Chapter Text
There are some people that become a lingering question mark, an unexplored possibility, and Charlie Weasley was Hermione’s. Seven years older and far away on the dragon reserve in Romania, he’d been completely unattainable. A figure to wander into her daydreams from time to time. The ruggedly handsome older brother of her friend
Until after the war.
Charlie took a sabbatical and came home. He wanted to help while Fred recovered from his near death experience. He wanted to help his parents fix up The Burrow, which suffered neglect while the family stayed safe at Aunt Muriel’s. He wanted to help rebuild Hogwarts, the school he loved so much.
And while Charlie helped a friendship took root between he and Hermione. They discovered they shared a passion for books, for the fair treatment of all Magical Creatures, for beautiful music, for starry skies, and for helping others with their skill and experience. Of all the Weasley children, it turned out that Charlie with whom Hermione shared the most in common. Charlie was the one she could talk to for hours and never once feel frustrated or silly. Charlie was the one she understood, and the one who understood her.
Although the chemistry between them was palpable, neither one ever made a move to close the gap between friends and something more. There were lingering glances, tender hugs, and moments where the tension tautened so sharply that Hermione was sure this time one of them would move, or speak. But the moment always passed, and neither one of them had done a thing.
Then, Charlie’s sabbatical was over. He returned to Romania and his dragons. Hermione moved on. She completed an eighth year at Hogwarts so she could take her NEWTs. Then, she took a job with the Ministry. She worked tirelessly on fixing the things she didn’t like in the wizarding world. She did not apply to work on the dragon reserve in Romania, however much she wanted to. The best way for her to help was to stay in Britain and read, write, and argue as best she could.
And after ten years had come and gone, Minerva McGonogall offered her a job at Hogwarts teaching History of Magic. Before long, Harry had come on as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Ron took over running the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes branch in Hogsmeade. On frosty nights when the trio gathered in The Three Broomsticks it often felt like old times.
Except Ron went home to Luna and their children. Harry had Ginny and a little cottage on the expansive grounds of Hogwarts. And Hermione was left alone with her lingering question marks.
What if she and Ron had stayed together longer than a month after the war? What if they’d tried harder? What if she had ever let herself feel romantically about Harry, instead of just responsible?
And, the questions that really kept her up at night:what if she had ever told Charlie how she felt? What if she had just grabbed him by the collar and kissed his perfect lips? What if he had stayed? What if she had gone to Romania to work with dragons, like she’d secretly wanted to?
Then, in the spring just before the end of the school year, Hagrid announced he was retiring. He’d stay on the grounds as gamekeeper to train someone new, but the teaching post needed to be filled right away. He disappeared for a month, and when he returned he triumphantly and tearfully declared that none but Charlie Weasley was taking his place.
Charlie.
Charlie?