Hermione had never really been a fan of heroines who brooded, it had always felt too much like defeat. Though it was perhaps second only to her dislike of the great misunderstanding, that awful trope where the heroine and her would-be lover dramatically fell out over one or the other's refusal to just explain themselves.
It was therefore especially vexing when she found herself watching the rain hitting her windows and her thoughts drifted to a fight she'd had with her (now ex) boyfriend that morning.
As usual, it was something entirely ridiculous and completely not worth arguing about. He had been snooping and found a letter that Ron had written her during their short-lived romance after the Battle of Hogwarts. She hadn't kept it because she harboured anything more than very platonic feelings for him, but just because it had felt somehow callous to throw it away. He had spoken at length about how much her love and support meant to him, and about how glad he was to have her in his life, because really who else would ever understand all they had been through. It was as true now as it had been then. Ron was still one of her best friends, and what she, Ron and Harry had been through had bound them together in ways she couldn't even begin to explain.
That had of course not even occurred to her completely idiotic ex, he'd got as far as the very mushy opening paragraph and the clumsy suggestion that teenage Ron was looking forward to kissing her the next time he saw her, and had seen red.
He had leapt to the completely ludicrous conclusion the letter was recent, and that she was having an affair. She should have just corrected him there and then, told him to read the rest of the letter where Ron talked about Harry hinting about asking Ginny to marry him. But she hadn't, even as she watched his face turn bright red it had felt like she wasn't really there, his voice had sounded distant and she found that she simply didn't care.
She didn't care if he believed her, didn't care that he had said they were over, didn't even stir as she watched him pack what few belongings had made their way into her home and only really came to when she heard the door slam as he left. She honestly had no idea what she had said, had she said anything? She certainly hoped she'd told him where to stick his ludicrously large chocolate frog card collection. No, that wasn't a euphemism.
Which brought her to the present. She wasn't gazing forlornly out of the window because she was particularly sad, though she could see how you might make that mistake, but rather because she just felt completely empty. She felt like a deflated balloon, the foil ones that you had to get filled with helium at the card shop, the kind that slowly crinkled as they edged closer to the floor, before giving up the ghost entirely. She was exhausted, defeated and suddenly felt very alone.
Logically she knew it was silly, she wasn't alone, not really. She still saw the boys most weeks, with or without their respective wives and children. She had a fortnightly lady's night with Ginny, Luna, Hannah (Ron's utterly wonderful wife) and a little unexpectedly, Angelina. She was part of a book club (mostly ex Ravenclaws in her year at school, and a few from the year above) and she got along well with her colleagues.
She even attended the monthly Weasley supper (you'll always be one of us you know) Molly had told her tearfully when she'd quietly told her she'd give it a miss when she and Ron had called things off. Despite how awkward it had been for the first couple of months after; she hadn't been able to disappoint the Weasley matriarch.
She'd been put next to Arthur from then on, and he'd continued to bombard her with questions about Muggles ever since. She was sure he'd run out of topics eventually, but every answer she gave seemed to spark five more.
She'd never found it in herself to tell him, but she secretly loved it. She hadn't really spent much time in the Muggle world since before the war. It was comforting to talk about the world she had been born into and raised in until she was eleven, it brought it to life again. Sometimes it didn't feel real, like it was a strange dream. Other times, often when she caught herself missing her parents, it felt so vivid and close she wanted to scream. Even after all this time, when she had spent longer in the wizarding world than out of it, she sometimes felt like she was still standing teetering on the brink between the two.
She'd been back a handful of times since, and she still received a newspaper to a PO Box at the post office in the little town she lived in once a week, so she could keep up to date with the big headlines. It wasn't the same though, it wasn't her world anymore; it had and was continuing to move on without her. She still remembered picking up her new bank card and reading the letter informing her they'd gone 'contactless' with bemusement.
She shook herself and told herself to pull it together.
It was only when she went into the bathroom to splash her face with cold water, she realised she was crying. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable but familiar twist of her stomach as she furiously dashed her tears away with the sleeves of her jumper.
Two weeks later
The previous two weeks had passed in a bit of a blur. She's skipped lady's night and book club in favour of working late, deciding the best way to get past this malaise was to push through. She was choosing to ignore the fact that she did not feel remotely better, and despite the long hours, she was getting precisely nowhere with her project.
She glanced up at the clock and realised with a start that she was late to the Weasley's. Muttering a few choice curses (the non-deadly, Muggle kind), she shoved her papers into her bag and all but ran to the apparition point.
Approximately five minutes later, after a brief hello to a sea of red hair, she found herself somehow squeezed into a loveseat between Ginny and Hannah, with a generous glass of wine in her hand. She'd barely opened her mouth to apologise for being late, before she'd been drawn into a huge bear hug by both women.
'How are you?' Hannah had asked in a hushed voice.
'Charles is a troll's testicle,' Ginny had followed up, with something close to genuine malice.
'Christ Gin, I always thought I was your favourite brother!' came a gruff response.
All three women looked up, and Hermione was met with the frankly beautiful sight of none other than Charles Weasley. She really tried to stop her jaw dropping, and mostly succeeded. He had an easy smile on his lips, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. He was stood next to Bill who had been distracted by a scuffle which had started between his two children, over what appeared to be a broken quill.
'Yeah, well you were until Fred got me tickets to see the Weird Sisters for my birthday, and you sent me a scarf,' Ginny fired back.
His smile spread into an all-out grin and he lifted his hands in mock surrender.
'I asked you what you wanted, and I got you what you asked for!' he defended himself.
Before Ginny could respond, he quickly changed the subject.
'More importantly, can you tell me why I'm being compared to a troll's unspeakable parts?' he asked, casting a wary eye towards Mrs. Weasley, and evidently deciding she wasn't far enough away to risk repeating Ginny's exact wording.
'I'm not talking about you; I was referring to Hermione's frankly shocking choice of ex-boyfriend.' she retorted.
'Hermione?' he asked, looking at her properly for the first time.
'Merlin, is that really Hermione Granger?' his eyebrows shot towards his hairline in surprise.
'Of course it's Hermione!' Ginny responded, exasperated.
Hermione found herself smiling apologetically, and raising her glass in salute.
'Imagine bushier hair, bigger teeth and a few books, and it will come back to you.' she quipped.
He blinked, clearly still a little dumbfounded. She tried not to think about how she felt about his appraising look, as his eyes flicked from the aforementioned slightly smoother hair, to her professional, but stylish black heels.
He was saved from responding by Mr. Weasley informing them that dinner was ready. She decided to ignore him as she took her usual seat, with Arthur on her left, which was made more difficult as he had been put directly across from her. Dinner was soon underway and Charlie was engrossed in a conversation with Ron and Fred about Quidditch, so began the latest round of questions.
It was her routine to take the previous month's Muggle newspapers with her to supper for Arthur, and they'd often discuss them the following month. He leaned in and in a hushed tone of voice asked her about an article he'd read about robot dinosaur hotels in Japan. It had somehow then descended into a conversation about Roombas and whether their indentured servitude was similar to the bonds placed on a house-elf.
She gently and firmly reassured him that they were quite different, which he accepted, but she knew the topic would come up again. Bill interjected then, distracting Arthur with a conversation about work and Hermione breathed a little sigh of relief.
She sat back in her seat and took in the various people around the table with a fond smile. She took a healthy gulp of her wine, which she regretted when her eyes reached Charlie, only to find him staring straight at her. She choked on the wine and after waving off a few concerned looks, quickly excused herself to the kitchen to clean the red stain off her white blouse, and find some water.
She heard someone come in from the door to the garden, where Fred, Bill and Ron had set up the dinner tables earlier. It would be Ginny, sent by Mrs. Weasley to check on her.
'I'm honestly fine Gin, I'll be back in a bit,' she said over her shoulder as she tried to remember the charm for removing tricky stains.
'Don't worry, I told her I'd come and get her if you weren't.'
Hermione wheeled around to find Charlie Weasley grinning back at her from the doorway.
'Charlie! Sorry, I thought you were Ginny,' she heard herself say.
'So, I gathered,' he replied, still smiling.
'Hmm,' she replied, eloquently.
'Have you tried Tergeo?' he asked.
'What?' she replied, dumbly.
'For the stain?' he replied, pointing at her chest.
She stared for what felt like a full five minutes, but must only have been a few seconds.
He stepped towards her slowly, as if afraid he would spook her, and then carefully directed her to a chair.
'Here we go,' he told her, his voice low and reassuring, as if he were speaking to something wild that might take flight at any moment.
He drew is wand carefully and muttered the charm, which removed the worst of the stain. He followed it with a quick Scourgify for good measure, and the blot of red was completely gone.
'Thank you.'
'You're welcome,' he smiled, white teeth flashing briefly.
Bloody hell, had he always smiled this much she wondered?
She cleared her throat and he blinked. He stowed his wand and offered her a hand up, they walked in companionable silence back out to the garden. Hermione tried and failed not to think about warmth of his calloused palms, or the smell of wood and musk that seemed to cling to him. He steered her back to her seat with a brief, barely-there touch on her lower back, and she found herself swallowing rather loudly.
She thought she could feel his eyes on her several times during the remainder of dinner, but every time she shot him a subtle glance, he was busy talking to one relative or another. Eventually people broke off into groups, sharing drinks and stories, as they often did.
Ginny informed her that Charlie was back in England for a couple of months, on some secret work for the ministry. She was a bit put out that he wouldn't go into more detail, but she did say that she got the impression it wasn't something he was pleased about.
The conversation was cut short when she was called away to deal with a war wound James had acquired while mock duelling with Ron's son, Fred.
Angelina waved at her and as she headed over to where she was stood with Hannah, but was intercepted by Molly calling her over. Angelina just smiled as she turned back to her conversation and Hermione joined Molly, where she was stood with Bill and Charlie.
'There you are my dear!' she exclaimed, engulfing her in a warm hug.
Hermione couldn't help but squeeze her a bit tighter than normal, the lingering rub on her shoulder as they parted spoke of love and understanding, and she sighed with relief. It was good to be around family again.
'You're getting too thin; you must have some more biscuits before you leave.' Molly told her with a frown.
Bill pulled her into a shorter but equally fierce hug, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek.
'Fleur sends her love, he told her.
'Send mine back, tell her I'll nip in and see her on Tuesday, after work.'
'She'll love that, I think she's going mad being stuck in the house.'
'Not long now,' Hermione soothed.
He smiled and shrugged a little helplessly. Hermione knew Fleur was as magnanimous as any woman could be when she was about to give birth, but even she had her limits. The baby was already two weeks overdue, and she was understandably very ready to not be pregnant.
'If it's not here by Friday, we're going to St Mungo's and they'll induce her. We'll be staying with mum and dad for a month or so after the baby is here anyway. With Victorie and Dominique, we'll be glad of the help,' Bill said.
'It will be tight, with Charlie here too, and George and Angelina and the children, but we'll manage, Molly said cheerfully.
Hermione had forgotten George and his little family were staying at the Burrow (mark two) while they were waiting for their new house to be treated for a nasty Doxy infestation.
'Honestly mum, I'll just get a room at the Leaky Cauldron, give you all a bit more space.' Charlie said.
'You are family, and you will do no such thing.' Mrs. Weasley responded, aghast.
'Mum…' he began.
'Charles Weasley, I will not argue with you about this,' she told him, shooting him a glare that Hermione privately thought might have quelled Voldemort.
Charlie did not look pleased, but clearly knew better than to argue.
'Why doesn't Charlie just stay with Hermione? She has an empty spare room.'
All eyes were on Ginny, who had appeared with a serene smile, seemingly from nowhere.
Before Charlie could offer an opinion, Molly had clapped her hands together decisively.
'Oh, that would be perfect, if you're quite sure Hermione?'
Finding absolutely no ready excuse to hand, Hermione found herself agreeing with a smile and assuring Charlie it would be no trouble at all, she had plenty of space. George swept in then and dragged Charlie off to play what seemed to be a highly unorthodox game of exploding snap.
Finally, it was time to leave and she found herself standing face to face with the enigmatic Dragon Keeper, a short distance from the Burrow, offering her arm to sidelong him back to her little house. And so, arm in arm, they arrived with a pop in her shed, which contained all manner of accumulated junk, and just enough space for two people to Apparate into. It wasn't an elegant solution, but it was discreet and most importantly, not actually connected to her house. She was still very cautious about security.
She cast the four spells required to allow guests to exit and enter the shed while still in possession of a wand, and led Charlie towards the house. She then slowly and meticulously adjusted her wards to permit him entry, most of them had been applied by Bill when she'd bought the place, several more had been added by a fellow Unspeakable, and she had added to this two of her own. Despite trusting both men implicitly, she felt it was important that no single person knew all of the enchantments protecting her home.
If Charlie thought the wards excessive, he didn't mention it, which Hermione was grateful for.
The back door led into her kitchen, which she hadn't really changed since she'd bought the place. It was the width of the house and to the right there was a round wooden table, pitted here and there with many years of use. There was a tall Welsh dresser along one wall, which contained her crockery and various pots and pans, and then to the left was the main kitchen. A great range took up most of the far wall, and there were cabinets against either side, with a large ceramic sink under the window. She had repainted the walls a beautiful soft green, and she added two rugs to protect bare feet from the harsh cold of the flagstone floor, but otherwise it was the same.
'Very homey,' Charlie declared from behind her.
She jumped a bit, having briefly forgotten he was there.
'Oh! Erm, yes. It's actually one of the big reasons I bought the place. Sort of reminds me of the Burrow now that I think about it,' she mused aloud.
Charlie smiled at that.
'Yeah, I can see what you mean, bit less chaotic though,' he chuckled.
She led them through to the corridor which led to the front door and showed him the living room to the left, and the study to the right. She also informed him that there was a little loo under the stairs, if he needed it.
He poked his head inside each room. The living room was warm and inviting, with a fireplace against the far wall and two almost excessively soft sofas either side, with a large low coffee table in the middle. She'd done away with the curio cabinet that had been on the opposite wall and replaced it with a small drinks trolly. She omitted the fact that she'd added an undetectable extension charm to the lower cabinet to house the growing collection of wine she was accumulating. Honestly, once you hit your late twenties it seemed to be the go-to gift. She had started re-gifting it to try and shift some, but it hadn't really helped.
The study was predictably more a little library that anything else. Three of the four walls were floor to ceiling bookshelves, with a large bay window against the last, and a neat desk underneath it. It looked out over a small front garden, filled with wildflowers and abandoned pots of herbs. It was a little slice of paradise.
She looked over with a hint of trepidation at Charlie, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the grand tour.
He ran a finger along the spine of a book, bound in soft brown leather. 'Magical Creatures and their Magical Maladies.' was written in faded gold lettering. She shivered slightly as he plucked it from the shelf, though she couldn't have said why.
'This is a really good resource,' he informed her, sounding impressed but not surprised.
He flicked it open to the page she had marked many years ago on Kneazle care. She had purchased the book shortly after acquiring Crookshanks, and while he was now gone, she'd kept the book anyway.
'It was useful when Crooks was older, the Unction of Hawthorn recipe was excellent for his joint pain.'
'I'm sure it was, we use a more potent version at the reserve when it's needed,' he told her approvingly.
'How do you adjust the efficacy?' she asked, her brain immediately whirring with possibilities.
'We stew the Hawthorn for three weeks, rather than the usual one, and stabilise it with…' he began.
'An infusion of Asphodel and Eel Juice, I suppose,' she finished.
He snapped the book closed and gave her a long look.
'Sorry, never did entirely grow out of the know-it-all phase,' she apologised, feeling her cheeks begin to flush.
'Please don't apologise, it's actually quite nice to talk to someone with a head for practical magic,' he told her with a genuine smile.
'Ah, well thank you,' she replied hesitantly.
'Shall I show you where you'll be sleeping?' she offered, leading him back to the corridor.
She tried hard not to focus too hard on the heat of his body behind her as he followed her up, or the little creaks the steps made under his weight.
She opened the bathroom door which was directly opposite the top of the stairs and told him that there were fresh towels and toiletries in the cupboard. She then led him to the guest room, which was decorated with a large wooden four poster, an old but expensive looking armoire, and a chest of drawers. There were two little side tables either side of the bed, and a desk under the window. Behind the door was a small bookcase, which was filled to overflowing, and at the foot of the bed was her old Hogwarts trunk. She'd wanted to keep it for posterity, and her guests always enjoyed the throwback.
Judging from the amused smile on Charlie's face, it seemed to be a hit with him too.
'Love the trunk,' he confirmed, pointing at the faded 'H. Granger' beneath the Hogwarts crest.
'I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it,' she found herself grinning in response.
'I kept mine at the Burrow for a bit, until the twins set it on fire during one of their experiments.' he rolled his eyes, but was clearly more amused than annoyed.
'Oh, good grief, I hope there wasn't anything too important in there? I thought they were charmed to be fire resistant?' she replied.
'Oh, they are. Thankfully I only my old quidditch gear from school and an inhuman amount of Hagrid's finest rock cake in there I think,' he shrugged.
'The rock cake might have survived,' she joked, remembering the tooth cracking treats Hagrid had routinely served with fondness.
Charlie laughed and they reminisced for a moment about taking tea with Hagrid. He and Charlie had always been close, drawn together by a shared love of some of the most dangerous, and as Hagrid would vehemently defend, misunderstood, magical creatures.
'He mentioned you a few times, you know. Always seemed very proud of what you'd achieved.'
Charlie beamed in response.
He dropped his bag onto the bed and Hermione banished the books to the already heaving bookcase in her room, to make space for any he might have brought with him, and they headed back downstairs.
She poured them each a glass of wine and was forced to explain she did not have a 'wine problem' when he queried the size of the cabinet. He told her that he believed her, with the air of someone who absolutely did not.
Eventually they sat side by side on the sofa and both let out a sigh of contentment. He shot her a sidelong glance at the same time that she looked over to him and they shared a companiable chuckle.
They talked for another hour, flitting from topic to topic and Hermione was honestly impressed. She knew he was intelligent; one didn't climb to the heights of Head Keeper at the world's most prestigious dragon reserve in Europe without knowing one end a broom from the other, but she hadn't expected his interests to be so varied.
Eventually, the wine was finished and he declared that he really should get some sleep. Hermione took his glass and carried both back to the kitchen, placing them in the sink, which happily began to wash them for her.
He followed and asked if she minded him grabbing a glass of water. She flicked her hand and a glass quickly appeared, and with another flick it was filled with cool crisp water.
'Thank you. And, before I forget, thanks again for letting me stay. I really don't mind getting a room in Diagon Alley, the Ministry have offered to pay and I know mum didn't really give you a chance to think it through' he told her seriously.
'I really don't mind Charlie, I do like my own space, but the company will be nice,' she reassured him.
'If you're sure, I really don't want to intrude.'
'You're not intruding, if you were I'd have managed to find an excuse, don't worry about that,' she told him with a glint of mischief.
He smiled at her and nodded.
'Yeah, somehow I don't doubt it.'
'Night Charlie, shout if you need anything,' she said, moving past him towards the stairs.
Once again, he followed her up and she thought she heard a 'G'night Hermione,' as she closed the door to her bedroom, not trusting herself to look back.
Had she done so, she would have a seen a confused Charlie Weasley staring back at her. He seemed to shake himself a bit and then closed his own door with a slight frown. He unpacked with a quick wave of his wand and couldn't help the smile that formed when he saw 'Magical Creatures and their Magical Maladies.' was on the little bookshelf behind the door.