There's much more than meets the eye to this mysterious Jessica. I hope this chapter makes all of you who thought Charlie was a creeper feel better! I call this chapter "A Collective Sigh of Relief" because I'm hoping that's what my readers feel when they read it!

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Charlie and Jessica walked hand-in-hand from the kitchen door to the orchard. Charlie had both of their brooms (2013 model DragonWings) over his shoulder and Jessica had a large navy blue and white quilt tucked under her arm. Charlie was taking long, slow breaths as they walked, letting his lungs expand to their fullest with the crisp country air. Jessica's head was on a swivel, looking around at the blue sky unobstructed by the dirty buildings and smog that she'd become accustomed to living in Bucharest.

In truth, she never expected to return to Britain. Nothing she experienced in her formative years left her with any real attachment to the place, it was just a country; the place of her birth, nothing more. She never had a head for schooling. Truly, the group home where she'd been raised was too loud to concentrate on anything as unimportant as schoolwork. She was no different from any of the other orphans of the First Wizarding War, except she had no idea that's who or what she was. She wasn't allowed any outside visitors or mail but since she had no living relations whatsoever, it never occurred to her to mind.

The day a tall foreboding man stomped through the front door was one she couldn't erase from her mind. She was skipping rope by herself in a part of the yard the other children called "Weirdo World" simply because it was where Jessica chose to play. None of them bothered with her much, but they definitely stayed out of her way. When she had been picked on in the past, she got a look in her eye that scared the other children.

The man in the tall boots and fur cloak had shoulder length gray hair that curled at the end. His face was obscured by a thick salt and pepper beard. Jessica locked her stare on his steely gray eyes almost immediately. He was addressing one of the sisters who was in charge of the home and she looked distressed, the usually unflappable nun was waving her hands dramatically. Jessica inched closer to try to overhear the conversation but the man snapped his head in her direction and subtly held his hand up to her as if to say, "Come no closer." She obeyed.

She didn't realize how tightly she was gripping the handles of her skipping rope until she winced and saw she had clenched up on them so hard that her fingernail had dug into the flesh of her palm and made her bleed. She dropped the handle and raised her hand to her mouth. Her eyes wandered back to the strange man arguing with Sister Elizabeth when he pulled a stick out of his pocket and pointed it at her. She watched him mouth a word she couldn't make out and felt a minor jolt to her hand. When she looked down, the blood was gone and there was no sign of the puncture wound from her nail.

The man was smiling at her, a smile that she returned, though she couldn't say why.

He gestured directly to her and she dropped her skipping rope on the ground and walked up to him. He was physically intimidating, but the closer she got to him, the more comfortable she felt near him. When she got close enough to hear his voice, he knelt in front of her ignoring the nun standing next to him who was still flailing her arms excitedly.

"Jessie-kah," his accent was very strange to her. "I em your onckle, Dmitry. Your father vos my youngest brazher. Un-teel a month ago, I believed you ver dead, just like your parents. I received your letter from Durmstrang – zey thot you vere leeving with me after ze war. I am very sorry, child. Eef I knew you were alive, I vud heff come before."

Her head was spinning. An uncle? She was very young when her parents died but no one ever mentioned her father having a brother. And his accent was so strange - where was he from? What the hell was 'Durmstrang'? All those other thoughts were drowned out by a sudden rushing realization – this man was there to take her away.

"Uncle…Dmitry?" She said quietly.

"Ja. You look yust like Anna, your beautiful mahzer." He said, affectionately running his fingers through her platinum hair. Jessica raised her fingertips to touch her uncle's hand. Her hand slipped into his so easily, so naturally. It wasn't until that moment that she realized Dmitry's resemblance to her father. She had three pictures of her parents tucked under her pillow. In all of them, her father was always clean-shaven and his hair was cut short, but once she looked past his beard, she saw her father; his high forehead, mischievous grin, round cheeks and perfect teeth. The tears welled up in her eyes. Family. She had a family.

"I simply will not allow you to take this child without documentation…" Sister Elizabeth's voice cut through Jessica's brain.

"Enough!" Uncle Dmitry waved his hand. "Thees girl eez my flesh and blood. Een thees moment, I em taking her home vit me." He gently took Jessica up in his arms as easily as if he were lifting a pillow. Sister Elizabeth was about to protest again when he pointed the stick at her and whispered a word. Her face came over cloudy and she smiled a vacant smile.

"Well, I see everything is in order. Jessica, we will miss you, my dear." Sister Elizabeth said in a faraway voice. "Shall I help you pack her things, Mr. Antonescu?"

"Sank you, Seester, but zat vil not be necessary." He responded, politely.

He carried Jessica in his arms to his waiting car and gently plunked her down in the back seat. To her surprise, her clothes and what little else she owned was already in the back seat of the car, including her stuffed bear, Petya. She grabbed Petya in her arms and nuzzled her nose. Uncle Dmitry slid in next to her and signaled to the driver – a man Jessica had not even noticed until then – that they were ready to leave.

"I gave her to you ven you were leetle." Uncle Dmitry said, pointing to Petya and smiling. "Eet pleases me zet you steel heff her."

The car pulled away from the only home Jessica ever had and she couldn't have been happier.

"Uncle, may I ask you a question?" She said meekly. He smiled her father's smile again.

"Off course."

"Well, I have so many questions but…what is 'Durmstrang'?" She asked.

There wasn't an explanation in the entire universe that could have surprised her more. She was completely flummoxed by the notion that not only are there witches and wizards roaming around the world, but she was one of them – her parents, too. Uncle Dmitry kept talking and her mind continued racing. He told her about an evil wizard with a funny sounding name who had come to power and about the war to stop him. He sorrowfully confessed that he had been duped by supporters of this evil wizard and it caused the rift between himself and his beloved youngest brother. He wiped tears from his eyes telling his niece about their final encounter. He told her if he knew it would be the last time he'd speak to his brother and his brother's wife, it would have gone very differently.

The rest of the story came out gradually. Her parents were killed by followers of the dark wizard and it was their murders that made her uncle understand that his loyalties had been misplaced.

By that time, the sun had gone down. She looked away from her uncle's careworn face and looked out the window. To her astonishment, they weren't on the motorway. Indeed, they weren't on any kind of surface at all! The car was flying through the air like a miniature airplane! She jumped at the sight and it made her Uncle laugh.

"My dear, you deed not think we ver go-ink to drive to Bucharest, deed you?"

Jessica flared the quilt out in front of her in the shade of a tree and flipped onto her back. Charlie rested his broom against the tree, pulled his shirt over his head and lay down next to her.

"Thanks for taking me here, Charlie." She said contentedly with her hands behind her head.

"I'm glad you wanted to come." He said, sneaking his arm behind her head.

"Well, you're very convincing." She teased him.

"Mum and Dad like you a lot, I can tell." He said.

"And I like your family. They're so…normal." She replied.

Charlie guffawed, "I don't know about all that, Jess."

She leaned up on her elbow and faced him, his Celtic W tattoo stared at her from his bicep. "So tell me, why did you tell me to do this to my hair?" She pointed up at the mop of brown curls on her head.

"Well, it's a long story, really. The short version is I knew it would get a rise out of my brother, Ron. Blokes are always staring at his wife and making passes at her. I thought it would be funny if I showed up with someone who so closely resembled her." He laughed again.

"But, that's horrible! He must think you want to shag his wife!" She popped onto her knees and pulled her wand out of her pocket. Closing her eyes, she concentrated and suddenly her long silky platinum blonde hair was back, along with her gray-blue eyes. With those two parts of her appearance fully restored, she couldn't have looked less like Hermione.

"That's how it goes with my brothers, Jess. We're always taking the piss out of each other. I should tell you about some of the things George and Fred used to do. George has kept up with his practical jokes, but I tell you, they were an unstoppable team, those two."

"You're awful." She gave his shoulder a good-natured push and laughed. "No one is going to recognize me when they see me again."

"Well, Fleur has hair about your color, fancy looking like her for a little while?" He teased. She jumped up on her feet.

"Charlie," Her voice took on an admonishing tone. "Don't you think I'm pretty the way I am?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him angrily.

He got up on his knees before he spoke again. "No. No, I don't."

She turned her back and took a step away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. She felt him stand behind her and she struggled against him when he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"I think you're beautiful." He whispered.

A smile crept across her face and Charlie nuzzled into her hair. For someone who professed to not want any kind of formal commitment, he sure spoke and acted like a man who was in love. Jessica turned around and put her hands on Charlie's face, pulling him in for a long kiss.

"I thought we were just having fun together? No commitments?" She said.

"Of course, love. We both know what this is. But, it's still fun isn't it?" He kissed her.

She didn't reply. She playfully bit his lip and escaped his grip. She bounded in three leaps over to her broom and hopped on it. Before he could catch her, she was soaring high above him."

"No, love. This is fun!" She called down to him. He mounted his broom and raced up to her.

"Aw, come on, Weasley – you couldn't catch a baby Ridgeback flying like that!" She teased him. She hollered out a dragon mating call, (her specialty at work) and enticed Charlie to catch her.

From the kitchen window, Mrs. Weasley watched Charlie and Jessica zooming back and forth across the orchard. He chased her, she chased him. She smiled to herself while she did the last of the breakfast dishes.

"Molly, love? What are you looking at?" Arthur called to her. She turned towards his voice and wiped her hands on a tea towel before responding to him.

"Nothing, dear. Nothing at all."