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It became a routine, Hermione tip-toeing into the silent kitchen just after Charlie had brewed the coffee and having a mug right beside him. The two of them were up far earlier than anyone else in the house. He wasn't used to spending his quiet morning time with another person, but it was nicer than he'd thought it would be. Normally he was alone with his thoughts, sipping scalding coffee in complete silence before he went out to do his work for the day. Now, though, he found himself chatting and laughing with Hermione, the two of them falling into easy conversation morning after morning. Starting his day with a grin on his face was a nice change to the stony silence that his normal mornings consisted of.

Maybe it helped that his days weren't nearly as taxing as usual, either. He didn't need that bit of time in the morning to reset and to steel himself for the day. Not that Charlie didn't love his job-of course he did, but it was still hard work and it required a decent amount of concentration. Just a moment of distraction could cause injuries to himself and others, and he needed his quiet time in the mornings over coffee to get himself in the right mindset for work. At home, things were different. His days were filled with pickup Quidditch games, with helping his Mum decorate the house for Christmas, with drying dishes while Bill washed them. As much as he loved his job, it was nice to have some time where he could just relax without anyone's life being on the line.

Oddly enough, he found himself to be rather fond of Lavender when she wasn't attached to his baby brother's face. Sure, she was a little bit shallow, but she could be quite funny and she seemed to know at least a bit about magical creatures. Charlie fielded a few questions from here that had led to not terrible discussions. It was a little distressing watching her play footsie with Ron at dinner, though. He supposed that was part of why Ginny and Hermione weren't so fond of her.

The morning of Christmas Eve, Charlie made his usual way down the stairs just as the sun began to peek up over the horizon. His hair was loose since his Mum wouldn't be up this early anyway-she'd already hinted at giving him a haircut more than once, so he made sure to keep it tied up when she was around-and he ran a hand through it as he walked toward the kitchen.

Just as he passed under the archway that led to the kitchen, Charlie felt what seemed like an invisible wall in front of him. Confused, he tried to step backward, but that didn't work either. He was firmly stuck in the entryway to the kitchen.

He spun on his heel, trying to walk back toward the stairs, but he was well and truly stuck. Irritated, Charlie pulled his wand out of his pocket and tried a couple of spells, but nothing worked. No matter what he did, he couldn't move. He rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling, and that was when he saw it-a sprig of mistletoe hung above his head.

"George," he growled, frustrated. Of course his brother would have put up enchanted mistletoe for Christmas Eve. It was a product he'd developed ages ago, and Charlie supposed that it mostly made sense. Almost everyone in the house was part of a couple or was family, so a little kiss was no big deal-mostly.

Charlie might even have found it funny if he'd found himself here during breakfast, when Fleur could give him a kiss on the cheek and release him from this trap. He might have found it funny if Ron got stuck and George had to kiss him.

What was decidedly not funny was that Hermione would be down any moment to have coffee, and they'd be the only ones up for hours. Charlie swore, shoving his hand through his hair again and chewing his bottom lip. He needed a solution and he needed one fast. There was no way he was going to ask Hermione to kiss him. Not only was he sure she'd be averse to the idea, he had been trying to push thoughts of her out of his head since he'd arrived. Kissing her would most definitely not be helpful, not even a little bit.

Of course George had had to go and put the mistletoe up the night before. He probably hadn't even thought about the fact that Charlie and Hermione would be up so early.

Suddenly, Charlie heard Hermione's soft footsteps on the stairs and he blanched, his heart racing in his chest. He was running out of time to figure out a solution, and he was beginning to panic. Just as she descended the last step, Charlie moved to lean against the doorjamb in a way that he hoped looked casual. He grinned to hide the panic on his face, and Hermione frowned.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, approaching him cautiously, and Charlie nodded a little more forcefully than he meant to.

"Brilliant," he responded, swallowing thickly and pushing his hair out of his face. "I just, er-I thought that you might like to make the coffee this morning. I want to see how you do it, in case I'm doing something wrong."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, sliding past him sideways into the kitchen. "You make it just fine," she said, but started the coffee brewing anyway. "Why are you acting so strangely? Did something happen?"

Charlie shook his head, plastering another grin on his face. "I'm not acting strangely," he insisted, turning to face her but not moving at all out of the door frame.

"Why don't you sit?" Hermione suggested, gesturing toward one of the chairs and then crossing her arms, challenging him.

A nervous laugh escaped him. "I think I'm good standing, thanks," he managed, and Hermione's expression changed from one of challenging to one of disappointment.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don't know if I've done something to make you uncomfortable but if I did, I'm so sorry-"

"No!" Charlie exclaimed, suddenly standing bolt upright. "No, that's not it at all. You haven't made me uncomfortable. I, er-I actually rather like our little morning coffee time."

Hermione looked relieved. "Me too," she admitted, smiling a bit down at her feet. "I'm sorry. I just… something is clearly going on, and you don't have to talk to me about it, of course. I just thought that maybe I could help. Normally you've got the coffee made and you're sitting at the table when I come down, and now you won't even come over here and sit."

He flushed, swallowing hard and looking up at the sprig of mistletoe. Once Hermione's eyes lifted to see what he was looking at, Charlie cleared his throat. "George must have put it up," he said, his voice softer than normal. "I'm stuck."

Charlie lowered his gaze to meet Hermione's, her cheeks just slightly pink as she realized. "Oh," she breathed. "Of course, he does this every year. I should have warned you, but I forgot that he puts it up so early. It's charmed so that whoever is under it can't move until someone kisses them." She averted her gaze and tucked some hair behind her ear before meeting his gaze again. "I mean, it'll be quite a while before anyone else is up, and I'd hate to just leave you standing there all morning, it can't be comfortable. You'll want to sit and have some coffee, and I-"

"Hermione," Charlie interrupted. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything. I'll be fine until someone comes down, I can just-"

"Nonsense." It was her turn to interrupt him, and she took a deep breath before taking the few steps forward until she was almost nose to nose with him, her chin tilted up toward his face. He had a few inches on her and she had to crane her neck a bit to be this close to his face.

Charlie could smell her shampoo again, could smell the laundry detergent that his Mum used clinging to her clothes, could almost smell the tension in the small amount of air between them. He drew a shaky breath and let his eyes close, a beat passing before she leaned forward and swiftly pressed her tightly closed lips against his own.

It only lasted a second, but he swore that time stopped. For one split second, her curls tickled his face and her scent filled his nose and electricity sparked through him. He was rooted to the spot, his emotions roaring inside of him, his mind blanking completely.

He opened his eyes as she pulled away from him, her face positively scarlet and her eyes screwed shut. Charlie, uninhibited by the charm that had kept him in place, stepped forward and placed his hands on her waist, pushing her up against the counter top and dipping his face down toward hers. Hermione gasped, opening her eyes and looking up at him, and he leaned in to slant his mouth over hers again.

She gasped again and he parted his lips, swallowing the sound and dipping his tongue into her mouth. Hermione's hands flew up his arms and into his hair, her blunt fingernails scraping along his scalp, and he shivered at her touch. His grip tightened on her waist as he kissed her, letting whatever emotions had been building up in him since he'd seen her silhouetted against the sunset pour into the kiss. He didn't know what he was feeling, didn't know if this was a manifestation of his homesickness or some kind of fever dream or whether it had just been entirely too long since he'd kissed someone.

Charlie didn't know how long they stood there in the kitchen, tangled up in each other and exploring each others' mouths, but the sudden sound of the coffee boiling over had them springing apart like they'd been shocked. Hermione looked up at Charlie with wide eyes before swallowing thickly and then, quick as a flash, dashing out of the room.

For a few moments, all he could do was stand there and try to figure out what the fuck had just happened. Charlie was absolutely mortified-he'd just snogged Hermione Granger in his mother's kitchen without so much as a thought. She'd only been doing him a favor, giving him a chaste little peck on the lips to free him from the mistletoe, and he'd shoved her against the countertop and snogged her like some kind of crazy person. She was probably disgusted with him, at the very least, and likely furious as well.

"Fuck," he swore, pulling the coffee off the stove and dumping it all down the sink. It was ruined, anyway, and he suddenly wasn't in the mood to drink it anymore. Charlie marched himself up the stairs, changed his clothes and donned his jacket, and then ran back down the stairs and outside into the snow.

Charlie wasn't sure how long or how far he walked. He was normally good with that sort of thing, feeling more at home in the outdoors than he ever did inside, but he was too distracted to pay much attention to where he was going. The freezing air bit at his nose and cheeks and ears, as he'd forgotten his hat, but he barely registered it. He was too lost in the storm raging in his head.

Maybe he ought to leave, he thought. The Burrow was as much Hermione's home now as it was his, maybe even more so. He'd been away for the last few Christmases, what was another? It wasn't fair to Hermione for him to hang around, reminding her that he'd practically assaulted her in the kitchen. Worse, she might leave instead, and he'd feel even more guilty. He'd created this situation and made her uncomfortable. It was the absolute least he could do, leaving so that she could stay and be comfortable.

Still, he knew how his family would react if he told them he was leaving-or worse, if he left without saying anything at all. Besides, the Portkey wasn't due to take him back until the day after New Year's, which meant he'd have to apparate from point to point until he could get back to the reserve. It would be exhausting and take a while, and he'd have to be incredibly careful not to splinch himself from apparating so many times in a row. It was doable, but he'd need to make sure that he wasn't tired when he started, which meant that it was going to have to wait until the next morning. He'd already been walking around for a good portion of the day, staying out in the fields that surrounded the Burrow, far from his family and friends at home.

Charlie had spent much of his childhood out in these fields, often staying out from dawn until dusk. He had loved nature from a young age and could usually be found outdoors, wandering through tall grass and wildflowers on bare feet. It was comforting to be here now, despite the snow that came past his ankles and crunched beneath his boots as he walked. There was something bracing about the cold, something that helped him think more clearly.

He made up his mind. He'd go back for dinner, so not to raise any questions, and then he'd leave in the middle of the night. He'd just have to leave his Mum a note in the kitchen apologizing for leaving, and that would be that. Charlie had known that coming home was going to be a mistake somehow, and he'd managed to muck things up rather splendidly. Taking a deep breath of cold air and feeling just a bit sharper, Charlie turned on his heel and trudged toward home.

If he'd come back any earlier, someone might have questioned his absence, but as luck would have it he arrived smack in the middle of dinner preparations. Charlie made his way quietly through the kitchen, slipping past everyone and through the (thankfully mistletoe-free) archway and up the stairs. Dinner, it seemed, was well under control, although he hadn't seen Hermione in the kitchen. She was probably trying to avoid him, he thought as he entered the bathroom to take a hot shower.

As he stepped beneath the scalding spray, Charlie sighed. A hot shower was one of the few things he allowed himself to simply enjoy. It was a luxury that he looked forward to, especially when he'd been out in the cold weather, and normally it was somewhere he could clear his mind and just relax.

Now, however, Charlie caught a whiff of the open bottle of coconut shampoo and his mind was instantly flooded with Hermione. How she'd felt beneath his hands, the taste of her lips, the warm honey brown of her eyes when she smiled at him.

Evidently it had been a long time since he'd so much as snogged anyone, because in moments his cock had sprung to life and was standing at attention from just a few thoughts of her. Their kiss in the kitchen had sent electricity zipping through him, and as guilty as he felt about having taken advantage of her like that, he couldn't help but remember just how soft and warm she'd been, pliant against him and tugging at his hair.

Charlie reached behind him and twisted the knob all the way to cold, hissing as the frigid water beat down on him. He would not have a wank in his parents' shower thinking about Hermione Granger, who was also in the house. He willed himself to think about anything other than her-Lavender's shrill laugh, Quidditch strategy, his great-great-aunt Muriel's chin hair.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, his erection flagged and Charlie sighed in frustration. He quickly washed himself, scrubbing his hair under the cold water and then emerging, wrapping himself in a towel and heading for his bedroom. He only hoped he wouldn't be late to dinner.

As he swung open the bathroom door, a surprised squeak greeted him and he looked down to see one Hermione Granger, her nose inches from his bare chest. Charlie's breath caught and he backed up swiftly. "Fuck-Hermione, I'm so sorry," he said, cursing himself internally. First he'd pinned her down and snogged her in the kitchen, and now he'd practically run her over coming out of the bathroom. How much worse could this get?

"No, no, I'm sorry," Hermione sputtered, not meeting his eyes. "I thought I'd heard the door already and I was just going to wash up for supper and if I'd known that you were still-"

"It's fine," Charlie interrupted, and Hermione backed out of the doorway, her head down and her hair obscuring her face from his view. "I, er-I'll be down in a few, yeah?" And with that, he scurried out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and burying his face in his hands. He dressed quickly and made his way downstairs, sliding into a seat at the table as Hermione emerged from the staircase as well.

Dinner was… awkward, to say the least. Charlie found himself pushing his food around on his plate, unable to look at anyone. The few glances he snuck at Hermione showed that she was doing the same, and a pang of guilt shot through him. He'd well and truly ruined her holiday, and he felt sick over it. It wasn't like him at all to treat a girl like this, especially one he'd known for so long and was so generally fond of. It only cemented his decision.

As awful as he was feeling, nobody else seemed to notice. The cacophony of a Weasley meal roared around him, voices shouting over one another and laughter ringing through the kitchen. If anyone noticed that he hardly ate, they didn't say anything. If anyone thought it was odd that he went straight to bed after supper, they didn't make mention. He slunk up the stairs and began to empty his dresser, carefully placing all of his clothes in his pack. As usual, there was hardly enough room. He hadn't gotten a chance to ask Hermione about that spell.

Once everything was packed and he was dressed for the weather, Charlie sat on the floor with his back leaning against his bed frame, waiting for the middle of the night so that he could steal away. In the meantime, he began to scribble a note to his Mum, hoping to find words that wouldn't upset her or make her think he hadn't wanted to be here.

Mum-

Something's come up and I have to go back to the reserve. I'm so, so sorry. I should have come home sooner, and I'm sorry that I didn't. I got everyone gifts and wrapped them, they're up in my bedroom. I didn't want to wake everyone putting them under the tree in the middle of the night. Give everyone my love.

-Charlie

He folded the parchment neatly, creasing it a few times with his blunt fingernails before casting a glance at the stack of wrapped gifts on his dresser. Charlie hoped that everyone would like their gifts, but he was especially interested in what Hermione would think of hers. A pang of sadness hit him in the chest when he thought of her opening it on Christmas morning—he'd never be able to see the look on her face when she saw it for the first time.

Oh well, he thought, standing and stretching before pulling his pack onto his back. He'd made his bed and now he had to lie in it.

Charlie tip-toed down the steps as quietly as he could in his boots. The house was silent and still, everyone asleep as it was the middle of the night. He crept toward the kitchen, scrap of parchment in his hand, and steeled himself for a quick drop of the note and exit from the house. He wasn't thrilled about the aspect of all this apparating, but he knew he needed to go.

He took a deep breath and stepped in the kitchen, only to be greeted by a smug freckled face and an arched eyebrow.