Something of a sooner update this time! I was feeling inspired and have the rest of the story laid out so I was able to get another chapter done. Thank you so much for all the reviews on this story! I'm so super glad you're all enjoying it. I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think!
If anyone had noticed Hermione's absence that night, they didn't mention it–not the next day or any of the subsequent ones. Charlie reckoned that Ginny wasn't missing Hermione much, anyway. Her absence meant that Harry could sneak down from the attic after bed, which also meant that Lavender could go up to the attic with Ron, so no one was asking any questions. Charlie wasn't complaining, either–it meant that he got to wake up morning after morning with his face tucked into her sweet-smelling curls, her warm skin bare beneath his splayed hands, her body pulled tight against his.
It dawned on him this particular morning that, as it was New Year's Eve, he was literally starting off his last day of this year with Hermione in his arms. He wanted to start next year this way, and every day of next year, and every year after that–his heart ached at the thought. Holidays would be over soon and he'd be back at the Reserve, alone in his bed, and he couldn't bear to think of it. Not now, with Hermione stirring, arching her back gracefully and pressing her delicious arse against his morning erection.
Charlie's hand gripped her hip as he groaned, his voice still hoarse with sleepiness, and then bit out a harsh-sounding swear in Romanian. Hermione giggled softly, barely awake, and pulled his hand up to cup her bare breast instead.
Fuck coffee, he thought as he squeezed it softly and the sound she made traveled straight to his cock. This is better.
Eventually, though, they did make it down to the kitchen for their little morning ritual of coffee, banter, and sneaky kisses. Somehow the coffee tasted even better on Hermione's lips.
"I want to spend the day with you," Charlie found himself saying as he finished the last of his coffee. "I mean, just with you. As much as I'm happy to be around everyone else, I…"
Hermione's bright smile and shining eyes had him trailing off, half in awe of her. "Really?" she asked, looking so excited that he was almost worried he'd disappoint her.
He nodded slowly, smiling a bit himself. "Yeah, really. Just the two of us. Before… well." He cleared his throat and flushed–holidays being over was the last thing he wanted to discuss right now. "I thought that maybe… you'd let me take you flying."
Her smile faltered and she seemed to pale slightly, her brows furrowing. "Charlie, I don't know…" she started, but he swiftly interrupted her.
"I'm excellent on a broom," Charlie reassured her, reaching out and taking her free hand in both of his. "I'm not going to let you get hurt, Hermione, I would never. Who do you think taught Gin to fly, anyway?"
Hermione nibbled her bottom lip, looking for a moment like she was thinking very hard, and then swallowed hard and nodded her head once.
"Okay," she breathed. "We can try."
Charlie nearly blinded her with his grin and he kissed her, jumping up from his chair. "I'll go get dressed. See you back down here in fifteen minutes?"
He returned to the kitchen first. The mugs had been moved to the sink, presumably after Hermione had finished her coffee, and he quickly washed them and tucked them into the cabinet. Pushed slightly toward the back of the cabinet sat Hermione's chipped mug. She hadn't used it since Christmas Eve, now that she had the new one from Charlie, but it reminded him of the moment he'd walked into the Burrow's kitchen that first night to find her perched on the counter silhouetted by the setting sun, and he was suddenly so overcome with emotion that he grabbed the mug out of the cabinet and dashed back upstairs to tuck it into his bag. He wanted a piece of her to take back to the Reserve with him.
As Charlie descended, he saw Hermione a few steps ahead of him and he sped down the stairs, catching her by surprise at the bottom and making her gasp as he wrapped his arms around her. She was dressed for the weather in her jacket and jeans and boots, a knit cap pulled down over her bushy hair, and she looked so goddamn adorable that he just had to kiss her when she spun around to face him.
"Excited?" he breathed against her lips, and she chuckled.
"Terrified," Hermione responded softly, and Charlie chuckled, too.
"I promise I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe with me, Hermione." Charlie looked into her eyes earnestly and she searched his for a moment before taking a deep breath and nodding.
"I know," she said softly, a bit of a smile emerging on her lips.
"Brilliant. Let's go."
It was still early when he led her out into the snow to the broom shed, carefully selecting the most reliable broom they had at the house. Charlie closed the shed again and walked out into the yard, beckoning Hermione closer as he mounted the broom.
"Come here," he said, laughing softly as she took tentative steps toward him.
"It's been ages since I've been on a broom," she warned him. "And I never was any good at flying."
"It's okay," he said, holding his hand out to her. "I've got you."
Hermione just nodded again, seeming to steel herself before taking his hand and mounting the broom, standing in front of him. Charlie leaned forward, curling his hands around the broom handle and pressing himself against her back. "I can feel your heart pounding," he murmured into her ear, and she shivered and leaned her head back just a bit. Now his heart was pounding, too.
"Are you ready?" he said softly, tightening his grip. She nodded, once, sharply. "Okay. Here we go."
Charlie kicked off as gently as he could, the broom rising into the air and making Hermione gasp with surprise. She grabbed his forearms, gripping them tightly with her fingers, and he tightened his arms around her just a bit. "I've got you," he repeated. "It's okay."
"I know," Hermione said shakily, taking a slow breath. "I know."
"I won't move until you're ready," he said, reassuring her. "Just let yourself adjust for a second."
A few deep breaths later, with Charlie holding perfectly still, and Hermione seemed to relax a little bit. "Okay," she breathed. "I think I'm ready. Just… slowly, please."
He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Slowly. Got it." And, true to his word, Charlie eased the broom forward just a little.
Hermione laughed. "Okay, I–I didn't actually know a broom could move this slowly," she said, shaking her head. "Every time Ronald tried to take me flying he'd just… I don't know, take off? Like he was trying to show off how fast he could go or something. I just assumed that brooms started off fast like that."
"Ron is an idiot sometimes," he chided, slightly annoyed with his baby brother. It was just like Ron to show off like that, to think he was being funny.
Hermione nearly snorted at that. "Trust me, I know," she agreed, still chuckling. "But I meant that you can go a bit faster than this."
Charlie nodded. "Make sure you're holding on," he reminded her, although he had her held firmly against him, her back pressed to his chest and her arse nestled between his thighs. The air smelled crisp and clean and mingled with the scent of her shampoo and made him giddy. He leaned forward, urging the broom onward just a bit more, and they took off at a decent speed away from the house and the yard, into the fields surrounding the Burrow.
He was intimately familiar with these fields and forests, having spent so much of his childhood exploring them alone, and he flew easily through the trees and steered the broom smoothly and gently. He took care not to go too fast, making his leisurely way so that Hermione could take in the scenery without harsh wind in her face. He wanted her to enjoy flying, to feel the adrenaline pumping in her veins–not from fear, but from excitement. The ring of her laughter in his ears was enough to reassure him.
"Having fun?" he asked her, and she laughed again.
"Actually, yes," Hermione responded, still holding on to his forearms but not gripping them nearly as tightly as before. The sun was warm on their faces despite the chill in the air, and the snow sparkled beneath them as they flew by. "It's beautiful out here."
"I used to come out here all the time as a kid," Charlie told her, more softly. "I could probably make my way through these woods in my sleep. I'd wander around all day long, until it was almost too dark to see. Drove Mum crazy."
"I'll bet it did," she agreed playfully, and he laughed, a silent pause stretching between them as his laughter faded. Suddenly, he had an idea.
"Hermione, I… I want to show you something," Charlie said, breaking the silence and turning the broom sharply to the right, flying into a slightly thicker area of trees.
They flew in comfortable silence for a few minutes as he followed the familiar path deeper into the woods. Just when it seemed like they would soon be completely in the shadow of the trees around them, they flew directly into a little clearing where the sun was shining down on the fresh snow. Charlie landed the broom softly in the center and helped Hermione off of it, laying the broom on the ground and flexing his fingers.
Hermione spun on the spot, looking around her with a bright smile on her face. Her nose and cheeks were rosy from the cold but her eyes were sparkling and for a moment he was awestruck, breathless. Fuck, she was beautiful.
"Beautiful," she whispered, echoing his own thoughts back to him, although he assumed she was talking about the little clearing they stood in.
"I used to come here a lot," he said, quietly, drawing nearer to Hermione. "When I was a kid. This was my, like… I don't know, my own little secret place that no one knew about. Nobody could ever seem to find me here. When I got older I'd put wards up and all, but even when I was too young for school… nobody but me has ever been here."
"Nobody?" Hermione asked, and he heard the rest of the question although she didn't say it.
"Nobody," he breathed, stepping even closer to her. "I have never, ever brought anyone here. Only you."
She leaned up then and pressed her cold lips against his, her chilled fingers trailing up his neck and making him shiver. His hands found her waist as his body responded to her, melting against her as she kissed him so sweetly in one of his favorite places in the world.
Charlie didn't know what was happening to him. The way Hermione was somehow managing to soften all of his rough edges was beyond his comprehension, but he felt some kind of emotion swelling in his chest. He kissed her thoroughly, taking his time exploring her mouth with his, until the sudden crunch of footsteps in the snow startled them apart.
"I thought you said–" Hermione whispered harshly, whipping her head toward the sound. A grin broke over Charlie's face as he looked over her shoulder.
"I lied, a little bit," he said, kneeling in the snow and reaching into his pocket. "There is someone who always finds me here."
Three deer walked into the clearing, two smaller and one slightly larger, and Hermione froze in place, clearly worried she'd scare them off.
Charlie, however, didn't even flinch as they approached. He pulled his wand out of the holster strapped to his thigh and glanced her way, smiling at the look in her eyes when she noticed he was wearing it. He opened his other hands to reveal a handful of tiny apples, clearly having shrunk them down to fit in his pocket, and with a wave of his wand he had a small pile of apples in the snow in front of him.
The deer approached him where he knelt and Charlie picked up an apple, offering it to one of the smaller deer, who looked at the larger one before tentatively coming closer to eat right out of his outstretched hand. He laughed, pleased, and patted the little creature on the head.
"Come here and feed them if you like," he said, turning to where she stood uncomfortably still beside him. "They're quite friendly."
Hermione slowly made her way toward him and knelt beside him, even more tentative than the wild animals before them. She picked up an apple and stretched out her hand slowly, offering it to the other small deer, who began to munch on it happily. "How…?" she breathed in disbelief.
"I have a way with animals, I suppose," he said merrily, picking up another apple and offering it to the larger deer in the middle. "Always have. Obviously these aren't the same deer as when I was a kid, but I'm pretty sure whatever deer I first started seeing here brought their babies, and then their babies, and so on until… these little guys."
Charlie scratched the small one behind the ear affectionately and began to feed him another apple. "I always make sure to bring a snack for them, just in case."
Hermione was silent, so Charlie looked over to find her staring at him with a look in her eyes that he couldn't quite read. He flushed, sure that his cheeks had gone even rosier than they'd already been, and averted his gaze. "Do you like them?"
"They're brilliant," Hermione said, finally smiling and reaching out to pet the little deer she was feeding on the head.
They stayed in the clearing for a little while, feeding apples to the deer and just enjoying each other's company and the brisk air of a fresh snowfall. When the apples were gone and the deer had trotted back into the cover of the trees with full bellies, Charlie stood and dusted the snow from his knees before offering his hand to Hermione to help her up.
When she stood, he tugged on her hand so that she stumbled into him. Charlie caught her against his chest and she beamed up at him.
"Thank you for bringing me here," she said, softly, and he kissed her in response.
When they got back to the Burrow it was early evening, Charlie having taken a roundabout way home to show Hermione a few of his favorite views. They touched down at the Burrow just as the sun was setting and Charlie put the broom away while Hermione snuck into the chaos of the kitchen. He waited a bit and then snuck in himself, ducking under Ron's arm as he swung a casserole dish toward the table. Charlie grabbed the next one himself and fell into the hustle and bustle of Molly Weasley's kitchen as if he'd been there all afternoon.
Dinner was loud and chaotic as usual, the excitement for New Year's Eve buzzing in the air. George and Angelina and Ron were chattering on about when the shop would re-open after the holidays, Harry and Ginny and Hermione were deep in a conversation that he only caught bits and pieces of, Lavender was cooing at Victoire, who was being bounced on Bill's knee as he murmured in Fleur's ear–something about a leak in the roof at the cottage, Arthur was chiming in to every conversation in turn, and Molly was flitting about, making sure that everyone's plates were refilled as needed and sneaking bites of her own in between.
Something hollowed in Charlie's chest then as he took everything in–the sounds and smells and the warmth of this kitchen with everyone in it–and he suddenly realized how much he was going to miss home when he went back to Romania. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted to put it in his pocket and pull it out on lonely nights. Fuck, he hadn't realized that coming home again would make him remember what homesickness felt like again. He'd compartmentalized that feeling a long time ago, but now it was new and fresh and it hurt.
When dinner was over and the dishes were being cleaned–by Ron and Lavender tonight, no less–Charlie went looking for Hermione, only to find that she wasn't downstairs.
"She and Gin went upstairs to get ready for tonight," Harry called toward Charlie, noticing how he was standing in the middle of the living room looking lost. "I don't know what that means because we're not going anywhere or anything, but when I asked, Ginny just rolled her eyes at me and dragged Hermione upstairs anyway."
"Your guess is as good as mine," Charlie responded, sitting in the armchair that was beside Harry's and pouring himself some whiskey from the bottle that sat on the table between them. He assumed that this seat was being saved for Ron, but by the way Lavender was giggling and the water was splashing he figured that would be a little while yet.
"So," Harry said casually, sipping at his own glass of whiskey. "Gin filled me in."
Charlie froze and met Harry's eyes. "Uh."
"I haven't told anyone, and I don't plan to. Gin just thought I should know since Hermione is my best friend and all." Harry laughed. "I'm not going to give you the like, big brother lecture or whatever, as long as you don't give one to me, either."
That made Charlie laugh, too. "No, I figured you got it from at least one of the others," he said, relaxing back into the chair and sipping at his glass. The whiskey burned pleasantly on the way down.
"You're better for her than Ron was," Harry mused, swirling his glass and watching the ice cubes in it clink against the sides. "And obviously, things worked out for him, with Lavender and all." Charlie could even hear a tiny bit of iciness in Harry's tone when he said her name–he clearly didn't like her much, either.
"But," Harry continued, pulling Charlie out of his own thoughts. "I don't think Ron's going to be particularly thrilled when he finds out."
Charlie nodded. "I know," he said. "I don't–we haven't even talked about it all. Like… what happens next. If anything does. Maybe there's nothing for Ron to even know."
Harry smiled. "Oh, there is," he said, seeming very sure of himself. "I probably know Hermione better than anyone, trust me."
Another sip of whiskey allowed Charlie the time to process what Harry had said and how it had set his heart pounding in his chest. To have the reassurance and the acceptance from Harry meant a lot, almost as much as reassurance from Hermione herself, and although he and Harry had never been especially close, he felt close to him in that moment.
"I hope you're ready to have five brothers," Charlie said, breaking the tension with a joke that made them both laugh quietly. Neither of them mentioned how it should have been six, but they sipped their whiskey amid comfortable casual conversation about Quidditch.
Ron finally emerged from the kitchen, soaked from head to toe with a giggling Lavender at his heels, and Charlie took that as his cue to exit. He pushed himself up from the chair and made his way up to his room, lamenting the fact that tonight was the last night he'd fall asleep with Hermione in his bed. He could smell her in her, the scent of her lingering in the air in his bedroom, and he was willing to bet that his sheets and pillow smelled like her, too. Maybe his clothes would still smell like her when he unpacked at the Reserve in a few days.
The thought of it made him a little dizzy so he steeled himself, changed out of the clothes he'd been flying around in all day, and made his way back down to the living room.
In true Weasley holiday fashion, the night provided plenty of alcohol and snack foods and raucous conversation. Charlie barely paid attention to any of it, though–he was too busy longing to be close to Hermione, to have her tucked against his side the way Ginny stood by Harry or Lavender stood by Ron. He wanted to have his arm around her waist and her head resting at his shoulder, her soft skin under his fingertips, her little chuckles right in his ear–the simple closeness of her.
Finally, he managed to take advantage of the chaos and pulled her toward the corner of the room. Her bushy hair was charmed into sleeker, smoother curls and she was wearing just a little bit of makeup. Ginny had clearly gotten ahold of her and Hermione flushed under his gaze.
"You can't look at me like that," she muttered, trying to hide her smile as she chided him.
"I like looking at you," Charlie teased, and she smacked him playfully on the arm. "You look beautiful. You are beautiful."
"Thank you," Hermione murmured, smiling shyly up at him.
"I had so much fun today," he said earnestly, his voice softer.
"I did, too," she responded, her smile broadening. "More fun than I expected to. I didn't think I would like it, but… flying with you is different. You can take me flying any time you like."
"Yeah? Any time I like?" Charlie heard the breathiness of his own voice, the awe in his tone, and he knew it was because, with that one little phrase, Hermione had opened up the possibility of some kind of future. It was more than he'd dared to let himself hope for.
Hermione blushed again, looking down at her feet before meeting his eyes again, still smiling. "Yes, any time you like," she repeated, and Charlie's world turned on the spot and time slowed around him. Vaguely, in the room, he heard the echoing of voices counting down the seconds to midnight.
"Ten!"
The number reverberated around him over his heart beating in his ears.
"Nine!"
Charlie swallowed thickly, his eyes locking onto Hermione's.
"Eight!"
Emotion swelled in his chest almost painfully, pushing its way up from the core of him.
"Seven!"
He stepped forward, his feet moving of their own accord before he even realized they were doing it.
"Six!"
Charlie looked at Hermione, opening his mouth to say something to her, the words dying on his tongue before his brain could catch up.
"Five!"
His breathing quickened, his senses dulled by everything but her, his vision tunneling until all he could see was Hermione's face before him.
"Four!"
Charlie's gaze followed her tongue as it darted out between her parted lips as she looked up at him, a depth of emotion in her eyes that he couldn't decipher.
"Three!"
Charlie moved imperceptibly forward and Hermione tensed slightly. He felt like he could hear her heart beating, too.
"Two!"
Her eyes fell closed and her nostrils flared. She inhaled sharply through her nose.
"One!"
And then, in a flash, his lips were on hers and she sighed and melted against him for just a moment, until–
"Happy New–"
"Year!" Lavender finished, all on her own, for the rest of the Weasleys had fallen silent.
Hermione shoved Charlie away almost violently and he froze, turning toward his family, who were all looking directly at him and Hermione. He scanned their faces, mostly confused–save for Ginny and Harry, who both looked pleased, and Ron, who looked angrier than Charlie had ever seen him.
He spun toward Hermione, who was also frozen in shock. After a moment she looked at the Weasleys, made a sound that tore itself through Charlie's heart, and then ran from the room with her face buried in her hands.
"Uh," Charlie faltered, running his hand through his hair nervously. "I, um. I think I'm off to bed, yeah? Er… night, everyone."
And they began to murmur amongst themselves as he climbed the stairs and made his way to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.
Fuck.
Charlie slammed his hands down on his dresser in frustration, looking at himself in the mirror that hung on the wall. He couldn't believe his absolute stupidity–he'd just kissed her in front of his whole family after she'd asked him to keep it a secret. They hadn't even talked about what would happen after the holidays were over, not really, and now he'd gone and fucked it all up and he'd never been angrier at himself.
He paced the room for a bit, hoping desperately that Hermione would come to his door. After a while, people started to make their way to bed a few at a time, and each time he heard footsteps in the hall his heart would quicken as he listened for her voice, for a little knock. It never came.
Much later, the last few people went to bed. Charlie heard Ronald stumbling in the hallway, his voice much louder than a calmer Harry's. He couldn't quite hear what Ron was shouting about, but he heard Harry trying to get him to relax, and he heard snippets of "your ex" and "Lavender" and "he's your brother, Ron." Charlie tried to block it out as they made their way past his door and on up toward the attic.
Suddenly, Charlie could hear Ron shouting loudly above him and Hermione shouting back, her voice raw like she'd been crying. He darted for his door and grabbed at the knob to throw it open and run upstairs, but caught himself. Hermione probably didn't want him up there. He'd done enough. Harry could handle Ron and Ginny could help Hermione and he was sure that he'd only make things worse by going up there.
He grabbed his wand, cast a few charms so that he couldn't hear the yelling, and crawled into bed, pretending that the smell of Hermione's hair on his sheets was because she was there next to him. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.
When Charlie woke in the morning, he practically ran downstairs after stopping by the loo. The kitchen was cold and empty, but he set himself to making the coffee anyway. He flung open the cabinet, relieved to find her new mug right where he'd left it the day before. He busied himself with fixing their coffee, her sugar and her little splash of cream, and sat in his usual spot to wait for her.
After what seemed like ages, long after his coffee was finished and hers had gone mostly cold, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Charlie's heart leapt and he almost stood up out of his chair in excitement when Ginny suddenly came into view.
"Where's Hermione?" Charlie asked. "Is she okay? I–"
"She left," Ginny said, matter-of-factly, cutting Charlie off mid-sentence. "Last night, after Ron came into our room."
"She… she left?" He could feel the pain shoot right through his chest. She was gone. He wasn't even going to get to talk to her before he went back to Romania. Charlie didn't hear what Ginny said next, and he didn't hear the conversation at breakfast or lunch, and he barely heard what anyone said to him after he'd packed his things and was hugging his family goodbye. His heart ached and his mind was racing with all the ways he'd fucked up since he'd come back home and all he wanted was to take the portkey back to Romania and forget any of this had ever happened.
This time, he didn't feel the can slice his fingers, but he saw the blood on the snow just the same. Dejected, he wrapped his hand in the same bloody t-shirt that he'd used the first time, trudged to his cabin, dropped his bag and toed off his boots at the door, and crawled into his bed.
He laid there in his cold bed that didn't smell of Hermione, in a dark and quiet cabin that wasn't bustling with Weasleys, alone with nothing but the ache in his chest and images of Hermione in his head.
Somehow, eventually, he drifted off to sleep.