"Fuck! Did you soak your feet in an ice bath before you sat down?"
"Oh, don't be such a baby. I have poor circulation."
"Poor circulation? Hermione, Inferi have better circulation than you!"
"Don't be so dramatic," she said, digging her feet further under her companion's leg. "Ah, so warm!"
"Yes, I was, and now I have hypothermia."
Hermione grinned behind the cover of her large book where she was snuggled against the arm of the couch, her feet shoved under Charlie's thigh.
"Maybe you should wear thicker socks," she noted lazily.
"Maybe I –? That's it."
Hermione squealed when Charlie ripped the book out of her hands and dug his fingers into her ribs until she was breathless with laughter.
"Ch-Charlie stop, stop! I surrender!"
"Not good enough!"
"Please! I have to get back to work!"
"Work? You're reading a damn book!"
"I-it's research!"
"On?"
"Charlie!"
"I'm not going to stop until you tell me!"
"Okay, okay, it's about the Elder wand!"
He stopped then and sat back, his hands still on her sides and she was very aware of the warmth of his touch.
"The Elder wand? I thought we gave up on that years ago? It's a myth, isn't it?"
"Well, Harry didn't seem to think so and neither did Dumbledore. If the cloak is real, couldn't the wand be?"
"But if it's true and You-Know-Who took it from Dumbledore then the only way we can defeat him is by winning it off of him."
Hermione nodded sheepishly. "Well, yes, so far as I have found, that's the case."
Charlie's face turned hard.
"You aren't going to try anything stupid, are you?"
"Stupid? Like ending this damnable war? Yes, I am going to try –"
"Hermione that's suicide!"
"Then I'll have died for a good cause!"
"Don't talk like that," he growled. "I'll not have you risking your life over something so reckless!"
"I wouldn't be reckless about it, hence the research! I won't do anything until I am certain –"
"Hermione you'll die before you even get close to him! He knows your face, he'd kill you in an instant!"
"Excuse me, but if Harry could fight him when he was a teenager-"
"And look where it got him!" he roared. "And You-Know-Who's a hell of a lot stronger now than he was back then, you've seen what he can do now!"
"And I'm a hell of a lot stronger than Harry was! Harry knew what he was doing, he didn't lose a fight – he gave himself up freely to give us a chance! He sacrificed himself so that we could all live and we're dying one by one! Ron gave his life for us! The least I can do is to try to make their sacrifices worth it!"
"So, you don't think you being alive is worth their sacrifice?"
Hermione found herself at a loss for words.
"I..."
"You have no idea what you mean to everyone, do you?" His voice was harsh, his eyes flashing with anger, but his features had softened as they drank her in. Hermione's mouth went dry at his predatory look.
"To everyone?" she asked softly. His fingers dug into her waist where he held her and he moved forward infinitesimally before cursing harshly and leaping off the couch, striding from the room furiously.
Hermione stayed where she was, stunned. He'd been about to kiss her; she knew he had.
And she'd been about to let him.
…
Hermione's head snapped up from the book she'd been pretending to read when she heard the door slam downstairs. Checking to make sure that Mrs. Weasley was still snoozing peacefully in her chair, Hermione set down her book and tiptoed out of the room. Charlie was never this late and she hated that she'd been worrying over him.
She heard him cursing from a floor up and quickened her steps.
"Charlie? Are you alright? What –oh, my gods –!"
"Hermione, don't, I'm alright-"
"Like hell! What happened?" she cried, nearly tripping down the last few stairs in her haste to get to him. His robes were in a pile on the floor and the front of his shirt was torn from his left shoulder down to his navel where a gaping wound was bleeding steadily.
"Just a little Splinching, is all," he gasped. "No need to fuss."
"No need to – dammit, Charlie, sit down before you fall down!"
Indeed, the redhead was white as a sheet and listing dangerously. Hermione grabbed his elbow and maneuvered him to the ground with more ease than made her comfortable. Charlie hissed in pain when she ripped the shirt away from the wound so she could see it better. Her stomach did a slow, sick roll at the grisly sight and her mind flashed back to the last time a Weasley had been in her care after a Splinching. Swallowing back the painful memory, Hermione steadied herself and dug her wand out of her leg holster, her hands already slick with Charlie's blood.
"Accio Dittany!"
Catching the small bottle in mid-air, Hermione used her teeth to un-stopper it and set to work dripping the healing tincture over the wound. Charlie snarled in pain and used several unseemly words to express his anguish.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, just try to hold still, I know it hurts," she soothed as she continued her work diligently. "Tell me what happened."
"Found a couple of Death Eaters –ah! – near the safehouse in Andorra. Thought I'd – fuck! – catch them by surprise. Fucking fool. We got into it; they got the upper hand. Argh! Decided to get out of there, spell hit me mid-Apparition. Lost my concentration."
"You shouldn't have engaged them without backup!" Hermione lectured, angry at him for putting himself in danger so recklessly.
"Aye, I'll remember that next time – fuck me!"
"Hold on, I'm almost done," Hermione said, watching with relief as the wound stitched itself together, the bleeding slowing and finally stopping as the last of it knitted into place, leaving a gruesome scar in its wake.
Charlie panted heavily where he was slumped against the door, his eyes closed, his face wan, his blood covering them both and pooling on the floor. Summoning a Blood-Replenishing Potion, Hermione lifted Charlie's head and helped him drink it. She debated for a moment before Summoning a Pain Potion and assisting him with it as well. Color began to return to his cheeks and the crease of pain between his brows eased.
"Much better, thank you," he rasped, leaning his head back against the door in exhaustion.
"Are you injured anywhere else?" she questioned, quickly glancing over him to be sure she didn't miss anything additional, but he shook his head.
"Just the one, though not without lack of trying."
A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth and Hermione's fear eased. If he was well enough to crack a joke, then she'd done her job.
"Let me call Madam Pomfrey so she can take a look at you –"
"Not necessary, got everything I need right here," he said, patting her knee. "All I require is a quick kip and I'll be right as rain."
Hermione's heart squeezed at his sentiments, but she shoved aside her thoughts.
"Let's get you to bed. Do you think you can walk?"
"What, not feeling up to carrying me?"
"Would you like to see me try?"
He laughed, his eyes opening to look at her and her stomach flipped again at the intensity of his gaze.
"Maybe next time. I'd rather be at my best when I get you on your back."
Hermione bit her lip at his salacious response and the carnal image it inspired. Sensing her discomfort, Charlie chuckled.
"I'll take a hand for the time being."
Hermione rose and tucked her wand away, trying not to think about the blood-covered entryway and what could have happened had he not been able to get to her. What if she had been asleep or his Apparition had taken him to the wrong place? The thought brought bile to the back of her throat as she reached down to help Charlie to a standing position. She longed to draw him into her arms, to feel the comfort of them, but she settled with her hands on his shoulders to steady him as he swayed.
"Are you alright? Do you want to sit back down?"
"No, I'll be fine, just a mite woozy."
"You can sleep in my bed tonight, it's the closest."
"Another time I would chivalrously decline your offer, but as I'd rather not spend the night on the floor just now, I think I'll accept and even refrain from all the naughty things I could say about sleeping in your bed."
"Much appreciated," Hermione smiled. They waited a moment more for his dizziness to settle before Hermione wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulder and assisted him up the stairs. It was an arduous task as Charlie was much weaker than he wanted to admit and though she'd built muscle over the years through training, he still outweighed her by a great deal. She was grateful he'd accepted the closer bed so she didn't have to half-drag him up two more flights of stairs.
Flicking on the light in the small room, Hermione helped Charlie slump onto the queen-sized bed that was shoved up against the wall in the cramped room. She held back thoughts of the nights she'd spent with Charlie's youngest brother there and eased him slowly onto the pillows. He was gasping by the time his head hit the bed, his eyes closed again from the exertion.
"This feels amazing, thank you," he panted. Hermione set about Scourgifying his clothes and mending his shirt until all the evidence of what had occurred was gone. Then she removed his shoes and tucked him in before hurrying to the bathroom for supplies which she dumped on the small table next to the bed. Grabbing a small canister, Hermione pulled the covers down to Charlie's waist and began to lift his shirt. He started, having drifted off during her cleaning routine, and grabbed her hand, still caked with his dried blood.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I have a balm here; it will ease some of the pain and lessen the scarring. We'll need to put it on twice a day until it's fully healed."
"Sounds like that would have been handy to have at the reservation."
"Madam Pomfrey and I worked on it for years. We didn't want people to have to carry evidence of the war for the rest of their lives. Some memories are better left in the past."
Charlie held her gaze for a moment. They both knew what she was referring to, but neither wanted to delve into that particular pool. It was too hard to think about Ron with all the emotions that were building up inside of her about Charlie. He thankfully did not respond, and Hermione helped him remove his shirt so she could access the wound. She focused on keeping her gaze solely on her task, although it ached to wander over his strong muscles and light dusting of red-gold chest hair. He was so intensely masculine that she could feel her body responding, a simmering heat rippling through her.
Hermione's hand shook slightly as she rubbed the ointment over the angry-looking scar. Charlie's breathing grew shallow and she wondered if it was due to the pain or her touch. She quickly decided she probably didn't want to know the answer to that particular question.
When she finished, she dipped some cloth in a bowl of fragrant liquid and wrung out the excess before laying it over the wound.
"That should help with the pain as well," she explained.
"It feels much better, thank you."
"Of course."
"Hermione."
He grabbed her hand when she started to rise and she stared at the connection for a moment before meeting his gaze.
"Thank you. You saved my life. I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"You can repay me by not getting yourself almost killed again. I can't…. I can't lose you, too."
Charlie thumbed back the tear that had escaped her barely suppressed emotions and cupped her cheek.
"You won't, Hermione. I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I never do."
Swallowing back the hot ball which had lodged in her throat, she turned away and rose, though the increased pressure from his hand bade her to stay.
"You need to get some sleep. I'll check in on you in a bit."
"Hermione…"
"Call if you need anything."
Hermione hurried from the room before she did or said anything she would regret. She made her way quickly to the kitchen where she collapsed against the pantry door and gave way to the tears which beckoned.
…
Hermione stood at the back door of headquarters, staring out into the night. It was quiet, cool, hardly a breeze stirred. The moon filtered through wispy clouds, a vast contrast to the incessant downpour which had plagued them all day. She took in the small yard and now-barren garden. Try as she might, she could not get her feet to move from this spot, the one she'd stood in for the better part of an hour. Her mind was resolved, but her heart resisted.
It was March 1st.
Ron's birthday.
She sucked in another breath as if steeling herself to move past the door jamb and into the night, but it was as if her feet were glued to the floor. She squeezed her wand tight, begging it to give her the strength she lacked.
"Love, I'd suggest a Jack-Frost Mint if you're feeling feverish, otherwise the rest of us are freezing our bollocks off here."
Hermione started at his voice and turned to Charlie, her feet firmly planted.
She opened her mouth to apologize, but no words came. She clenched her lips tight and turned her now swimming eyes back to the yard.
"Hermione…"
She heard the pity in his voice but she couldn't stand it, not now. She needed to be strong, she had to do this. For Ron. For herself. For her sanity.
His footsteps neared but she kept her stance, willing herself to take that first step. And then he was at her back, his warmth radiating into her frozen body, his hand coming to her shoulder.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Her mouth ran dry and her hands trembled where they gripped her wand.
"I…"
"Come on, love. He deserves to be put to rest. He's fought long enough."
Tears spilled onto her cheeks unbidden and her head fell against the insurmountable grief. How could he have known? She hadn't told anyone of her intention to build a tombstone for Ronald tonight. She'd endured the endless parade of babysitters throughout the day, waiting for a moment of peace when she could finally give Ron that one last release.
She hadn't even realized Charlie had moved until a heavy cloak was draped over her shoulders, warmed by the fire roaring at the end of the room. She looked up into blue eyes so like her lost love's and smiled in thanks.
"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked again, his face full of concern. She nodded without thought, craving his strength, underestimating how hard this moment would be now that it was here.
"Alright then," he said softly, taking her hand in his and stepping outside. He looked back at her but did not pull her along. Knowing she needed to take this step herself, Hermione took a deep, steadying breath, and squeezed his hand before easing slowly over the threshold. The sopping grass quickly drenched her trainers as she led Charlie down to the spot she'd predetermined as Ronald's final resting place. Her heart stuttered as she approached the barren rosebush which, in a few weeks, would bloom with wild pink roses, descendants to the ones he'd filled their room with the morning after she agreed to marry him. She'd woken to sun and hundreds of the coral blooms spilling from every container he'd come across, the smile reserved only for her on his face as he watched her sleep.
"You're so beautiful, Hermione," he had said, his face full of awe. "I can't believe you're mine."
More tears slid down her cheeks at the memory and she pushed it into the back of her mind, knowing she'd never be able to go through with this if she didn't focus.
"Take your time," Charlie said quietly, mimicking the hauntingly silent night around them. It was as if the world were paying their respects as well.
"I wanted to say something," she croaked, her voice raw from restrained tears. "But now I can't think of anything…"
"He knows."
She nodded, steeling herself. Dropping Charlie's hand, she took her wand up properly and knelt in the soggy grass. Raising her wand, she allowed the image in her mind to come forward and Conjured a simple stone, carving his name and a short message:
With the heart of a lion
And the love of a thousand
Into eternity I go
"It's perfect."
Charlie knelt behind her, pulling her into his arms when sobs wracked her body. Neither of them said a word as Hermione cried out her aching heart until there were no more tears left. Numb, she allowed Charlie to lift her into his arms and carry her to the bed she'd shared with Ron, drying her clothes and tucking her in while she lay perfectly still, unable to process anymore.
She lay there in the dark for what seemed like hours before rising to change into pajamas and sneak downstairs to make herself a cup of tea. Movement outside the kitchen window had her looking out towards the stone she had just created, her heart breaking when she saw the shuddering shoulders of Charlie slumped over it. She turned away to give him his privacy. Readying a second cup, she enchanted it to stay warm and left it on the table for him when he was ready to come back inside. She'd no sooner turned towards the stairs when the door opened and Charlie walked in, his eyes red-rimmed, his handsome face gaunt with grief. He started when he saw her and quickly masked his features.
"I thought you were asleep, I –"
"I left you some tea," she interrupted, saving him from having to explain himself. He stared at her for a long moment until his tense expression relaxed.
"I could use some company, if you have any to spare."
Hermione smiled at him. "I'll see what I can dig up, miserable as it may be tonight."
"There's nothing miserable about you, Hermione. Well, except maybe your cooking."
They both laughed softly and Hermione felt a weight lift off her. They took their tea to the sitting room upstairs, settling in on the couch before the fire, comfortable in their silence. Hermione didn't reject the offer of Ogden's when she'd emptied her teacup, allowing the liquid to soothe her wounds.
When her head grew heavy she laid it on Charlie's shoulder, and when his arm came around her, she didn't shrug it off.