Hermione woke with a start to screaming coming from downstairs. Recognizing Molly's voice, she dashed down to the kitchen as fast as her legs would take her, wand clenched in her fist.
"– don't care what you say he is my son, he's my baby –!"
"Molly, I understand your pain, I do, but I can't spare any more time, we're losing ground –"
"Do you think I give one lick about 'losing ground?' The only thing I care about is getting my son back to me!"
Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up at Hermione's entrance, his eyes entreating her to intervene.
"Molly, we are losing the war, we need to focus on gaining control of –"
"After everything Ronald has done for you, for the cause, and you're just going to give up on him? Just like that?" Molly sobbed, sounding desperate but more coherent than she had in weeks.
"Molly, you know how highly I regarded your son and we can never repay him for his sacrifices, but the fact is that it's been nearly two months and we've had no trace –"
"I don't care if it's been two years! You keep looking for him until he is back here in my arms or so help me, Kingsley –"
"Molly, we have done the best that we can do, but we need to work on the real issues here."
Hermione felt her heart drop.
"So, you're calling off the search?"
Hermione hadn't even heard Charlie arrive but was grateful that he'd said the words she hadn't been able to voice as her heart had somehow wrapped itself around her vocal cords.
Kingsley met their eyes and nodded somberly.
"I'm sorry. Truly, I am. I cared for Ron and he was an invaluable asset to the Order, but the fact is that the Death Eaters have been using our waning attention to target some of our larger holds. We lost France this morning, the ministry fell overnight; their minister has been publicly executed."
Hermione felt the breath leave her chest and she closed her eyes against the harsh reality. She knew it was her failure the night before which had forced Shacklebolt's hand. She hadn't even realized she was shaking until she felt Charlie's steadying hand on her shoulder.
"I don't care if every single country falls –" Molly growled.
"Mum, please."
Molly's head snapped up as if to scream at her son until she took note of Hermione's pale face and she was instantly remorseful.
"Oh, my dear, I didn't mean to upset you," she said, hurrying over to Hermione and enveloping her in her arms as she used to do so often. "Come, let's have a cup of tea while Charlie talks some sense into this man."
"No," Hermione murmured, not allowing Molly to steer her upstairs. "No, I need to be here. We'll need to act quickly if we want to retake control of France. Kingsley, have you heard from Bill or Fleur?"
"They're holding down the headquarters there, Order members that were stationed at the ministry there have flooded the estate looking for shelter."
"We'll have another house set up; I'll get started on it right away. We still have friends in Belgium, we can begin filtering them across the border, but we'll need to be discreet."
She didn't meet Molly's eyes as they narrowed in betrayal.
"Fine," Molly snapped, wiping her hands on her robes. "Fine, I see that I am the only one here who cares about Ronald –"
"Mother don't do this; Hermione is hurting just as much as you –" Charlie began.
"A fine way of showing it! Forgetting all about the man she was supposed to marry!"
"No one is forgetting about Ron, but there are more tasks at hand than just him!" Charlie explained. "Ron wouldn't want the Order to fall apart just to look for him! We'll have a better chance of finding him if we stick together and keep soldiers on the ground!"
Molly whipped around at the door and gave Hermione a look of pure loathing such as she'd never seen before.
"You don't deserve my son."
She stomped up the stairs and Hermione bit her lip harshly against the lash of her words.
Charlie snarled and started after the woman, but Hermione stilled him, shaking her head.
"She's in pain, she's not thinking straight. Fighting will do her no good. Madam Pomfrey said we need to keep her as calm as possible," she said tightly, the sting of Molly's accusation like a knife to the heart.
"She had no right –"
"She didn't mean it. She'll come around." Hermione turned to Kingsley. "Can you connect me to the Floo at Louise and Helena's? I can see if there is a suitable location near their farm."
…
Hermione stepped out of the warm green flames to a welcoming smell of garlic.
"Chef Weasley is at it again, I see," she said, unwrapping her scarf and hanging it on the hook next to the fireplace. She saw Charlie stirring a red sauce at the stove and he winked at her as she walked over.
"Well, if the reserve decides not to have me back, I suppose I could open a restaurant. Mum always dreamed about it, but with seven kids..."
Hermione poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle sitting on the counter, sighing in relief that the day was finally over.
"How's the safehouse coming along?" Charlie asked, eyeing her as she drank deeply.
"Oh, it's safe alright, but I'm not sure it will be enough. It's filled to the rafters. I had to modify the barn this morning just to accommodate everyone and there's more coming. With the French ministry in Death Eater hands people are too scared to remain home. I found another place just outside of Andorra. I thought it might be safer to move south; there have been whispers in Germany of another uprising."
Charlie cursed, turning away from his pasta. "I can talk to a couple of people at the reserve, Romania is still independent."
"Viktor reached out to me as well. I'll look into it, but it's just too far to get people there safely in these numbers. We can't exactly Floo them all out and the patrols in France have already started to take notice. They caught a group today as they were waiting for their Portkey. The only thing that arrived was a child's finger."
"Merlin," Charlie breathed. Hermione nodded, taking another swig as if the alcohol could erase the image from her mind.
"I should have stepped in sooner, all these people…they've lost their homes, their lives, all because I wasn't focusing on the task at hand..."
"Hermione, you can't do this to yourself. You can't blame the French ministry falling last week on yourself, that's absurd! You're not that important, you know."
Hermione glared up at Charlie who grinned.
"Come on, Queen of the World, those vegetables aren't going to chop themselves."
"I thought you didn't like my cooking?" she quipped, continuing to sip her wine.
"Cooking, no, you're the worst cook I've ever met, but you're a damn fine potion maker, so I assume you can handle the chopping of some greens."
"What a charmer."
"Not just dragons, love."
Hermione snorted but moved to the sink to scrub her grimy hands before turning to the cutting board where a small mound of produce awaited. She dragged a tomato over and was barely half done before she heard tutting above her left shoulder.
"Well, you know what they say about assumptions."
"What? What's wrong with it?" Hermione cried, looking down at what looked like perfectly acceptable cubes of tomato.
"I asked you to cut them, not pulverize them."
"You didn't ask, you ordered, and there is nothing wrong with this tomato!"
"You're an embarrassment to the culinary art, do you know that?"
"Well, if you're so bloody much better, you can do it yourself!" she snapped, bringing the blade down so hard the last half of the tomato rocketed across the room, much to Charlie's raucous delight.
"A true chef in the making, ladies and gentlemen!"
"Oh, bugger off!" she snapped, slamming down the knife and turning to leave, but Charlie grabbed her shoulder and turned her back. She could see how hard he was fighting to contain his mirth.
"I'm sorry, alright? You're doing fine, I won't say another word!"
"I'll believe that when pigs fly."
"A well-placed Levitating Charm should do the trick."
Hermione glared at him because, well, he wasn't wrong.
The corner of Charlie's mouth quirked. "C'mon, I was just pulling your leg. Let me show you how it's done."
"I do not need instruction on chopping vegetables!"
Charlie turned to the tomato splatter on the wall, the remains of which were now on the floor. Hermione couldn't suppress the laugh that bubbled forth.
"Alright, I concede. Teach me, Obi-Wan."
"Obi-what?"
Hermione shook her head. "Never mind. Muggle thing."
"I'll never comprehend your strange Muggle sayings."
"They'd make sense if you owned a television."
"What, those bizarre talking tubes?"
"Give it up, Pureblood, you'll never understand."
"You know, I do believe that is the first time I've heard that term used as an insult."
"Well, get used to it, lowlife."
"Ouch, we've got the claws out tonight!" Charlie smirked, his too-long bangs falling into his eyes endearingly. "Crookshanks been teaching you how to fight?"
"It's been a long day. Now, are you going to show me how to cut this cucumber to Weasley standard or shall I take a seat and enjoy my wine?"
"Oh no, Miss Granger, you must pay your dues. I will turn you into an adequate sous if it kills me."
"It just might."
Charlie chuckled and picked up the knife, tossing it into the air with a flip of his wrist and catching it easily while Hermione flinched. He grinned and began chopping the cucumber exactly how she thought she'd been doing with the tomato.
"It's all in the wrist, see?"
"No, I don't see. That's exactly how I was doing it and you mocked me."
"No, you were lifting the entire knife like this. See how much less control you have? Keep the tip to the board and simply rock it."
"What difference does it make whether I rock it or simply chop the damn vegetable like a normal person?"
"Well, little Miss Perfectionist, if you look at your poor demolished tomato, all the slices are different sizes."
"But what does it matter if some pieces are a little bigger than others?"
"Well, for one it's an art. For another, they'll cook differently."
"We're making a salad, there's no cooking required."
"True, but say this was a zucchini and we were going to sauté it. You wouldn't want the pieces to be different thicknesses as they would cook at different rates."
"But it's a salad."
Charlie stopped chopping to look at her, raising a brow.
"You're goading me, aren't you?"
Hermione tried to hold back her smile but failed.
"Minx. Alright, your turn, you try, I'm tired of your second-rate meals."
"Excuse me, but I have been feeding –"
"Nah-ah-ah-ah, less talking, more chopping."
Hermione glared at him. "You're impossible, you know."
"Impossibly handsome? I'm well aware."
Hermione laughed derisively to hide the blush that crept along her cheeks. It was wicked that she didn't think he was wrong.
Hermione endeavored to do exactly as Charlie had done, but he continued to critique.
"What did that poor cucumber ever do to you?
"Well, for starters, he ended up on this counter simply so you could have a laugh."
"At least we know his life wasn't for naught. Here, stop, you're going to give me an aneurysm."
Hermione jumped when she felt his strong arms come around her, taking her small hands in his and adjusting her grip on the knife.
"You don't need to throttle the poor lad; a light touch will do. There, feel the difference?"
Hermione nodded as she didn't trust her voice. Her heart was speeding in her chest at the feel of Charlie pressed up against her back. It felt so good to be held like this again and he smelled divine, his calloused fingers making her belly do flip-flops as they rubbed against her suddenly sensitive skin.
"Now feel the motion, there, see? Just like that."
Even after she'd gotten down the rhythm, Charlie made no indication of moving. In fact, he stepped up a little bit closer and she could have sworn she felt his nose in her hair. She knew she should push him away, what would Ron think?
But Ron wasn't here and it felt so nice to be held again, and Charlie was so masculine and his hands...
They jumped apart when the fireplace roared to life and a frantic Seamus Finnigan burst out of the flames, blood pouring down his face.
"Hermione, come quickly, it's Dean's mum, they've been found! There're Muggles there, his sisters –!"
Hermione whipped out her wand while running towards the grate, ignoring Charlie's protests. She turned to Seamus as she threw Floo Powder into the flames.
"Find Kingsley, Seamus! Let him know a safehouse has been compromised!"
"Hermione, dammit –"
…
"Oh, thank Merlin!"
Hermione hmphed as she was seized by a pair of muscular arms the moment she walked through the door.
"Fuck, I tried to follow you but I couldn't hear what you said in the grate and that Irish bloke was gone so fast that I couldn't –"
"Charlie, relax, it's fine, we were able to get everyone out."
"Are you alright?" His face creased with concern, his freckles bunching together.
"What?"
"Are you hurt?"
He whipped her back, looking her up and down, centering in on the nasty gash to her right shoulder which was still bleeding lazily.
"I'm fine, nothing I can't fix –"
"Here, sit, you look like death."
"Once again with the charm."
"Just shut up and sit down, will you?"
Hermione was taken aback at his tone. She allowed herself to be steered into a chair, Charlie kneeling before her. He looked frantic, his wand arm shaking as he raised it to heal her wound.
"Charlie, are you alright?"
"I'd be a mite bit better if you didn't go storming off into war zones without me."
"It was hardly a war zone, a few bored Death Eaters –"
"And how was I supposed to know that?" he snapped as he sealed the wound and Conjured a rag to clean the area.
She frowned. "Charlie, what is this all about?"
"It's about you not getting yourself killed months after I lose my bleeding brother!"
Instantly remorseful, Hermione caught his hand. "I'm sorry. Truly, Charlie, I didn't mean to worry you. Honestly, I didn't know you would care so much..."
"That I would...fucking hell!"
He threw the bloody rag to the floor and rose to pace, dragging his hands through his hair several times before turning to her.
"You're alright?"
"I'm fine."
"And the Thomas's?"
"They're all okay. They're staying at Shell Cottage with Dean and Luna."
He nodded several times before turning and thundering up the steps and out the front door. Hermione jumped when he slammed it closed behind him.
She hated how much she loved him worrying about her.
…
When Hermione woke, it was late. She hadn't ambled in until after fifteen-hundred, the lead she'd been chasing had her running in circles and put up a strong fight until she'd gotten control. She'd eked every bit of useful information she could before ending his pitiful life with a swift Avada and turning her information into the Aurors. She'd collapsed on her bed still in her dirty clothes and woke feeling grimy.
She peeked upstairs quickly on a sleeping Mrs. Weasley. They'd had a hell of a week with her screaming and crying endlessly until Madam Pomfrey intervened with a hefty potion. Hermione was grateful even as guilt warred at her for subduing her future mother-in-law in that way.
After a quick shower, she headed downstairs only to find Charlie sitting at the table with a champagne bottle and two flutes waiting.
"Happy New Year."
"W-what?"
He chuckled. "Figured you'd forgotten. Bell tolled twelve minutes ago. Care to raise a glass with me?"
Feeling confused and awful that she'd entirely forgotten, Hermione allowed Charlie to press a flute of bubbly into her hands.
"To new beginnings," he toasted, making Hermione hesitate.
This would be her first New Year without Ron in...well, twenty years. She didn't know what to say, her mind stuck on wondering where he was, if he even knew it was a different year, knowing the likelihood that he'd been gone for a long time.
"You know, you're supposed to drink after a cheers."
"He's dead, isn't he?"
Charlie lowered his glass, his face suddenly somber.
"Hermione..."
"Don't coddle me. Tell me what you really think."
He was quiet for several moments.
"Yeah," he breathed, his voice raw. "Yeah, I think he's dead."
Although she'd anticipated the words, it was more painful to hear than she'd expected. Like a lance to her chest, she felt her heart being ripped out. A harsh sob sprang suddenly from her lips.
"I'm sorry," she apologized thickly. "I just...I keep thinking he'll be here when I come home or when I wake up…he'll be in the shower like usual. It's just so... unnatural. He's supposed to be here, you know? After Harry it was just us and now he's gone and it's just...it's just me."
"Hermione, it's not just you."
"No, of course not," she sobbed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, "I know that. But it's not the same. It was the three of us in the beginning, and then Harry sacrificed himself so Ron and I carried everything on for him. I know it wasn't just us, but it was our job, this was what we were supposed to do. And I don't know how to do it without him."
"Hermione, you are doing it," Charlie said softly. "You're still living, you're still kicking and breathing and fighting. Your story isn't over."
"But what if his isn't either?" she asked, voicing her worst fear. "What if he's still out there being tortured and I'm doing nothing to save him?"
"Hermione, we've done everything we could. The trail is cold. There's no sign of him. We can't spend forever-"
"I know, I know, I just...I feel like he wouldn't give up this easily if it were me."
Charlie scoffed. "This easily? Hermione, you've been working yourself to the bone for months to find him! No one could have done a better job! But we have to face the truth and move on, no matter how much I hate it. I fucking loved that kid. Fuck, I loved him. But this war isn't over. Our fight isn't over. We have to be strong and carry on for the rest of the world. We don't get a choice. It's us, Hermione. That's it."
He was right. She knew he was right. She closed her eyes against the impossible truth, remembering the feel of Ron's arms one last time and releasing him to the past.
"To new beginnings."
...
XOXO
RynStar15