Snogging at the Burrow

Chapter 37

Hermione exited the tent.  Ron was finally better from the splinching upon disapparating from the ministry.  She found Harry at the base of a tree within the wards they had set, fiddling with the locket. 

"How is he?" Harry asked as she took a seat next to him.

"Fine.  I've become quite efficient in healing charms." She mused. 

Harry noticed the glumness to her voice.  She was starring ahead, at nothing in particular.  "You miss him don't you?" 

Hermione looked to her lap. "You mean Charlie?" She inhaled. "It's hardly been a week.  I will manage just fine." 

Harry did not believe her, but her stubbornness would not waver, so he dropped the matter.  The next few days and nights were rather depressing.  Ron hardly said a thing. Ginny spent her time with Harry, or practicing a few spells and charms.  And Hermione always looked as though she were in a daydream, half awake, half asleep.

"I suppose I'm jealous of him." Ron scoffed, with a hint of sarcastic amusement to his voice. 

Hermione was watching Harry and Ginny across the tent.  They were sitting at a table, both managing to smile at some teasing joke.  She swiveled her head, realizing Ron had said something.  "What?" 

"I'm jealous of Charlie.  He has everything I've always wanted." 

Hermione didn't know how to respond.  He said it sincerely, and not necessarily out of spite.  "Oh Ron."

"Quidditch Captain, Prefect, a relationship that's perfect." 

"You were prefect." She added. 

"You know that's not what I mean."  He said.  "But I'm glad it's him.  We don't really go well Hermione, romantically." 

"Ron, you are amazing you know.  Brilliant really." She said, and they both smiled at this.  She held out her hand tentatively. He pressed his palm to hers, and they laced their fingers.  "I'm here Ron.  I'll always be here." 

He looked from their hands to her eyes.  She looked as though she were to cry.  "I know." He spoke, but then pulled his hand from her grasp and left the tent.

She found herself breathing out, attempting not to cry. Since when had Ronald Weasley grown so mature? And then Charlie still stuck in her head. Charlie Weasley. Her heart ached. It was despicable really. How she had managed to not only harbor some stupid crush, but catch feelings and fall in love. Mental. If she had told herself she would be capable of falling in love so fast, she would have charmed herself incapable.

How was she to last till Wars end without him. She wondered if she had made a mistake in abandoning him. Although she knew she would not accomplish what she needed if he were by her side. As much as she tried to convince herself in dreams that the two of them would make an epic duo fighting deatheaters and destroying Horcruxes, he would not allow it. He was protective. If it meant she was in harm, he would do everything in his possibility to keep her safe. So now she had to figure how to forget Charlie Weasley.

It was not any easy task. She remembered their first outings at Diagon Alley. How over the holidays they fell for each other. They had spent time playing footsies, baking cookies, passing in the hallway on the way to the loo, ending up in closets together, snogging. Those moments she held with her at Hogwarts. Those moments came flooding back at Bills wedding. Those moments tortured her currently, for they were memories.

She drifted to a time where they had decided to ride the cart system at Gringotts. When they had got off, their hearts were pounding with adrenaline. He had lifted her out of the cart into the ledge beside him, his fingers claiming her own hand, and pulling her to the side of him as they walked. His hand was warm. She could feel his breathing beside her, steady yet excited. They turned a corner, and she had tugged on his arm. He came to a stop, eyes searching the reason behind her behavior. He looked down at her, eyes strong. They had kissed then, her back against a cave wall of Gringotts, his thumb pressed to her neck gently.

But she couldn't remember the feeling. She didn't remember how his lips felt. The image was blurry, and it screamed inside her skull that it was no longer.

"Gringotts." She spoke aloud. Her eyes snapped from their daze, lifting to fall on Harry. "What if there was a Horcrux in Gringotts?" No one was paying her any attention, but she grabbed a quill and jotted it down in her notes.

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"They've increased security." Bill said.

The two brothers sat in the small kitchen of the shell cottage. It had been two weeks since the break in of the ministry. Matters were worsening. Charlie has spent his time in Romania, but frequently checked in with Bill. "At Gringotts?" He questioned, pressing the bottle of fire whiskey to his lips.

"Yes. The Dragons are chained in the deeper levels. Employees staged around every corner. I prefer not to attend work anymore."

Charlie shook his head. "Chain Dragons. They're likely to tear your arm off if denied to fly."

Bill stared at his brother, who was gazing absently at a spot on the table, the bottle half drunk. "They must be alive." Bill added.

"Who?" He said, taking another sip.

"Ron, Ginny, Harry-Hermione." He repeated attempting to draw his brother from his daze.

"William?" Fleur called, she stopped halfway down the stairs to the upper level. She whipped her hair over her shoulder, looking upon the figure of her husbands brother sitting raise him. "I've had ze letter from Fantane."

Bill stood up, moved over to Fleur, and took the letter quietly. The two of them returned their attention to Charlie.

"What is it? Did somebody die?" He chortled sarcastically. He saw the seriousness of their expressions. "What?" He said again, mouth turning flat.

"Ron's home." Bill spoke.

Charlie sat still, terrified to speak more. Terrified to inquire if any others had returned. They hadn't. If they had, Bill would have adressed it. Why would Ron return home without the others? Something had happened. And he couldn't bear to hear what. He dug his fingers into his thigh, eyes almost stinging at the pain he had afeared. He stood up abruptly and left the shell cottage. 

Fleur looked to Bill with worry.  "Oh William!" She cried, throwing her arms around his neck.  She placed her cheek to his chest, finding comfort in his worn clothing.  She was used to a lavish lifestyle, an frivolous upbringing; and yet now, the breathe of her husband seemed the entire world. 

He ran his fingers through her hair, kissing her temple.  "They are alright.  We Will stop over at the Burrow, to see if Ron has returned there." 

She pulled away her face more pale then its usual fairness.  "I'm afraid of death. If thez haven't survived-"

"My love, all will be well."  He whispered, and then left to retrieve Charlie from the waters edge outside the cottage.  "You're worrying her!"  He shouted at his brother. 

Charlie turned to look at Bill, his hair flying from the wind in his face, as well as his faded white shirt.  "It's war Bill.  It tis not I that worries her.  It's you."  He threw the bottle into the water with force.  "She worries you will not return.  She worries one day you will be gone, and she'll have to wonder every night if the next name will be yours." 

"Our brother is home.  We must check on-"

"Why?!" Charlie shouted.  "To see our sister not there with him.  To wonder if our sister was captured by snatchers.  Or Harry. Or-".

He held his fist to his mouth suddenly.  "How could you sleep at night without her here?  How could you go about, knowing she could be dead, could be tortured while you sat idle?!" 

"I couldn't Charlie!" Bill shouted at his brother. "Yet I've imagined."  He extended his hand. 

Charlie looked to it, and not knowing what else to do, gripped it and was sucked away.