
"Yes, of course," replied Molly.
"Oh, Hermione?" asked Ginny, as they were about to step into the fireplace.
"Yes?"
"Could you possibly send off an owl to the Quidditch people?" she asked. "I was supposed to be back there by six, but—"
"That's fine, I'll send one off right away," said Hermione. Ginny gave her a brief smile of thanks, and then floo'd the hospital.
She went to Shell Cottage next, and then to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and both of those meetings went better than she had thought. Bill was understandably upset, but Fleur was there for him, and she took charge. From their house, she floo'd George's flat, and came down to the shop just as he was closing up. Katie was there, and she promised George that she would tidy the shop and deposit the day's takings in Gringotts, and she told Hermione that she would get a message to Angelina to pass on about Ginny's family crisis.
All that was left was to tell Charlie. She apparated to his reserve, where she was met by a friendly witch at the reception desk. "Hello dear, how can I help you?" the woman asked, smiling. Her smile faded slightly when she saw Hermione's attire, and she began to look rather alarmed.
"Charlie!" Hermione cried. "I have to talk to Charlie!"
"Charlie?" repeated the woman, bemused.
"Charlie Weasley – do you know him?" Hermione asked, still frantic.
"Oh, of course, I know Charlie," said the woman. "You need to contact him, you say?" Hermione nodded vigorously. "Now, let me see . . . how can I contact him best?"
"Please hurry, it's an emergency!" begged Hermione.
"An emergency?" repeated the woman.
"Yes – his brother's been badly hurt, and—"
"Barbara, darling!" cried a voice, and a bunch of about five rowdy young men entered the building, having evidently just finished their day's work. "How are you this fine evening?" Barbara – who was in her sixties, by the look of her silvery hair – swatted them away.
"Not now, Ben. Have any of you seen Charlie? This young lady is looking for him; there's a bit of an emergency," she smiled apologetically at Hermione.
"Nope, but I could help you out, if you're having any trouble," another man said, with a leering grin in Hermione's direction. She glared back at him.
"That's enough," said a deep voice, and to Hermione's intense relief, Charlie appeared. "What's going on?"
"Oh, Charlie!" cried Hermione, running over to him and flinging her arms around him.
"Hey, hey! It's OK! What's going on?" he asked, leaning down and brushing a strand of hair out of Hermione's face.
"There was an attack at the Ministry today," Hermione said, looking up at Charlie. "No one really knows what's going on – but Percy . . . Percy was injured. He's in St. Mungo's now, and—"
"Hold on tight," Charlie said, cutting across her. She squeezed her arms tighter around his shoulders and felt the familiar sensation of apparition. When they arrived at St. Mungo's they were quickly directed to one of the wards, and rushed off. All the other Weasleys were in a waiting room off the ward that Percy was in, tense and anxious. Mr. Weasley filled them in when they got there – apparently the Healers were very concerned, as the spell was unknown to them, so they didn't know what effects it was going to have on Percy. They had worked quickly to stabilise him, and all they could do now was wait. They didn't know when (he refused to say 'if') he would wake up, and they didn't know what kind of state he would be in when he did.
Charlie took a seat, next to George near the door, and Hermione turned to go, thinking it would be "family only", but Charlie tugged her down next to him. "Don't go," he said, holding tightly onto her hand. So she stayed, fingers entwined in his, his head resting on her shoulder, and she waited.
The Weasleys just couldn't lose another son . . .
If you're confused, don't worry – it'll all be explained in the next chapter. Sorry (again!!) for the wait – I was going mad because of having to wait for my GCSE results, but I got them today, and I did better than I dared hope, so I was able to concentrate on this in the end :D :D :D Thanks again for all the reviews :D x