Third Person Narrative: (A/N: finally fixing the POV after 80 parts... yikes)
The intermittent days between Christmas and New Year's Eve passed by peacefully enough. Reports of attacks had, thankfully, dwindled, as if even Voldemort and his followers had decided to take a holiday, albeit Charlie knew they were most likely just preparing for an even greater onslaught of killings in the weeks to come.
Having kept his word, Charlie wrote various letters to Harry over the holiday break, informing his best friend about the recent pain flaring in his forearm. In return, Harry kept him up to date on all things happening at the Burrow. Their letters, however, failed to divulge too much, given the fact that the Ministry was vigorously checking all of their post.
The holidays were a quiet affair. Charlie and Hermione had re-established an untouchable feeling of affection in each other's company. They had made the most of their time alone, spending the days rekindling the intimacy of their relationship. Abiding by Hermione's request, however, they refused to rush anything between them, opting for a kiss or cuddle whenever necessary, but restraining from anything more intimate than that.
Often times, they'd occupy themselves during the afternoons by visiting Hagrid or listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs. Weasley's favourite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. By the time they welcomed the New Year, Charlie and Hermione had shared a multitude of kisses as the clock struck twelve and ended the night just like every other, entangled and cuddled up close in each other's arms.
A few days after the New Year, Charlie and Hermione trudged their way reluctantly down to Hagrid's Hut for their daily afternoon cuppa. It was the last day of the holidays, mind you, and all classes would be resuming bright and early the next morning. Although chuffed to be reunited with his closest friends, Charlie couldn't help but feel saddened by the fact that his time alone with Hermione was about to meet its conclusion.
He had struggled to get out of bed that morning, trying his damnedest to slow the time down. His hesitance was ultimately reflected upon Hermione as well, who had fallen victim to his kisses of persuasion that kept her in bed for the greater part of the morning. After hours of secluding themselves in the comfort of Charlie's dorm room, the two lovesick Gryffindors were inevitably forced to start the day, given their rising hunger levels after having missed breakfast.
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Having taken less that twenty minutes to get ready for the day, Charlie met Hermione at the portrait hole before setting off. The snowfall became less and less significant as they moved from December to January, but there was still a bitter chill in the air. Their visit with Hagrid went as it always did: they had spent hours being updated on any encounters the half-giant had had with magical creatures since they had seen him last, and even though Hagrid's rock-cakes were barely considered edible, Charlie found that he had devoured two of them by the time their visit reached its end.
