Charlie Weasley prided himself on being more observant than the average man. His quidditch training as a seeker, and his natural attention to detail allowed him to pick up on things others usually missed. But at the moment, he was sure there was a detail that had been missed, yet he seemed to be the only one noticing anything.
It was early morning at the Burrow, the week of Christmas. The first holiday season after the war was already off to a horrible start, and things seemed to be headed futher downhill. Charlie regretted flying in from Romania early almost as soon as he arrived, but he wasn't immune to his mother's obvious need for her children to be under her roof for the holidays. Everyone was dreading Christmas as it was, but misery needed company so they all were stuck feeling their grief together. Each of the Weasleys was dealing with the post-traumatic stress and grief on their own terms, and trying valiantly to put on a good face for Mrs. Weasley.
George, who had been hanging on to sobriety by a thread as was, had been fairly sloshed since the Christmas decorations went up. He couldn't bear to sleep in his old room, so he'd been sleeping on the couch downstairs. Every once in a while, the old George would shine through and he'd bark out something like a laugh, but those days were few and far between.
Bill and Fleur had also answered Mum's summons, but Bill had been irritable and moody with the oncoming full moon, so they kept to themselves more than usual. In a similar vein, Percy was home at the Burrow for the holidays, but apparently hadn't been doing much to mend the poor reception his presence seemed to garner whenever he walked into a room.
Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione attempted to liven up the atmosphere where they could. Harry and Ginny were still fumbling around the early stages of their relationship, which vacillated between embarrassing and disgusting to witness. Luna Lovegood, their friend from Hogwarts, had also breezed in that week, settling into the attic with the ghoul without being prompted. Apparently the old family ghoul was a poor conversationalist, but could be persuaded to make something resembling music if Luna played the ocarina to accompany him.
Charlie had thought that his brother Ron would be attached to Hermione still, but he was surprised to see the two had a cool distance between them now. They were friendly, but that tension evident between them at Bill's wedding seemed to have dissipated. Neither Harry or Ron seemed to be paying much mind to Hermione, and Charlie found himself the sole witness to the mental breakdown in progress. Hermione seemed to be transfixed by the new kettle Molly had just pulled out of storage and put on the stove, her eyes glassy and lower lip trembling.
Charlie watched as Hermione pushed away from the table and declared she was going to get some air, which was ignored by the room at large. George was mixing firewhisky into his orange juice under the disapproving eye of Arthur. Percy was talking to no one in particular about a new law up for consideration at work. Bill was holding his head and complaining of a headache while Fleur patted his shoulder and fussed over him. Harry and Ron were having a falsely cheery conversation about quidditch that was entirely too loud. Ginny and Luna had their heads together over the Daily Prophet. And Molly was letting out watery sighs in between kitchen tasks that would undoubtedly erupt into fresh tears any moment.
Charlie slipped out of the kitchen without anyone noticing, grabbing a throw blanket as he went. He padded across the yard and silently dogged Hermione's tracks to the orchard. She didn't notice as he silently approached. Hermione was sobbing loudly, making a poor attempt to muffle her grief with the sleeve of her jumper.
"Hermione?" Charlie asked. He winced as she jumped in surprise and began scrubbing at her face.
"Charlie." She replied, avoiding his gaze and putting on a false smile that she could barely keep from sliding off her face.
"Here, it's freezing." Charlie said, unfurling the throw blanket and offering it to her. Hermione took it gratefully, wrapping it around her shoulders and wiping her eyes.
"It was the kettle, wasn't it, that set you off?" Charlie asked gently. Hermione's lip trembled again.
"Oh, you're going to think I'm stupid." She admitted. "It's the dumbest thing."
"Tell me." Charlie asked. He pulled a package of cigarettes out of his pocket and put one in his mouth. Hermione gaped at him in surprise.
"Don't tell Mum." He said, lighting the cigarette with a wave of his hand. The smoke trailed up into the sky, disappearing into the grey, weak, light.
They stood in the orchard for a few minutes, Charlie smoking silently and Hermione worrying her lip.
"It's my mum's kettle. I forgot I put it in the pantry for storage. When George drunkenly disappeared the old one, Mrs. Weasley replaced it with that one. Seeing it was... a shock."
"Oh." Charlie replied. He didn't know anything about Hermione, really, just that she was a brilliant witch. He had no idea what had happened to her parents with the war, only that they didn't come up in conversation.
"You must miss them." He said, figuring that was a true enough blanket statement.
Hermione hiccuped, and tears began spilling down her face again. Charlie mentally kicked himself, then toed out his cigarette and moved to comfort her. He reached out his hands to settle on her arms, then hovered there, waiting, as he noticed Hermione flinch away from the contact at first. Gods, that was right. Bill had told him that she'd endured something horrible and bloody during the war. Of course she was hesitant to be touched out of the blue by a man she didn't really know.
To his surprise, Hermione leaned into his hands, then moved past them to press her face into his chest.
"This okay?" He murmured, ghosting his hands over the back of her head and shoulders. Hermione nodded, and he pulled her into him. She cried into his jumper, her frail shoulders shaking under his hands. Merlin's beard, had no one hugged this witch recently?
"Let it all out, that's it." He rumbled to her, using the hand on the back of her head to smooth away some hair that had escaped to tickle his nose.
Finally, Hermione seemed to pull herself together, and he relaxed his grip on her so that she could pull away. She shivered in the morning cold, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
"I wish I could say that it wasn't fair. But I know I really have no room to talk about what is fair." Hermione said, her damp face downcast.
Charlie was saved a reply by Ron's sudden appearance at the head of the orchard.
"Oi, Mum sent me to see where you'd gotten off to." Ron said, walking over to them. He looked at Charlie. "Smoking again?"
Charlie rolled his eyes and pulled another cigarette out of his pocket to give to Ron as a bribe. Not that ickle Ronniekins seemed like he'd go off and tell their mother something that would inevitably upset her. They weren't kids anymore.
"All right there, Hermione?" Ron asked, lighting up the cigarette. Hermione nodded, watching Ron in surprise as he tapped out the ash delicately and inhaled deeply.
"I never knew you smoked, Ronald." She said in a small voice.
"Charlie used to bribe me with my own smokes so I wouldn't tell Mum." Ron said. "Nasty habit." He frowned at the cigarette, then dropped it on the ground and put it out.
"Freezing out here. Come inside for breakfast." Ron tossed over his shoulder, waving at them and heading back to the Burrow.
"Friends with him for years, and he never told you he smoked like a chimneystack over the summers?" Charlie asked. Hermione shrugged. Charlie realized maybe he had misstepped. The expression on Hermione's face was sad as she watched Ronald leave them.
"You two no longer an item?" Charlie asked, keeping his voice low. Hermione shook her head sharply, then without a word started back up toward the house. Charlie followed at a reasonable distance, noticing how Hermione's shoulders were slumped and she had folded in on herself more with grief. This holiday was shaping up to be absolutely horrendous.
Breakfast was a falsely cheerful affair, with everyone giving the impression that if they stopped talking, gloom and doom would descend. Mrs. Weasley bustled around, tipping food onto everyone's plates, trying to stay busy. Mr. Weasley was asking Harry all sorts of questions about Muggle engineering, since he'd just returned last night from a call rescuing an old befuddled wizard from an elevator he'd accidentally cursed in London. Luna was telling Percy and Ron about a particularly vivid dream she'd had last night. George was running a buzz already, and swaying in his chair slightly.
Errol toppled into the window around when everyone was taking third helpings, and Mrs. Weasley fished him out of the sink. He had a stack of correspondence, which she passed out to everyone. There were ministry correspondences for Mr. Weasley and Percy, and letters for Harry and Hermione.
Hermione tore into her letter as soon as she saw who it was from.
"Is that from the Australian ministry?" Ginny asked her. She nodded breathlessly, scanning the contents of the letter. She read it once, twice, and then her eyes filled with tears. Conversation immediately ceased as Hermione broke down into noisy sobs.
Charlie looked around the table. Ron, Harry, and Ginny looked like they wanted to disappear into the floor. Mr. Weasley was finding something very interesting to look at over by the mantel. Everyone else looked confused, or in Luna's case, slightly wistful. George hiccuped, but managed to keep his face serious.
"It says here that my petition to restore my parent's memories has been denied, owing to their new status as expectant parents." Hermione said, her lip continuing to tremble. She started gasping for breath, and looked like she might faint.
"C'mon, let's get you to bed. I'll bring up some tea later." Ginny said, pulling the letter out of Hermione's hand and dragging her friend to her feet. Mrs. Weasley bustled after them, mostly to make sure Hermione's knees didn't give out on the way up to the room the girls were sharing.
Charlie watched them go, then looked around the kitchen. Harry had his hand over his eyes, and Ron looked like he might be sick. George was drinking straight from the firewhisky bottle.
"I've missed something." Charlie said to the room.
"Moi aussi." Fleur said.
"I feel like a colossal git." Harry said, rubbing his scar absently. "I hadn't thought to ask her about her parents."
"You mean... They're still..." Ron said.
"Poor folks." Mr. Weasley said, looking down at his plate. "Nice as they come, they were."
Mrs. Weasley clattered back into the kitchen, her face white as a sheet.
"What happened to them?" Charlie asked.
"Memory charm." Percy answered, surprisingly. "She obliviated them and substituted false memories of them living their lives in Australia. We didn't catch her at it because the ministry had other problems at the time."
"Percy, you mean...?" Mrs Weasley gasped.
"Don't worry, the inquiry was dismissed due to outstanding factors, and the Grangers were put on an observation list by the Australian Ministry." Percy finished, looking uncomfortable. "I knew she was petitioning to have their memories restored, but the magic she used on them was quite complex, so they weren't even sure it was possible. Now, with the petition denied, there isn't much she can do."
"Expectant parents? What does zees mean een ze English?" Fleur asked.
"It means they're having a baby." Harry said dully. "And Hermione has to watch from afar, knowing she's the reason they can't be a family all together again."
Mrs. Weasley gave a loud wail and began throwing pots into the sink to wash feverishly. The clock on the mantel chimed the hour, echoing solemnly through the household.
"Merciful Merlin." Mr. Weasley said, running a hand over his face. It was going to be a long holiday.
