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One
Of all the people in her life, Charlie Weasley was an unexpected constant. It all started during 2nd year.
She was a mere 13-year-old girl on a midnight excursion to deliver a baby Norwegian Ridgeback to a group of dragon tamers. He was one of many, a tall (to her, at least) redhead who was more attractive than Professor Lockhart. He introduced himself and asked after his younger brother, who was stuck in the Hospital Wing with a bite from Norbert. She wished fervently that she could have asked him (and his friends) questions about dragons but it was a covert mission and she knew better.
That week, she found herself doodling hearts along her pieces of parchment, but instead of HG + GL, the letters became HG + CW.
Two
The summer before her 4th year was filled with new people and new experiences. Charlie came home to the Burrow to attend the Quidditch World Cup with his family. He mostly spent time with Bill and the twins, but every now and then, he’d laugh and answer questions from Hermione about the Sanctuary and the dragon youngling they’d delivered nearly two years prior.
They were in the same Box, of course, at the World Cup and she watched as he almost became another person, shouting and hollering with his siblings and Harry over the match. She remembered he’d once been Quidditch captain at Hogwarts and mentally catalogued that as a reason he was so fit. The thought made her blush.
After the match, when the Death Eaters came, he ran out with his father and fought and helped people to safety. Hermione inwardly swooned before she realised she needed to get herself to safety.
Charlie ended up staying at the Burrow for the rest of the summer, leaving to attend meetings he never spoke about at home. When he accompanied the trio of friends to the Hogwarts Express on the 1st of September, he winked at them and told them he’d see them soon.
They were confused.
That is, until the Triwizard Tournament was announced, and Hermione remembered Charlie’s parting words and his secret meetings. The boys hadn’t picked up on it yet, too angry at each other to think logically about anything. When they continued to use her as a messenger, she finally stood her ground and told them to leave her out of their quarrels, but then found herself on the edge of the forest in tears because boys were so stupid.
That’s where Charlie found her.
“Alright there, Hermione?”
Her head shot up at the familiar voice. “Charlie!”
He noticed her tear-stained face and immediately crouched next to the rock upon which she sat. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Boys are dumb.” Her hands shot to her mouth as her eyes widened, but Charlie only laughed.
“We can be, yes. Tell me, is it my little brother or Harry?”
The words came tumbling out, about Harry’s name coming out of the Goblet, Ron’s jealousy and refusal to believe Harry hadn’t done it himself, the way they were both using her like a personal owl. By the time she finished speaking, tears were starting to flow again, and she wiped them away angrily with the back of her hand.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Charlie asked. Hermione nodded. “We’re going to be dumb for a while.”
She laughed, not being able to help it.
“And when we figure out ourselves, we’re still going to do dumb things.” He reached out and chucked her chin. “Chin up, Hermione. They’ll figure it out and come back to apologize soon, I’m sure.”
He waited until she nodded at him, though he could see the disbelief on her face.
“So how about a distraction then, hmm? Want to meet some dragons?”
Three
There was a bit of a spark beginning between Hermione and Ron by the time Bill and Fleur were going to get married, but something often held her back from taking the final step. When she thought about it, the answer was simple enough - in fact, the answer was clear as day in the pile of parchment she kept in her trunk.
Letters, dozens of them, from Charlie Weasley.
It started after the Triwizard Tournament, when he’d offered her friendship in the midst of Ron and Harry fighting. It was innocent, of course it was, and he was happy to send her stories and anecdotes from the Sanctuary, while she often amused (and worried) him with tales of her adventures in her friendship trio. But recently, Hermione added a bit more of a flirtatious tone to some of her letters. It wasn’t something she was accustomed to, writing coy phrases meant to question her, but she couldn’t help it. His letters, so full of vibrancy and knowledge, spoke to her in a way that made her head spin and made it feel like butterflies were fluttering in her stomach.
She knew he would be back at The Burrow for the wedding, but he still caught her off-guard, first when he arrived just in time to help raise the tents, and then at the ceremony itself. He wore formal robes of a deep blue color and even from her seat a few rows back, Hermione could see his discomfort as he stood next to his brother. Then he caught her eye and sent her a wide grin that also made Harry turn to her with raised eyebrows.
Hermione looked for him at the reception. She heard him first.
“So, actually, your Norbert is, well, actually Norberta. ”
“A female?” It’s Hargrid’s awestruck voice. “Bless the little thing.”
Charlie’s laugh was loud, boisterous, infectious. “Well, not quite little anymore, Hagrid.”
They laughed together this time and then Charlie paused and excused himself. Within seconds, he stood in front of her, white teeth stark against his tan and freckled face.
“Miss Granger.” He bowed at her and held out a hand. “Might I request a dance?”
Before she could answer, a glowing orb shot into the tent to announce the death of the Minister of Magic and all mayhem broke loose.
Four
Being on the run and trying to stay alive for the next year meant being unable to correspond with Charlie. Instead, she wrote letters she would never send in her journal, thought perhaps he could read it one day. The horcrux wore on her mind; its whispers told her she was too young for him, that he could never be attracted to her. She never told the boys.
When she thought herself near death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, though, she shut her eyes and imagined his face, tanned from hours in the sun with his dragons, smiling at her. If that had been her last vision, perhaps it would have been an okay way to say farewell to the world she knew. But it hadn’t been and she swore to regain her strength as quickly as possible in the shelter of Shell Cottage.
“How long?” Bill asked her one night as she sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from Dumbledore in front of her. She looked up and tilted her head in question. “You and Charlie. How long?”
“What? I don’t… That’s… What?” Hermione was flustered. She’d never said anything to anyone, had kept her thoughts sequestered in her mind. Bill raised an eyebrow at her, and she sighed. “How did you know?”
He took a drink of water from his glass, longer than necessary really, before he set it down and leaned his hands back on the counter. He crossed one ankle over the other and smirked at her. “Well, it’s not every day my brother writes to me, even without a war happening. But when his questions all have to do with you and how you’re faring, well, it’s not hard to connect the dots.”
Hermione’s head spun with the new information. “He asks about me?”
“You’re surprised by this?”
“Charlie and I… We’re not… I thought it was just me.” She stared at Bill. “I thought it was just me.”
Bill’s face softened at the near-desperation in her tone. He gave her a small smile. “Look, I know what you three are planning and it’s dangerous. But for your sake - and for my brother’s sake - I hope it all goes well so you can both see that when it comes to the two of you? It’s not one-sided at all.”
Five
He came near the end of the battle, leading hundreds of people, with Horace Slughorn of all people. Witches, wizards, parents, relatives - they all followed Charlie Weasley at the 11th hour and helped take Hogwarts back from the Death Eaters. Hermione saw him enter the ruined Great Hall just as his mother threw a curse that ended Bellatrix Lestrange. He was in such a state of shock that a curse almost hit him until Hermione ran across the room, shouting his name, and sent a spell to shield him.
“Hermione!”
They collided into each other, Charlie only just able to keep them upright. He fanned his hands over her shoulders, tilted her face up.
“Charlie, I’m okay. I’m okay.”
They were both distracted by the seemingly sudden appearance of Harry and Voldemort circling each other. Hermione made to run toward them but Charlie held her back. She looked back at him, only to see him shaking his head at her. Instead, they - along with everyone still alive and present - watched the two wizards.
It seemed to take too long for anything to be done, to be said, and when Harry started yelling about love and redemption, Hermione’s nostrils flared and she whipped out a low, “Harry, no!” And then they both pointed their wands, there were bright lights, and when those faded, Voldemort was a corpse on the ground.
“It’s done,” Hermione whispered in shock. “He’s dead.”
All around her, Death Eaters tried to flee while Aurors and professors stopped as many as they could. Charlie turned her to face him again and he searched her face, for what, he wasn’t entirely sure.
“Hermione -”
“Charlie!” It was Bill, eyes wild and dirt tracked over his face, who ran up to them.
Immediately, Charlie was on alert. He and Bill had always been close, could read each other perfectly. “What? What’s happened?”
“Charlie, it’s… Fred.”
Hermione’s heart dropped. She’d forgotten, in the chaos, that the Weasley family had lost a member today. She squeezed Charlie’s hand and made to let go but he only held on tighter.
“What about Fred?” He said the words slowly, like he knew what was coming, but didn’t want it confirmed.
Bill reached out and laid a hand on the side of his brother’s neck. He stared at him, lines of tension on his face. Without another word, Charlie let out a strangled sound, a wretched sound that Hermione would remember for years to come.
And still, he refused to let go of her hand.
Six
Hermione followed Charlie up the final peak of the mountains. He’d told her apparating often spooked any dragons in the area so they had to hike in the end. That was fine; after all, he’d promised her a surprise she would love. Just as they reached a flat expanse that had a cliff hanging over it, a loud screech filled the air. Charlie grabbed Hermione and tucked them both under the overhang, his hand sliding over her waist to rest on her stomach. He pressed her closer to his body.
“You know, if you wanted to be this close to me, I would have said yes to your cabin,” she teased him.
“Hush, witch,” he said fondly. “We’ll have time for that later. For now, look.”
He nudged her head to look out to the clear skies where a large dragon was circling. Under the bright sun, Hermione could see that its scales shifted from black to brown. When it swooped closer, she could see ridges along its back.
“Remember her?”
With a gasp, Hermione turned her head to look at Charlie, who only just managed to rear back so their foreheads didn’t crash. Hermione barely noticed, too excited at who she was seeing.
“Is that really -”
“You knew her as Norbert, yes, but she’s since been renamed -”
“Norberta.” Charlie frowned in confusion. “I overheard you at Bill’s wedding, when you told Hagrid. My god, is that really her now?”
Charlie laughed because of course she already knew. “That’s really her. She’s a bit more ferocious now that she’s an adult.” He gave her a lopsided smile, his eyes crinkling with the motion. “And nesting.”
A gasp escaped Hermione’s lips before she covered them with both hands. Slowly, her hands slid down past her chin where she curled them into fists that she rested against Charlie’s chest. He was still grinning at her, happy that he’d been able to give her this moment.
“So that makes two of us then?”