CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

Third Person P.O.V.:

"P-Professor Umbridge," began Hermione nervously, her cheeks flustered with embarrassment, "Charlie and I were—"

"In strict violation of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five," interjected Umbridge, looking stern as she crossed her arms. "Which, I may remind you, forbids boys and girls from being within six inches of one another."

Charlie sighed, muttering under his breath, "That's just completely absurd."

Apparently, however, Charlie wasn't being as discrete as he had imagined. In fact, his comment made Umbridge snap her head towards him, a wicked smile curling onto her lips instantly.

"Nothing is more absurd than your blatant dishonesty, Mr. Hawthorne," said Umbridge sweetly, although there was a underlying tone of viciousness. "Surely, you haven't forgotten about our conversation in my office yesterday afternoon..."

Charlie said nothing in rebuttal for he had been left speechless. His recollection of his encounter with Umbridge was something he wished would have never been brought up in front of Hermione. There was too much to explain and he knew his girlfriend would be heartbroken with this revelation, especially after such an intimate moment that the two had shared in the Astronomy Tower. Despite his horror, Umbridge took Charlie's silence as a victorious moment that needed to be relished in.

"As I recall, my dear boy," she began, her lips pursing as she shifted her gaze between the two guilty Gryffindors, "you affirmed that your relationship with Miss Granger meant nothing, and yet... here we are. Interesting, isn't it? That the truth has been revealed in such a short amount of time."

Charlie's eyes widened, his palms beginning to sweat. He tensed as he saw Hermione take a step back in disbelief. Evident confusion was plastered on her face as she looked to her boyfriend with furrowed brows.

"Charlie...?" she whispered, and Charlie's heart began to beat rapidly. "What's she on about?"

Before Charlie could open his mouth to explain, however, Umbridge cut him off with a wicked, short laugh.

"Oh, you poor thing," she said towards Hermione, thoroughly amused. "So blissfully unaware of the liar standing next to you..." She shifted her gaze back to Charlie, smiling sweetly, "Isn't that right, Mr. Hawthorne?"

Charlie's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing in Umbridge's direction as he growled, "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"And clearly, neither does she," retaliated Umbridge, gesturing towards Hermione sharply. "So please, enlighten us, my dear boy, what exactly is your truth?"

But the boy remained silent, despite how guilty it made him look. The look of confusion from Hermione was in drastic comparison to that of victory from Dolores Umbridge, and both gazes fell upon Charlie looking for answers. He submitted, however, to silence more docilely than usual, going as far as to look to floor to avoid eye contact.

Charlie was more torn than he had ever been before. Although he was sure heartbreak was to ensue if he were to deny any relation to Hermione, Charlie was adamant that even denial wasn't going to be enough to withstand the evidence that Dolores Umbridge had stumbled upon. He was caught red handed in the act of dishonesty and to be damned was his punishment.

"Silence... as expected," scoffed Umbridge, growing irritated at the boy's lack of response. She stepped forward and seized a handful of Charlie's robes, "Very well then, Mr. Hawthorne... I'm afraid you leave me no choice. If you refuse to give me answers, then I am forced to take necessary precautions. You and I are going to pay a little visit to Professor Snape's office, let's see if he can't extract the truth from you," she added, yanking the boy forward.

"You can't be serious!" groaned Charlie, trying to resist being pulled from the doorway. "It's two in the morning! Snape can't possibly —"

"Professor Snape responds immediately to the Headmistress's requests, Mr. Hawthorne," said Umbridge softly, putting a heavy emphasis on the word as she pulled him along with her. "Come along now."

Hermione's eyes widened, and despite her confusion towards Umbridge's previous comment, she took a step forward in her boyfriend's defence.

"Please Professor," she pleaded, and Umbridge glared at her, "I must insist you punish us both. We were both out after curfew! It wasn't his fault! Please, this is completely unjust—"

"Don't you dare question my authority, Miss Granger," said Umbridge, her lips tight as though resisting a spur of rage. "Believe me, under any other circumstances, I would be delighted to give the both of you the punishment you deserve. However, it was requested that you, Miss Granger, return to your common room unharmed by the person who had informed me of your whereabouts tonight."

Charlie clenched his jaw, anger pulsing through his veins, "Who was your informant?"

"Never you mind," snapped Umbridge, tightening her grasp on the boy's robes. "All that you need to know, is that your precious friend here," she paused to glance towards Hermione once again, "is free to go... now, say goodnight, Mr. Hawthorne."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, taking another step forward, "You can't be serious! I'm not just going to let you —"

"'Mione," whispered Charlie, and Hermione looked to him instantly, her eyes radiating worry. "It's okay, I'll be fine."

"No! No, this is completely unfair," said Hermione, her tone growing angrier. "Charlie, she can't just—"

"I can do whatever I like, Miss Granger," smiled Umbridge, her voice devilishly sweet. "For the light of the Ministry —"

"Stands behind you," mimicked Charlie, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it. Can we just go?"

"Very well then," huffed Umbridge, her toadlike face contorting. She turned to Hermione with a satisfied expression, "Goodnight, Miss Granger."

Again, Hermione looked to her boyfriend for any sort of reassurance, muttering, "Charlie...?"

"Goodnight Hermione," he whispered, frowning as Hermione nodded slowly at him and turned around, moving towards the portrait hole. Clambering into the common room, she gave Charlie one last fleeting look of worry as the door sealed up behind her.

Umbridge scoffed after Hermione, "Ungrateful..."

Before Charlie could defend his girlfriend in any way, he was pulled down the hallway by his robes. Although his outer facade was nothing but pure anger, Charlie was truly scared of the outcome of his relationship revelation. Nothing could lighten the ominous feelings that intensified with every step he took towards Snape's office.

When they made their way down to the dungeons, Umbridge paused outside of Snape's door and knocked; Charlie took a deep breath, wishing he were anywhere but here. Suddenly, the door opened and Snape appeared out of the shadows with his greasy hair and characteristically crooked nose. His cold voice made Charlie shiver.

"Headmistress," he scowled, glancing at Charlie in Umbridge's grasp with a distinct look of disgust, "to what do I owe the displeasure?"

"Severus," greeted Umbridge, and she pushed her way into the room; Charlie had no choice but to follow her. When she heard the door close slowly behind her, Umbridge turned back around to face Snape, "I require your assistance."

"Obviously," drawled Snape, thoroughly unimpressed at the late night visit. "What can I do for you?"

"It appears as though the Veritaserum had no effect on the boy," said Umbridge, eyeing Charlie curiously, "and I have reason to believe that he is withholding important information that could be beneficial to the Ministry."

Charlie gulped; his assumption of something being slipped into his drink yesterday afternoon was affirmed. The boy grew uneasy as he looked around. The shadowy room was lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which slimy bits of animals and plants were suspended in variously coloured potions.

"Very well," said Snape's icy voice, and Charlie shivered as the Professor turned towards him. "Take a seat, Mr. Hawthorne."

Charlie did as he was told at a nearby desk, with the horrible feeling that he was imprisoning himself. Snape sat in a chair across from him, his cold black eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Charlie, dislike etched in every line of his face. Umbridge stood behind him, arms crossed in observation as though this were simply another lesson that she was supervising.

"Well, Hawthorne, you know why you are here," said Snape, his monotone voice ricocheted off the walls.

"Actually, no, I don't," muttered Charlie, growing annoyed. "Forgive me, but I fail to understand how I could be withholding anything from the Ministry."

Umbridge scoffed, "If your blatant dishonesty regarding Miss Granger is any indication —"

"My dishonesty stemmed from the unwillingness to divulge personal matters to you," defended Charlie, glaring up at Umbridge with the utmost dislike. "Besides, we both know of whom you're reporting."

"All the more reason to tell the truth," retaliated Umbridge, her eyes narrowing. "Your father has a right to know —"

"My father has a right to know nothing," dismissed Charlie with a low growl. "That privilege is given to those who actually care, and not just when it's convenient for them either."

"How dare you talk of the Minister like tha—"

"I'll talk about my father any way I damn well please," muttered Charlie, his fists clenching. "It's not my fault that you're upset because the truth you speak contradicts the lie you live."

"But your truth has revealed itself, hasn't it, Mr. Hawthorne?" taunted Umbridge. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You know," began Charlie, laughing to himself slightly, "I think it's a bloody shame that you and a Dementor haven't shared a kiss yet, Headmistress."

This had evidently stricken a nerve within Dolores Umbridge. Within seconds, she lunged forward, prepared to attack the boy with every bit of rage that was bottled up inside of her:

"YOU INSOLENT AND FOUL LITTLE BOY —"

"That's enough," growled Snape, seizing the Headmistress by the arm before she made contact with the boy in the chair. He urged her towards the door, saying, "Perhaps it's best if you leave the room. Hawthorne's ability to become disinterested is bad enough without your obnoxious distractions."

"Yes, yes. Very well then, Severus," said Umbridge with a heavy exhale as she fixed her pink blazer, calming herself down. Her eyes fixated on Charlie as she moved to the door, "If you need me, I'll be in my office... it appears that I now have a very important letter to write to the Minister."

And with that, she swept from the room without further instruction. Charlie's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. He acknowledged the seriousness of his reality in that moment, and instantly regretted poking fun at the situation. He wondered if there was any way he could of removed himself from the problem entirely, but realized, as the door shut behind Umbridge, that he was too late.

It was all over. This long kept secret was to come to light by morning, and Charlie was sure his father would seize the opportunity. Everything was ruined. Hermione was in danger... and he felt as though it was all his fault —

"Hmm," muttered Snape, his eyes narrowing malevolently, pulling Charlie from his thoughts. "You were able to withstand the effects of a Veritaserum, were you?"

"I don't know," mumbled Charlie, feeling defeated. "I don't know how it happened, but I reckon that's what you're here for."

"Watch your tone, Hawthorne," said Snape, his voice growing impatient. "I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times."

"Yes... sir." said Charlie,

Snape continued to survey him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then said, "Sealing your mind against magical intrusion and influence often requires skill at Occlumency, you know. Only then is one able to shut down memories and feelings that contradict the lie, and therefore, can utter falsehoods in one's presence without detection."

Charlie raised a brow, "Occlumency...? The branch of magic you've been teaching Harry since the Christmas holidays?"

Snape nodded, "Precisely."

"And what does that have to do with me?" asked Charlie, his eyes growing tired. "Please Professor, if you don't mind, can we just get this over with? Do what you have to do, then just let me get back to my dorm room, would you?"

Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savour the pleasure of insulting Charlie, before continuing.

"Only someone like you would think it was that simple. The mind is not a book to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls to be perused by any invader, the mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Hawthorne — or at least, most minds are." He smirked, amused by his attempted joke. "It is true, however, that those who have mastered Occlumency are able, under certain conditions, to suppress only the thoughts, emotions, and memories that would contradict whatever it is an Occlumens wishes a Legilimens to believe."

Charlie's heart was pumping fast again. None of this added up.

"So, what are you saying exactly?" he asked abruptly. "I mean, I've heard of Occlumency and Legilimency, but again, I fail to understand what this has to do with me? Sir?"

Snape stared at Charlie for a few moments, tracing his mouth with his finger. When he spoke again, it was slow and deliberate, as though he weighed every word.

"It appears that you have naturally been gifted with the skill of Occlumency, Hawthorne," he said softly. "It requires a great deal of willpower, as well as a high degree of mental and emotional discipline. It is also one method of resisting the influence of Veritaserum, which explains the Headmistress's recent confusion."

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed, "How can I be gifted at something without realizing that it's happening?"

"Often times, our minds normalize skills that we have achieved in the early stages of our lives," explained Snape, a scowl appearing on his face. "In fact, it would come as no surprise if Dumbledore had acted as some sort of guide in this obscure branch of magic, given your father's position of power."

"So, my granddad has prepared me for this, has he?" inquired Charlie, his mind raking for answers. "And why do you suppose he hadn't mentioned any of this before? Sir?" he added, emphasizing the word as soon as Snape glared at him.

"Best not to question the cryptic methods of your grandfather," muttered Snape in a dangerous voice.

"How would we know then?" said Charlie urgently. "I'm supposed to take your word for it, am I?"

"I told you," growled Snape, rigid in his chair, his eyes becoming slits, "to call me 'sir'."

"Yes, sir," muttered Charlie impatiently, "but how do you know — ?"

"It is enough that we know," said Snape repressively. "I've had my suspicions, mind you, but the important point is to keep this skill of yours hidden for now. If anyone were to ever realize the fact that they are not able to access your thoughts and feelings —"

"They might use other methods?" asked Charlie, gulping slightly. "Sir?" he added hurriedly.

"They might," said Snape, sounding cold and unconcerned. "Which is why we need to put your doubt to rest. You can't protect something you don't believe in."

Snape pulled out his wand from an inside pocket of his robes, and Charlie tensed in his chair. Standing up, Snape towered over the boy, his long nose peering out from the shadows.

"Stand up and take out your wand, Hawthorne."

Charlie got to his feet, feeling nervous. They faced each other with the desk between them.

Snape snarled, "You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of."

"And what are you going to do?" Charlie asked, eyeing Snape's wand apprehensively.

"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," said Snape softly. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. You will find that similar powers are needed for this... brace yourself, now."

"Now, wait a second —"

"Legilimens!"

Snape had struck before Charlie was ready, before he had even begun to summon any force of resistance. The office swam in front of his eyes and vanished; image after image was racing through his mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded him to his surroundings.

He was five, watching his father entertain a crowd of photographers from the Daily Prophet, and his heart burst with loneliness... he was nine, and he was chasing one of Hagrid's crup puppies around the pumpkin patch... he was sitting under the Sorting Hat, hoping that he wouldn't disappoint his father... he was looking up at Harry as he felt the life drain from him in the Chamber of Secrets... a hundred dementors were closing in on him and his friends beside the dark lake... Hermione was kissing him on the steps of the Entrance Hall...

No, said a voice inside Charlie's head, as the memory of Hermione drew nearer, you're not watching that, you're not watching it, it's private —

He felt a sharp pain in his knee and suddenly everything went black; his mind vacant of all memories. Snape's office had come back into view and he realised that he had fallen to the floor; one of his knees had collided painfully with the leg of Snape's desk. Charlie collapsed on all fours, panting; he could feel the shocked gaze of Professor Snape on the side of his face.

"D-Did y-you see everything I saw?" the boy asked, unsure whether or not he actually wanted to hear the answer.

"I saw nothing," said Snape, his mouth slightly agape.  "I tried to access a multitude of different memories, but you wouldn't let me get too far. You managed to stop me. Your mind was clear, and you remained focused almost entirely. For a first attempt that was not as poor as it should have been."

"Brilliant," muttered Charlie bitterly, getting up from the floor. "Does this mean I'm free to go?"

"Not just yet, Hawthorne," Snape narrowed his eyes, his lips curling in amusement, "What do you suggest I tell the Headmistress when she inquires about my findings this evening? She seems fairly adamant of your dishonesty under the influence of the Veritaserum."

"I-I don't k-know —"

"Tell her that the next time she slips a truth potion into a student's drink without their knowledge," came a stern voice from the office doorway, "that it should be brewed by a competent teacher to avoid the risk of faulty effects."

Charlie whipped his head around, and a sense of relief washed over him. In the doorway stood Professor McGonagall, her arms crossed with her round spectacles perched on the tip of her nose.

"Professor McGonagall," Charlie said, sighing contently. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

"I came as soon as I heard," said McGonagall, smiling at Charlie over her glasses. "I must apologize for not arriving sooner. Never in my thirty-nine years of teaching have I seen such an act of raving lunacy! That wretched woman might as well set fire to the prestigious reputation of Hogwarts herself!"

"Ah Minerva," grunted Snape, striding forwards. "Woken up on the wrong side of the bed, I see."

"Don't you start with me, Severus!" shouted McGonagall, and Charlie saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare. "How dare you even tolerate that woman's orders! On what grounds does she have to demand repercussions at nearly three o'clock in the morning?! And with a member of my House, no doubt! Absolutely preposterous!" She took a sharp exhale and turned to Charlie, "Come along now, Charles. Let's get you to bed... I shall deal with this tomorrow morning."

Charlie nodded, and made a start towards the office door, itching to be rid of Snape and his unfriendly scowl. As he stepped out into the dark, deserted corridor, Charlie waited for McGonagall, who had turned back to speak with Professor Snape one last time, "Goodnight, Severus."

And with that, McGonagall, still angry as rage pulsed in her veins, stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind her. Charlie followed McGonagall down the hallway without another word, his footsteps slow and sluggish as his mind raked with worry.

When the two of them reached the Fat Lady corridor in Gryffindor Tower, McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. Charlie stood awkwardly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes, awaiting the Professor to speak what was on her mind.

"If I recall, Charles," she began, stopping in front of the Fat Lady portrait, "I remember telling you not to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself..."

"I didn't do anything on purpose, Professor," shrugged Charlie, his voice had a hint of slight plea. "I know I shouldn't have been out after curfew, but I just —"

"Wanted to spend time with Miss Granger, I suspect," smirked McGonagall, finishing the sentence. When Charlie's eyes widened, she laughed, adding, "Don't act so surprised, Charles. Who else would have informed me of your whereabouts?"

Charlie smiled at the thought, muttering, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"You should know," began McGonagall, searching his face for answers, "that Miss Granger did express some confusion with Professor Umbridge's sudden interest in your... relationship," she added with a knowing smile, which made Charlie blush slightly. "So, is there anything you'd like to share with me as to why that is? Anything that might explain the reason for Professor Snape's involvement?

"Professor Umbridge requested to see me in her office yesterday afternoon," explained Charlie nervously. "I was unaware at the time, but she managed to slip a vile of Veritaserum into my tea." Disregarding McGonagall's look of dissatisfaction, Charlie pressed on, "She asked me a load of questions, but what she hadn't realized was that the potion seemingly had no effect on me. I said things that weren't true... but when Umbridge caught Hermione and I earlier, she knew that something was wrong. I guess she figured Snape could've known why the potion didn't work."

"Okay," said McGonagall softly through pursed lips. "But that doesn't explain the sudden interest in teenage romance...?"

Charlie sighed, lowering his head, "She's interested per my father's request. He's under the impression that I've been lying to him, you see, and he's adamant about uncovering everything I've tried so desperately to keep a secret."

McGonagall furrowed her brows, "Why would you need to keep your relationship a secret? Surely that isn't any of his business..."

"My father is a very powerful man, Professor," muttered Charlie sadly, half-divulging in the truth. "And judging by his obvious pureblood supremacist ideologies, I don't think he'd take too lightly to find out that his only son was dating a muggle-born." He paused to exhale a shaky, short breath, "I-I just wanted to protect her from all of it... she doesn't deserve this."

"Oh, my dear boy," whispered McGonagall consolingly, placing a hand on the Charlie's shoulder. "I see now... I understand. I'll fix this, okay? To the best of my ability, I promise you." She paused for a moment, gathering the courage to add, "However, I don't doubt Dolores's ability to run to the Minister at the first sign of trouble... meaning, it might already be too late. If that is the case, and I know how difficult this must be to hear, I suggest that you keep your distance from Miss Granger for the time being... just until this all blows over, okay?"

Charlie frowned, his heart felt like it was breaking in his chest as he muttered, "And how do you suppose I do that?"

"I don't know, Charles," said McGonagall softly as she took out her wand and waved it, opening the portrait hole door. "It's merely a suggestion."

Sighing, Charlie climbed after McGonagall through the portrait hole, the door closing as the two stepped into the dark and quiet common room. The boy's brown eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and, with the help of the moonlight peering in from the windows, Charlie could see the silhouette of his girlfriend, awaiting his return with anticipation.

"Easier said than done, Professor," Charlie mumbled, as he and McGonagall made their way towards a worried Hermione.

Even through the shadows, Charlie could see the mixed looks of confusion, worry, and guilt that spread across Hermione's face, and in that single moment, he wondered how things had went so wrong so quickly. It seemed surreal that less than two hours prior the two of them engaged in one of the most electrifying portrayals of love, and now, everything seemed to be falling apart...

"Good evening, Miss Granger. Still awake, I see," said McGonagall with a whisper, being mindful of the sleeping students overhead.

"I'm sorry, Professor," whispered Hermione, although her eyes were locked onto Charlie's. "I just couldn't... not until..."

"I understand," nodded McGonagall, raising a hand to dismiss the topic. She peered between her two students over her round spectacles, adding, "Very well then, I'll give you two a moment. After that, however, I do insist that the two of you try to get some sleep, alright? In separate beds preferably," she added, and Charlie and Hermione blushed.

With a laugh, McGonagall bade a farewell and set off for her Head of House dormitories. Charlie listened to her footsteps fade away before he finally met Hermione's eyes, becoming nervous once again as the two succumbed to silence.

"Hi," whispered Charlie, unaware of what else to say.

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione lowly, resisting the urge to embrace him, given the fact that there was still so much they needed to talk about.

"I'm fine," said Charlie shakily, his hands fidgeting nervously in his pockets. "Thanks to you that is... I don't know how long I would've been in Snape's office if McGonagall hadn't shown up."

"I wasn't going to sit here and do nothing," said Hermione assertively, her disinterest for Umbridge was obvious. "Especially after knowing what that foul woman is capable of."

"I know," whispered Charlie, a small proud smile curling on his lips.

Hermione breathed out slowly, gathering courage before saying, "We need to talk."

Charlie's smile faltered, and he began to internally panic, dreading the potential outcome of this conversation.

"I know," he repeated, but this time he frowned.

"I-Is it t-true?" Hermione stammered, and Charlie instantly looked to the floor in shame. "D-Did you tell her that our r-relationship meant n-nothing...?"

Charlie cleared his throat, his cheeks flustered as he muttered, "Yes."

Hermione froze, her eyes full of something akin to horror. She took a step away from him in disbelief, her hands shaking with betrayal.

Panicked by this, Charlie added hastily, "But not for the reasons you think."

"How else am I supposed to think, Charlie?" asked Hermione sadly, and she looked away from him.

"I know it sounds bad," whispered Charlie, taking a step forward and reaching out for her. "But you have to trust me when I say that I was doing it to protect you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes towards her boyfriend, anger fuelling up inside her, "Protect me? How on earth does that make any viable sense?!"

"Umbridge wanted answers," said Charlie hastily. "Answers to questions that I had no intention of sharing with her... so, I lied. I thought that if I told her that there was nothing going on between us, she would leave us alone."

"Yeah?" scoffed Hermione, crossing her arms. "And how did that work out for you? God, did it even occur to you what would've happened had she asked literally anyone about us?! Everyone knows! There was no point in lying unless you actually —"

"I don't feel that way," dismissed Charlie at once. "How can you say that after what I told you earlier tonight? Forgive me, but did the 'I love you' somehow get lost in translation?"

"How would you react if you were in my position?" retaliated Hermione, trying to make a point. When Charlie said nothing in response, she pressed on, "Exactly... so, don't act as if I don't have a right to be upset — you lied for no reason!"

Charlie shook his head, muttering, "I had a reason."

"Then tell me!" shouted Hermione, louder than intended. "How many times do I have to ask you to stop keeping things from me?"

Charlie shrugged, feeling defeated, "I've told you before that Umbridge is here to report back to my father."

"So, that's what this is about? Your father?" inquired Hermione, raising a brow. "And what? You don't want him to know about us?"

"You of all people should know why," mumbled Charlie, gritting his teeth slightly at the thought of his father. "When we first met, you ridiculed me for my father's pureblood supremacist behaviour — you can't exactly blame me from wanting to protect you from that, can you?"

Hermione's angry expression faltered and she sighed, mumbling sadly, "I can protect myself."

"I know you can," Charlie said, smiling softly. "But when it comes to my father, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that you never have to be put in that position because, contrary to what you may think... I love you."

Hermione licked her lips, her eyes full of awe as they never left his. Despite everything that's happened, she couldn't fight the feeling that swelled inside her as the words left his mouth again. Her face softened, and Charlie took this as a go-ahead to take a step forward. He reached her, and to his surprise, Hermione allowed him to touch her; the two of them joined together in a tight embrace.

Charlie leaned forward a little and she rose up to meet him in response. He stopped just short though, her big brown eyes not two inches from his own.

"And that's the truth," he whispered against her lips, and Hermione could tell that his reaffirmation came deep within him.

She blinked, her breath tickling his lips as she remained silent for a few seconds. In that moment, Hermione realized just how much she'd ever miss Charlie if something were to happen between them. It hadn't been two hours since their encounter on the Astronomy Tower, and yet, as they stood in the common room, Hermione felt at home in the arms of the boy she loved. He was her home, and she was his —

"I love you too," she said from her heart, her breath catching in her throat as the words made Charlie grin.

He closed the gap between them, silence descending upon them as their lips met in a loving embrace, Hermione's eyes finally leaving his as she let them flutter closed. Charlie held her tightly, wrapping his arms around her as he continued to kiss her slowly, moving his lips gently against hers. She kissed him back just as lovingly, her arms finding their way around his neck.

The kiss didn't end until they naturally came apart, both smiling as they rested their foreheads against one another. Charlie hummed contently as if everything up until this point had been worth it.

"I love you," he whispered again, and he internally vowed that he would say those three words for the rest of his life.

Hermione giggled, pecking him on the lips once more, before she rested her head against his chest and let her eyes close, listening to his heartbeat.

"That's all that matters, isn't it?" she asked wholeheartedly. "I love you and you love me."

Charlie's lips quirked into a smile and he rested his cheek on top of Hermione's head, forgetting all about the opposing outside factors to their relationship for the simple fraction of a second.

"Yeah," he sighed happily. "That's all that matters."

——————————————————

The next day seemed to dawn with extreme suspense looming over Charlie's head. Despite how amazing it felt to clear the air with Hermione the night prior, it didn't take long for reality to set back in.

Charlie's mind continued to dwell, ever more miserably, on the fact that his father must've been notified of what had happened by now. He felt as though the idea of it was eating him from inside, consuming him to the point where it was all he thought about.

He woke up late the next morning, and although he had been given a few peaceful hours of uninterrupted sleep, Charlie felt positively drained. He sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes, the clarity of the room coming into view; his friends had seemingly gone to breakfast without him, not that he could blame them.

Charlie got out of bed and got changed quickly. Ludo, who had awoken at his owner's movement, was eager to say good morning as he ran around, barking loudly. Charlie smiled softly, petting the dog lovingly before walking to the door and setting off for the common room.

Letting his feet carry him, Charlie made his way down the spiral staircase. He ran a hand over his face, trying to rid it of obvious tiredness as he reached the bottom. The common room came into view, along with its residents; his friends. Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron sat around the fireplace, each in their signature spots. Around the room, Lee Jordan entertained a bunch of fourth year girls with Fred and George, while Neville, Dean, and Seamus played cards at a nearby table.

Charlie froze on the stairs, however, as he caught sight of the proximity of Ron and Hermione on the common room couch. They appeared to be working vigorously on one of the various assignment's from Umbridge's ream of homework; Ginny and Harry were cuddled up, unbothered by the whole thing. They had yet to notice their friend on the stairs, but Charlie could still overhear their conversation.

"I'm not asking you to write all of it for me," said Ron towards Hermione, laughing slightly as he gestured to the paper in front of them, "but I'd appreciate the help. With Quidditch practice everyday, I'm struggling to keep up!"

"I'll do your introduction," suggested Hermione, playfully rolling her eyes. "How's that?"

"Hermione," beamed Ron, leaning a little closer than Charlie appreciated, "you're honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met."

Charlie's hands balled into fists, anger rolling through him. The boy's veins were pulsing with a newfound rage as a sudden realization washed over him. Suddenly, Umbridge's voice began to ring in his ears as though confirming his suspicions:

"However, it was requested that you, Miss Granger, return to your common room unharmed by the person who had informed me of your whereabouts tonight."

'Of course,' Charlie thought angrily, and he gritted his teeth. 'It was Ron. Of course it was. Who else would've it have been? That two-faced, slimy git!'

Overcome with rage, Charlie marched across the common room toward the youngest Weasley boy. Before anyone could acknowledge his arrival, Charlie grabbed Ron's shoulder and pulled, spinning him around.

Ron's facial expression turned to one of surprise and horror for the merest second before Charlie's fist slammed into his face and sent him to the ground.

Charlie's nostrils flared as he growled, "Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"

"Charlie!" shrieked Hermione, upon realization of what was happening. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

The fight in the common room grabbed the attention of nearby spectators, and soon enough, Charlie was being held back by Fred, George, and Harry, all of whom, were questioning where this sudden outburst had derived from.

"Let go!" yelled Charlie, squirming for release in the arms of Fred and George. "He deserves what I'm about to do to him!"

Harry attempted to calm the situation down, muttering, "Calm down, mate. Let's talk this out —"

"Not this time," roared Charlie, reaching his peak of anger. His eyes were locked on Ron, who stumbled to his feet once again, "He's an arse!"

"Calm down," soothed George, trying to keep his friend contained.

Fred agreed, "Don't do anything stupid —"

Disregarding this, Charlie was giving his best mate a disgusted look, receiving an enraged one in response. Charlie could hear the pleading screams of Hermione and Ginny in the background, but he was overwhelmed with rage.

Ron gave a cry and charged forward, and Charlie quickly slipped from the grasp of Fred and George. Perfect timing too, as Ron swung a giant haymaker that Charlie ducked before slamming into him and taking him to the ground hard. He clambered onto his chest, pinning him down, and punched him in the face.

"You bloody git!" Charlie shouted, throwing punch after punch at the ginger's face. "You've ruined everything!"

Charlie cocked his fist back, intent on hitting Ron in the face again. He was hit first, though, the force of the blow sending him to the ground in a daze.

"I had her best interests at heart, which is more than you can say!" Ron replied, hitting Charlie in the face again as he pinned him down.

Before Charlie could respond, Ron was ripped off of him by Fred and George. Harry quickly helped Charlie to his feet, but tried to restrain his friend from squaring up again.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" shouted Ginny, making her presence known.

"Yeah, go on, Ron," taunted Charlie, locking deadly eye contact with the restrained Weasley brother. "Tell them what you did!"

"Want me to admit it? Would that make you happy?" asked Ron icily, panting heavily as the entire room turned towards him. "Okay, fine! Yes, I'm the one who told Umbridge where you were last night, and you would've done the same if you were me!"

"Not a chance!" shouted Charlie, struggling against Harry's restraints. "Because unlike you, I'm not a snitch!" Charlie took a pause and addressed the room, laughing sarcastically, "Quick! Someone cover this tosser in boils and tell Zacharias Smith that we've found him a new best friend!"

Ron's ears turned red as his hands balled into fists.

"If I'm a snitch then so be it," he said dangerously, "but let's not dismiss the fact that I only did this to protect Hermione, which is more than you can bloody say!"

"Bullshit!" roared Charlie disbelievingly. "We both know that's not the real reason, you pathetic idiot!"

"Idiot, am I?" shouted Ron, trying to wiggle to free a hand. "Says you! You're the bloody idiot for thinking that you could get away with the shit you've pulled! Here's a reality check for you, mate, your granddad can't save you anymore —"

"You're such a dickhead!" growled Charlie, breaking free from Harry's restraints and charging at Ron, pure fury fueling his muscles.

To his surprise, Fred and George released Ron, apparently more than willing to witness the fight after their brother's recent behaviour. Charlie tackled Ron and pounded him as savagely as he could into the floor, hitting every possible inch of him that he could reach, all while Ron tried desperately to cover his face.

"Stop it!"

Charlie froze immediately, his fist suspended in midair, as Hermione's voice rang in his ears. She stood overtop of them, looking down in the utmost horror. Her boyfriend's moment of hesitation, however, was a mistake. He was blinded as Ron's fist caught his temple, sending him crashing on his back, spots dancing in his vision.

Quickly recovering himself, Charlie scrambled to his feet along with Ron, who's cheek was already starting to bruise. Charlie glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, his fists unclenching immediately upon seeing her face. She was looking at him with disappointment and sadness, sending a guilty panic through his heart.

The room was quiet, covered in a horrible, tension-filled silence. Ron and Charlie glared at once another from across the room almost as if it was impossible that the two had been best mates for five years. Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, and everyone else in the common room stood, aghast at the situation that had just unravelled.

Unwilling to face the stares for much longer, Charlie turned without saying another word and made for the exit. He could hear the protests of Harry and Hermione from behind him, but he kept his eyes forward, encouraged to calm down first if he were to ever face Ronald Weasley's face again.

The portrait door closed behind her boyfriend, and Hermione sighed into her hands, overwhelmed with what had just happened. Her head perked up at the sound of a loud bang that ricocheted off of the walls of the common room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron rub the back of his head as he let out a low grunt.

He was eyeing Ginny, who held a large Arithmancy textbook in her hands, with an intense glare that one could assume asked the question, 'what the bloody hell was that for?'  

As though his sister could read his mind, Ginny pointed towards her brother, scolding him with an unsatisfied expression.

"That's what you get for being an insufferable git!"

Seemingly agreeing with this statement, Hermione marched up to Ron from across the room, her eyes narrowing in fury.

"Ah, shit," muttered Fred, although his tone was slightly amused. "Here we go again..."

Hermione stopped in front of Ron, and although he was significantly taller than her, she somehow towered over him, radiating immense anger. Ron's eyes softened in shame, and as he went to open his mouth to apologize for what had happened, Hermione slapped him, hard across the face.

"For future reference," she snapped, the palm of her hand stinging, "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Ronald Weasley."

Disregarding Fred and George's howls of laughter along with Ginny and Harry's gasps of shock, Hermione turned on her heel, following suit of her boyfriend who had left just moments prior. The difference, however, was that Hermione wore a victorious smirk whereas Charlie might as well have had steam coming from his ears —

And so, Hermione set off in search of her boyfriend. Expectedly, it didn't take long for her to find him. Charlie sat on a windowsill in the first-floor corridor, collecting his thoughts in the alcove as he watched the weather pour down rain outside.

Hermione heard him sigh as she approached him, and she simply watched him quietly without saying a word, uncertain as to if he wished for her company. Charlie, unaware of his girlfriend's presence, stared up at the rain. He was silently glad for each cold, stinging drop that hit his exposed skin; it augmented his mood.

Unable to resist the urge to speak to her boyfriend, Hermione crept up behind him quietly before wrapping her arms around his torso, resting her head against his back. Almost instantly, Charlie melted into the embrace, well aware of who it was, and his anger faded away at her touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear, and he was relieved as he felt Hermione nod against him.

"I know," she responded, holding him tightly.

That was all that needed to be said.

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a moment; Hermione placed light, soothing kisses on the boy's back, willing to be there for him as he calmed down and proving, once again, that she loved every part of him... even his flaws.

In comparison, Charlie was entirely grateful that she stayed with him as it took his mind off of everything that was troubling him. For a simple fleeting moment, Ron didn't cross his mind, nor did his father's suspicious silence after everything that had happened.

He loved Hermione, and that was all that mattered.

——————————————————

As a dull March blurred into a squally April, Charlie's life seemed to have become one long series of worries and problems again.

Although part of the same friend group, Charlie and Ron had still had yet to speak since their fight. Neither one of them could let go of their pride for one moment to admit that they were in the wrong. Harry and Hermione tried to ease the obvious tension between the two boys, willing to leave the past behind them, but it appeared that neither Ron or Charlie were ready to do so.

When it came to Umbridge and his father, Charlie grew paranoid at the sudden disinterest from both parties. Umbridge had seemingly left him alone for the time being, and his father was, uncharacteristically, quiet after confirmation of what he had been searching for all year long.

The boy had this fear that his world would come crashing down the second that he let his guard down... which is the exact reason he remained on high alert all of the time —

If his own problems weren't bad enough, Charlie also had to appeal to those of Harry Potter, who had recently revealed that he would be seizing all of his Remedial Potions lessons with Professor Snape.

"But why haven't you got Occlumency lessons any more?" said Hermione, frowning as this bit of information was revealed in the Great Hall one morning.

"I've told you," Harry muttered. "Snape reckons I can carry on by myself now that I've got the basics."

Hermione eyed him sceptically, "So you've stopped having funny dreams?"

"Pretty much," said Harry, not looking at her.

"Right," sniggered Charlie, unconvinced, "because that was totally convincing."

Harry sighed, "Just drop it, okay?"

And without further pressure on the topic, it faded away as though it was something meant for Harry to deal with all by himself.

The truth was, Harry was trying to cope with the recent revelation that his father wasn't who he thought he was. For nearly five years the thought of James Potter had been a source of comfort, of inspiration. Whenever someone had told Harry that he was like James, he had glowed with pride inside. And now... now he felt cold and miserable at the thought of him.

For just recently, Harry had discovered that Snape's aspersions regarding his father's character had been right all along. James Potter was a tormentor in the mind of Severus Snape, and Harry had to find this out after accidentally snooping around in Snape's memories.

Harry kept reminding himself that Lily had intervened; his mother had been decent. The only thing from the memory that lightened his spirits was the fact that, his mother and Charlie's mother, Julia Dumbledore, were rightfully disturbed by the Marauders that day. They, thankfully, put a stop to the unjust acts of humiliation that no human should ever have to endure —

Before anyone could realize, it was the first day of the Easter holidays and Hermione, as was her custom, had spent a large part of the day drawing up revision timetables for the core four. The boys had let her do it; it was easier than arguing with her and, in any case, they might come in handy.

Ron had been startled to discover there were only six weeks left until their exams.

"How can that come as a shock?" Hermione demanded, as she tapped each little square on Ron's timetable with her wand so that it flashed a different colour according to its subject.

"I dunno," said Ron, "there's been a lot going on."

"Well, there you are," she said, handing him his timetable, "if you follow that you should do fine."

You could map everything out for him, thought Charlie angrily, and he still wouldn't amount to anything.

The weather grew breezier, brighter and warmer as the Easter holidays passed, but Charlie, along with the rest of the fifth- and seventh-years, was trapped inside, revising, traipsing back and forth to the library. Charlie pretended his bad mood had no other cause but the approaching exams, and as his fellow Gryffindors were sick of studying themselves, his excuse went unchallenged.

"Charlie, I'm talking to you, can you hear me?"

"Huh?"

He looked round. Elaina Dumont, looking very windswept, had joined him at the library table where he had been sitting alone. It was late on Sunday evening; Hermione had gone back to Gryffindor Tower to revise Ancient Runes, Harry had buggered off with Ginny somewhere, and Ron had Quidditch practice.

"Oh, hey," said Charlie, pulling his books towards him. "How are you?"

Elaina smiled sweetly, "Good, and you?"

"Fine, thanks," Charlie replied bluntly, trying to sound convincing.

"I've got something for you," sighed Elaina contently, "it's only just got through Umbridge's new screening process."

She hoisted a box wrapped in brown paper on to the table; it had clearly been unwrapped and carelessly re-wrapped. There was a scribbled note across it in red ink, reading:

Inspected and Passed by the Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

"They're Easter eggs from my mum," said Elaina, giggling slightly. "I figured you could use one... you're looking a bit peaky."

She handed him a handsome chocolate egg decorated with small, iced broomsticks and, according to the packaging, containing a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees. Charlie looked at it for a moment, then smiled softly.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright, Char?" Elaina asked, eyeing the boy curiously.

"Yeah, I'm fine," reaffirmed Charlie, rubbing his eyes. He looked between the egg and Elaina, muttering, "Thanks for this."

"No worries," nodded Elaina thoughtfully. She laughed to lighten the mood, adding, "Besides, I hear eating chocolate is a great study habit."

Charlie laughed with her. Perhaps it was the effect of the chocolate — Lupin had always advised eating some after encounters with Dementors — or simply because he had finally stopped worrying for one second, but he felt a bit more hopeful.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

"Oh damn," whispered Elaina, jumping to her feet. "I forgot —"

Madame Pince was swooping down on them, her shrivelled face contorted with rage.

"Chocolate in the library?!" she screamed, absolutely perplexed. "Out — out — OUT!"

And whipping out her wand, she caused Charlie's books, bag and ink bottle to chase him and Elaina from the library, whacking them repeatedly over the head as they ran.

—————————————————

As though to underline the importance of their upcoming examinations, a batch of pamphlets, leaflets and notices concerning various wizarding careers appeared on the tables in Gryffindor Tower shortly before the end of the holidays, along with yet another notice on the board, which read:

CAREERS ADVICE

All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers.

Times of individual appointments are listed below.

Charlie looked down the list and found that he was expected in Professor McGonagall's office at half past two on Monday, which would mean missing most of Arithmancy.

As expected, he and the other fifth-years spent a considerable part of the final weekend of the Easter break reading all the careers information that had been left there for their perusal.

"Well, I don't fancy Healing," said Ron on the last evening of the holidays. He was immersed in a leaflet that carried the crossed bone-and-wand emblem of St. Mungo's on its front. "It says here you need at least 'E' at NEWT level in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. I mean... blimey... don't want much, do they?"

"Well, it's a very responsible job, isn't it?" muttered Charlie absently. "I mean, you're responsible for hundreds of sick patients... if anything, you'd think they require more."

Hermione was poring over a bright pink and orange leaflet, that was headed, SO YOU THINK YOU'D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS?, "You don't seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles; all they want is an OWL in Muggle Studies. Listen to this, 'more important is your enthusiasm, patience and a good sense of fun!'"

"You'd need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle," said Harry darkly, although there was an underlying tone of amusement. "Good sense of when to duck, more like."

Before Charlie could laugh, Fred and George had come round the table to join them.

"Heard you want to talk to Sirius," whispered Fred to Harry, stretching out his legs on the table in front of them and causing several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic to slide off on to the floor.

"What?" said Hermione sharply, freezing with her hand halfway towards picking up, MAKE A BANG AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL ACCIDENTS AND CATASTROPHES.

"Well, yeah..." said Harry, trying to sound casual, "I just thought I'd —"

"Don't be so ridiculous," laughed Hermione, straightening up and looking at him as though she could not believe her eyes. "With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?"

"Well, we think we can find a way around that," said George, smiling. "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?"

"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" continued Fred. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's revision, too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do."

He gave Hermione a sanctimonious little nod. She looked rather taken aback by this thoughtfulness.

"But it's business as usual from tomorrow," Fred continued briskly. "And if we're going to be causing a bit of uproar, why not do it so that Harry can have his chat with Sirius?"

"Yes, but still," said Hermione, with an air of explaining something very simple to somebody very obtuse, "even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?"

"Umbridge's office," said Harry quietly.

Charlie froze, looking to his friend as though he had gone mad. It was true, of course, that Umbridge's fireplace was the only one not being watched around the castle, but still... absolutely mad, and apparently Charlie wasn't the only one who thought so:

"Are — you — insane?" said Hermione in a hushed voice.

Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the Cultivated Fungus Trade and was watching the conversation warily.

"I don't think so," said Harry, shrugging.

Ron furrowed his brows, "How are you going to get in there in the first place?"

Harry was ready for this question.

"Sirius's knife," he said at once.

"Sorry?" inquired Charlie, thinking he had misheard.

"Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock," explained Harry effortlessly. "So even if she's bewitched the door so Alohamora won't work, which I bet she has —"

"What do you think about this?" Hermione demanded of Charlie, and Harry, weirdly enough, was reminded irresistibly of Mrs. Weasley appealing to her husband.

"I dunno," shrugged Charlie, unaware of who to side with. "If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?"

"Spoken like a true friend," said Fred, clapping Charlie hard on the back. "Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact if everybody's in the corridors — Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office — I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?" he said, looking at George.

"Easy," agreed George, looking thoroughly excited.

"What sort of diversion is it?" inquired Ron, looking skeptical.

"Why?" retaliated Charlie, unable to resist the opportunity. "Going to snitch on them, are you?"

"Shut up," growled Ron, and Hermione had to grab Charlie's hand under the table to stop him from causing a scene.

"You'll see, little bro," said Fred, ignoring the tension as he and George got up again. "At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow."

——————————————————

Charlie awoke very early the next day, feeling almost as anxious as he had done the previous morning. It was not only the prospect of Harry getting caught in Umbridge's office that was making him nervous, though that was certainly bad enough; it was also the forever-looming worries of his fathers dangerous capabilities.

After lying in bed for a while thinking about the day ahead, Charlie got up very quietly and moved across to the window beside Neville's bed, and stared out on a truly glorious morning. The sky was a clear, misty, opalescent blue. Directly ahead of him, however, something caught his utmost attention: movement on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Charlie squinted into the sun and saw Hagrid emerging from between the trees. He seemed to be limping. As Charlie watched, Hagrid staggered to the door of his cabin and disappeared inside it. The young boy watched the cabin for several minutes. Hagrid did not emerge again, but smoke furled from the chimney, so Hagrid could not be so badly injured that he was unequal to stoking the fire.

Shrugging it off, Charlie turned away from the window, headed back to his trunk and started to dress, the day beginning like any other.

By the time Charlie got through an excruciatingly long Potions lesson with Professor Snape, it was nearly time for his careers advice appointment with Professor McGonagall. In true Charlie fashion, he hurtled back upstairs and arrived out of breath, only a few minutes late.

"I'm here," he panted as he closed the door. "Sorry I'm late."

"No matter, Hawthorne," McGonagall said briskly, but as she spoke, somebody else sniffed from the corner. Charlie looked round, a lump forming immediately in his throat.

Professor Umbridge was sitting there, a clipboard on her knee, a fussy little pie-frill around her neck and a small, horribly smug smile on her face.

"Sit down, Charles," said Professor McGonagall tersely. Her hands shook slightly as she shuffled the many pamphlets littering her desk.

Reluctantly, Charlie sat down with his back to Umbridge and did his best to pretend he could not hear the scratching of her quill on her clipboard.

"Well, Charles, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into the sixth and seventh years," said Professor McGonagall kindly. "Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?"

"I, uh —"

He was finding the scratching noise from behind him very distracting.

"Yes?" Professor McGonagall prompted the boy.

"Well, I thought of, maybe, being a teacher," Charlie mumbled, smiling slightly as he recalled his conversation with Hermione on the Astronomy Tower.

"You'd need top grades for that," explained Professor McGonagall, extracting a small, dark leaflet from under the mass on her desk and opening it. "They ask for a minimum of five NEWTs, and nothing under 'Exceeds Expectations' grade, I see. Then you would be required to identify which course you would be best suited to teach... I personally recommend Transfiguration," she added, winking in Charlie's direction to lighten the mood.

At this moment, Professor Umbridge gave a very tiny cough, as though she was trying to see how quietly she could do it. Professor McGonagall ignored her.

"Your grades are not an area of concern," she went on, talking a little louder than before. "I suggest you keep that up as you move forward. I would also advise —"

Professor Umbridge gave another cough, a little more audible this time, and Charlie tensed in his chair. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though nothing had happened.

"I would advise that you really consider your viable options regarding which subject you wish to teach in the future," she said briskly, with the merest flicker of a smile. "Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, or even Defence Against the Dark Arts would be best suited for you, in my person opinion —"

Professor Umbridge gave her most pronounced cough yet.

"May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?" Professor McGonagall asked curtly, without looking at Professor Umbridge.

"Oh, no, thank you very much," said Umbridge, with that simpering laugh Charlie hated so much. "I just wondered whether I could make the teensiest interruption, Minerva?"

"I daresay you'll find you can," said Professor McGonagall through tightly gritted teeth.

"I just wondering how this career path seems plausible in your mind. Mr. Hawthorne lacks respect for the educational system and the responsibility needed to be a teacher," said Professor Umbridge sweetly, and Charlie couldn't help but clench his jaw. "And surely that temperament wouldn't do him any good in the position."

"It's a good thing it's not your decision then, isn't it?" asked Professor McGonagall haughtily. She turned back to Charlie, continuing as though she hadn't been interrupted, "Well, Charles, if you are serious in this ambition, I would advise you focus on maintaining your grades in your upcoming OWLs. This shouldn't be trouble for you as your reports given over the last four years depict various grades between 'Outstanding' and 'Exceeds Expectations'. There is no doubt in my mind that — are you quite sure you wouldn't like a cough drop, Dolores?"

"Oh, no need, thank you, Minerva," simpered Professor Umbridge, who had just coughed her loudest yet. "I was just concerned that you may be giving Mr. Hawthorne false hope that —"

"'False hope?" repeated Professor McGonagall, still refusing to look round at Professor Umbridge. "He has proven to be one of the best students in his year, achieving high grades in all of his courses —"

"I'm terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Minerva, but as you will see from my report, Charles has been achieving very poor results in his classes with me —"

"I should have made my meaning plainer," said Professor McGonagall, turning at last to look Umbridge directly in the eyes. "He has achieved high marks in all courses set by a proficient teacher."

Professor Umbridge's smile vanished as suddenly as a light bulb blowing. She sat back in her chair, turned a sheet on her clipboard and began scribbling very fast indeed, her bulging eyes rolling from side to side. Professor McGonagall turned back to Charlie, her thin nostrils flared, her eyes burning.

"Any questions, Charles?"

"No," smirked Charlie, amused by McGonagall's response. "None right now, thank you."

"Very well then," beamed McGonagall, looking at Charlie with a wide smile as though he were her own grandson. "I daresay that, with your perseverance and dedication, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be incredibly fortunate to welcome you back as a member of our staff... if you choose to return, of course —"

"I think you'll find," said Umbridge, her voice very cold now, "that this boy has as much chance of becoming a Professor as Dumbledore has of ever returning to this school."

"A very good chance, then," smirked Professor McGonagall, winking in Charlie's direction.

Professor Umbridge stood up. She was so short that this did not make a great deal of difference, but her fussy, simpering demeanour had given place to a hard fury that made her broad, flabby face look oddly sinister.

"Mr. Hawthorne has no chance whatsoever of becoming a teacher at Hogwarts!"

Professor McGonagall got to her feet, too, and in her case this was a much more impressive move: she towered over Professor Umbridge.

"Charles," she said in ringing tones, "I will assist you to become a Professor if it is the last thing I do! Rest assured, even if I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results!"

"From a Headmistress standpoint, I can say with the utmost certainty that I would never employ Charlie Hawthorne," spat Umbridge, her voice rising furiously.

"Contrary to your belief, I see no issue with that whatsoever," shouted Professor McGonagall, "because the fact of the matter is, Dolores, you'll be long gone by the time Hawthorne is ready to join our ranks."

"Aha!" shrieked Professor Umbridge, pointing a stubby linger at McGonagall. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That's what you want, isn't it, Minerva McGonagall? You want to replace me, don't you?! You want Fenwick Hawthorne to be replaced by Albus Dumbledore! And then you'll become Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!"

"You are raving," said Professor McGonagall, superbly disdainful. "Charles, that concludes our careers consultation."

Without having to be told twice, Charlie swung his bag over his shoulder and hurried out of the room, not daring to look at Professor Umbridge. He could hear her and Professor McGonagall continuing to shout at each other all the way back along the corridor, and he couldn't help but smile to himself; McGonagall's humour was unmatched.

(A/N: had to include this scene because it's hilarious lol)

Charlie's was spinning with thoughts as he left McGonagall's office. The idea of life after Hogwarts seemed so far away, but he realized that it wasn't long before it would all be over...

Lost in thought, Charlie was halfway along the corridor outside when he heard the unmistakeable sounds of a diversion going off in the distance. There were screams and yells reverberating from somewhere above him; people exiting the classrooms all around Charlie, were stopping in their tracks to look up at the ceiling fearfully —

Fred and George, Charlie thought with an amused smile, what have you done now?

Umbridge came pelting out of McGonagall's office as fast as her short legs could carry her. Pulling out her wand, she hurried off in the opposite direction. Curiously, Charlie followed the commotion, ready to stall Umbridge to buy Harry more time in her office.

Hitching his bag over his shoulder, Charlie set off at a run, weaving in and out of students now hurrying in the his direction to see what all the fuss was about in the east wing. There was a great deal of shouting and movement coming from the Entrance Hall. Charlie ran down the marble staircase and found what looked like most of the school assembled there.

It was just like the night when Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring (some of them, Charlie noticed, covered in a substance that looked very like Stinksap); teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down at Fred and George who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakeable look of two people who had just been cornered.

"So!" shouted Umbridge triumphantly. Charlie realised she was standing just a few stairs in front of him, looking down upon her prey. "So — you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear.

Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge through the crowd of students, almost crying with happiness.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment that, Charlie assumed, was Educational Decree Number Twenty-Nine. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting... oh please, let me do it now..."

"Very good, Argus," she beamed, praising the caretaker for his work. "You two," she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what?" said Fred, smirking slightly. "I don't think we are."

He turned to his twin.

"You know what George?" asked Fred, and Charlie could practically see a plan form in the ginger's head, "I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"You know Fred," began George lightly, "I've been thinking exactly the same thing."

Fred smiled, "Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?"

"Definitely," affirmed George, and the brothers smiled towards one another.

Before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together:

"Accio Brooms!"

Charlie heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to his left, he ducked just in time. Fred and George's broomsticks were hurtling along the corridor towards their owners; they turned left, streaked down the stairs and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the crowd awed loudly as realization swept the room.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own.

Fred looked around at the assembled students.

"It anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley — Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwart's students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And Peeves, who Charlie had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

——————————————————

The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Charlie could tell it would soon become a Hogwart's legend. Within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors.

Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success.

Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Charlie was certain that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.

But not even Wildfire Whiz-Bangs could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart.

Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice he shut Mrs. Norris inside a suit of armour, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. Peeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows; flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. In fact, a week after Fred and George's departure, Charlie witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "It unscrews the other way."

To cap matters, Mrs. Weasley had heard of her son's departure from Hogwarts, and was naturally, less than thrilled. The question on everyone's mind was as to where Fred and George obtained the money to purchase a property in Diagon Alley:

"It's a bit dodgy, isn't it?" said Ron, moving his food around his plate one morning as the core four gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast. "They would've needed loads of Galleons to afford to rent a place in Diagon Alley. Mum'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that sort of gold."

"You know, that occurred to me too," admitted Hermione, setting her copy of the Daily Prophet on the table in front of her. "I was wondering whether they've been persuaded to sell stolen goods or something awful."

"They haven't," dismissed Charlie nonchalantly, thinking nothing of it.

Ron's brows furrowed across the table, "And how would you know?"

"Because..." Charlie hesitated, the moment to confess finally seemed to have come. He looked to Harry, who nodded in approval, and sighed. There was no good to be gained in keeping silent if it meant anyone suspected that Fred and George were criminals. "Because they got the gold from me and Harry. We gave them our Triwizard winnings last June."

There was a shocked silence, then Hermione crumpled the newspaper with her hands in disbelief.

"Please tell me you're joking," she said to Charlie specifically, and he simply shrugged.

"It's not a big deal," laughed Harry, bringing his pumpkin juice to his lips. "We don't need the money and, quite frankly, they'll be great at running a joke shop."

"This is brilliant!" beamed Ron, looking thrilled. "Now Mum can't blame me! Can I tell her?"

"Yeah, I suppose you'd better," said Harry dully, "Especially if she thinks they're receiving stolen cauldrons or something."

Silence fell over the table once again; the four of them indulging in the various breakfast foods that Hogwarts had to offer. The topic of Fred and George's departure had been exhausted, and now curiosity fell upon Harry and his Occlumency lessons.

"So Harry, are you going to go back to Snape and ask for more Occlumency lessons?" inquired Hermione, eyeing the boy curiously from across the table. "I think you should. Especially since Charlie told me you were muttering in your sleep again last night."

Harry threw a furious look in Charlie's direction. Immediately, a look of shame had bestowed upon Charlie's face; he shared everything with Hermione, he couldn't help it —

"Sorry mate," he said apologetically. "But you were muttering a bit last night."

"I didn't hear anything," muttered Ron, looking perplexed.

"Not surprising, given your horrendous snoring," sighed Charlie, and he saw Ron's grip tighten around his fork. Smirking to himself, Charlie turned back to Harry, adding, "You didn't say much. Something about 'just a bit further'."

"I dreamed I was watching Ron play Quidditch," Harry lied brutally, and he turned to the ginger to explain further, "I was trying to get you to stretch out a bit further to grab the Quaffle."

Ron's ears went red. Harry felt a kind of vindictive pleasure; he had not, of course, dreamed anything of the sort. In fact, his dream was the same one about the corridor in the Department of Mysteries.

"You know," began Ron, whose ears were still flaming red, "we might be in with a chance of winning the Cup. I mean, we've won one, lost one — if Slytherin lose to Hufflepuff next Saturday —"

"Yeah, I s'pose so," agreed Harry, glad of a change of subject.

"I guess," shrugged Charlie, losing track of the conversation as the owl post began to swoop down from the ceiling. He tensed as packages and letter began to land on the table around him.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked him in a whisper, immediately noticing his sudden change in mood. She put her hand on his soothingly, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb.

"Yeah, fine," muttered Charlie, trying his very best at sounding convincing. Hermione nodded, very reluctantly, and turned her head back towards her breakfast.

The truth of the matter; Charlie was scared more than ever. The revelation of his and Hermione's relationship would have definitely reached the Minister's office by now, and yet his father had seemingly no response. The additional suspense made things worse for Charlie.

He dreaded opening any package, letter, or parcel delivered from Umbridge's screening process, even if it had been something from Mrs. Weasley. Charlie's paranoia had even begun to take a toll on his relationship with Hermione as he tried his damnedest to not get caught up, and thus, let his guard down.

Deep down, he was almost certain that his father knew by now, which is why silence became a terrifying sound in the back of Charlie's mind. He felt like someone waiting for absolution... and yet, it never seemed to come.

——————————————————

The last week of May came at a lightening pace. Today had been the day of the final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor were not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course nobody said it to him) to Ron's abysmal goal-keeping record.

In all honesty, Charlie had been dreading the match. Quidditch wasn't nearly as fun to watch as it was to play, and not to mention, he had no interest in watching Ron ruin Gryffindor's chances. In fact, Hermione and Harry had to practically drag him along, insisting that they wouldn't let him be the only one of Gryffindor House that wasn't showing the utmost support.

"It'll all work out, I'm sure," said Hermione, as she, Charlie, and Harry walked down to the pitch in the midst of a very excitable crowd, "I mean, Ron can't get any worse, can he?"

Charlie shoved his hands in his pockets, muttering disapprovingly, "Knowing Ron, it's bloody likely."

(A/N: Charlie is the founder of OADRBW lmfao)

Luckily, before Hermione had the chance to scold her boyfriend for being so negative, Luna Lovegood overtook them with what appeared to be a live eagle perched on top of her head.

"D'you think she has a hat for every House?" sniggered Harry, watching the eagle flapping its wings as Luna walked serenely past a group of cackling and pointing Slytherins. "What d'you reckon the Hufflepuff hat looks like?"

Laughing, the three of them found seats in the topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, windy day; perfect from Qudditch, and Charlie found himself hoping against hope that Ron would not give the Slytherins cause for more rousing choruses of 'Weasley is our King'.

Lee Jordan, who had been very dispirited since Fred and George had left, was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out on to the pitch he named the players with something less than his usual gusto.

"And they're off," he said unenthusiastically as the players set off. "And Davies takes the Quaffle immediately, Ravenclaw Captain Davies with the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell... he's going straight for goal! He's going to shoot — and — and —" Lee swore very loudly. "And he's scored."

Charlie, Harry and Hermione groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. Predictably, the Slytherins on the other side of the stands began to sing:

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring!

"Char," whispered a hoarse voice in Charlie's ear. "Hermione... Harry."

Charlie looked round and saw Hagrid's enormous bearded face sticking between the seats. Apparently, he had squeezed his way all along the row behind, for the first- and second-years he had just passed had a ruffled, flattened look about them. For some reason, Hagrid was bent double as though anxious not to be seen, though he was still at least four feet taller than everybody else.

"Listen," he whispered, "can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?"

"Er... can't it wait, Hagrid?" asked Harry, one eye on Hagrid and the other on the match. "Till the match is over?"

"No," pleaded Hagrid, and his voice caught Charlie's attention instantly. "No, Harry, it's gotta be now... while ev'ryone's lookin' the other way... please?"

Hagrid's nose was gently dripping blood. His eyes were both blackened. Charlie had not seen him this close-up since his return to the school; he looked utterly miserable.

"Course," said Charlie at once, and Hermione nodded along with him, "lets go."

Charlie, Harry, and Hermione edged back along their row of seats, causing much grumbling among the students who had to stand up for them. The people in Hagrid's row were not complaining, merely attempting to make themselves as small as possible.

"I 'ppreciate this, you three, I really do," grumbled Hagrid as they reached the stairs. He kept looking around nervously as they descended towards the lawn below. "I jus' hope she doesn' notice us goin'."

"You mean Umbridge?" asked Harry, raising a brow. "She won't, she's got her whole Inquisitorial Squad sitting with her, didn't you see? She must be expecting trouble at the match."

"Yeah, well, a bit o' trouble wouldn' hurt," said Hagrid, pausing to peer around the edge of the stands to make sure the stretch of lawn between there and his cabin was deserted. "Give us more time."

"What is it, Hagrid?" inquired Hermione, looking up at him with a concerned expression on her face as they hurried across the grass towards the edge of the Forest.

"Y-Yeh'll see in a mo'," whispered Hagrid, looking over his shoulder as a great roar rose from the stands behind them. "Hey — did someone jus' score?"

Charlie sighed, muttering heavily, "It'll be Ravenclaw."

"Good... good..." said Hagrid distractedly. "Tha's good..."

They had to jog to keep up with him as he strode across the lawn, looking around with every other step. When they reached his cabin, Hermione turned automatically left towards the front door. Hagrid, however, walked straight past it into the shade of the trees on the outermost edge of the Forest, where he picked up a crossbow that was leaning against a tree. When he realised they were no longer with him, he turned.

"We're goin' in here," he said, jerking his shaggy head behind him.

"Into the Forest?" said Hermione, perplexed as she stood next to Charlie.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, thinking nothing of it. "C'mon now, quick, before we're spotted!"

The three young Gryffindors shared a concerned look, then ducked into the cover of the trees behind Hagrid, who was already striding away from them into the green gloom, his crossbow over his arm. Charlie, Harry, and Hermione ran to catch up with him; Hermione had interlocked her hand with Charlie's so she wouldn't fall behind.

Charlie gulped at the sight of the weapon in the half-giant's hands, and asked an obvious question, "Hagrid, what's with the crossbow?"

"Jus' a precaution," said Hagrid, shrugging his massive shoulders.

Hermione's eyes widened, her hand gripping Charlie's nervously, as she whispered timidly, "Precaution for what?"

"The centaurs are good an' riled at me," explained Hagrid darkly, glancing around. "They used ter be — well, yeh couldn' call 'em friendly — but we got on all righ'. Kept 'emselves to 'emselves, bu' always turned up if I wanted a word. Not any more."

Charlie, Harry, and Hermione looked at each other, startled, but Hagrid, scowling, did not elaborate.

"So is that why we're here?" Harry asked, tripping on a protruding root because he was busy watching Hagrid's profile. "The centaurs?"

"Ah, no," gulped Hagrid, shaking his head dismissively, "no, it's not them. Well, o' course, they could complicate the problem, yeah... but yeh'll see what I mean in a bit."

On this incomprehensible note he fell silent and forged a little ahead, taking one stride for every three of theirs, so that they had great trouble keeping up with him.

The path was becoming increasingly overgrown and the trees grew so closely together as they walked further and further into the Forest that it was as dark as dusk. They were soon a long way past the clearing, but Charlie felt no sense of unease until Hagrid stepped unexpectedly off the path and began wending his way in and out of trees towards the dark heart of the Forest.

"Hagrid!" shouted Charlie, leading the way through thickly knotted brambles, over which Hagrid had stepped with ease. "Where are we going?"

"Bit further," called Hagrid over his shoulder. "C'mon... we need ter keep together now."

It was a great struggle to keep up with Hagrid, what with branches and thickets of thorn through which Hagrid marched as easily as if they were cobwebs, but which snagged Charlie, Harry and Hermione's robes, frequently entangling them so severely that they had to stop for minutes at a time to free themselves.

"I don't like this," Hermione whispered to Charlie, hugging his arm now as they attempted to follow Hagrid into the gloom; Harry following behind expectedly.

"It's okay," Charlie cooed, turning to place a chaste kiss on the top of Hermione's head to reassure her. "Hagrid won't let anything happen to us."

With a heavy sigh, Hermione nodded and kept walking alongside Charlie and Harry into the depths of the Forest.

Any sound seemed threatening in the muffled silence. The breaking of a twig echoed loudly and the tiniest rustle of movement, even though it might have been made by an innocent sparrow, caused Charlie to peer through the gloom for a culprit. It occurred to him that he had never managed to get this far into the Forest without meeting some kind of creature; their absence struck him as rather ominous.

When it got hard to see through the darkness, Hermione asked, "Hagrid, would it be all right if we lit our wands?"

"Er... all righ'," Hagrid whispered back. "In fact —"

He stopped suddenly and turned around; Harry walked right into him and was knocked over backwards; Charlie caught him just before he hit the Forest floor.

"Maybe we bes' jus' stop fer a momen', so I can... fill yeh in," said Hagrid. "Before we ge' there."

"Good!" beamed Hermione, relieved as Charlie set Harry back on his feet. The three of them murmured, "Lumos", and their wand-tips ignited. Hagrid's face swam through the gloom by the light of the three wavering beams.

"Righ'," began Hagrid, looking incredibly nervous. "Well... see... the thing is..."

He took a great breath.

"Well, there's a good chance I'm goin' ter be gettin' the sack any day now," he continued with a heavy sigh.

Charlie, Harry, and Hermione looked at one another, confused as to why they had to be brought into the Forest for this conversation, before they looked back to Hagrid.

(A/N: side note — I like this trio better than the original golden trio oops)

"But you've lasted this long," Hermione said tentatively. "What makes you think —"

"Yeh know Umbridge's bin lookin' ter get rid of me ever since I got back," said Hagrid indignantly. "I don' wan' ter go, o' course, but if it wasn' fer... well... the special circumstances I'm abou' ter explain to yeh, I'd leave righ' now, before she's go' the chance ter do it in front o' the whole school, like she did with Trelawney."

The three Gryffindors made noises of protest, but Hagrid overrode them with a wave of one of his enormous hands.

"It's not the end o' the world, I'll be able ter help Dumbledore once I'm outta here, I can be useful ter the Order, an' you lot'll have Grubbly-Plank, yeh'll — yeh'll get through yer exams fine..."

His voice trembled and broke.

"Don' worry abou' me," he said hastily, as Harry made to pat his arm. He pulled his enormous spotted handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and mopped his eyes with it. "Look, I wouldn' be tellin' yer this at all if I didn' have ter. See, if I go... well, I can' leave withou'... withou' tellin' someone... because I-I'll need yeh three ter help me, an' Ron, if he's willin'.'

"Of course we'll help you," Charlie said at once. "What do you want us to do?"

Hagrid gave a great sniff and patted Harry wordlessly on the shoulder with such force that the boy with glasses was knocked sideways into a tree.

"I knew yeh'd say yes," said Hagrid into his handkerchief, "but I won'... never... forget... well... c'mon... jus' a little bit further through here... watch yerselves, now, there's nettles..."

They walked on in silence for another fifteen minutes; Charlie had opened his mouth to ask how much further they had to go when Hagrid threw out his right arm to signal that they should stop.

"Really easy," he said softly. "Very quiet, now..."

They crept forwards, and Charlie saw that they were facing a large, smooth mound of earth nearly as tall as Hagrid that he thought, with a jolt of dread, was sure to be the lair of some enormous animal.

Trees had been ripped up at the roots all around the mound, so that it stood on a bare patch of ground surrounded by heaps of trunks and boughs that formed a kind of fence or barricade, behind which Charlie, Harry, Hermione and Hagrid now stood.

"Sleepin'," breathed Hagrid.

Sure enough, Charlie could hear a distant, rhythmic rumbling that sounded like a pair of enormous lungs at work. He glanced sideways at Hermione, who was gazing at the mound with her mouth slightly open. She looked utterly terrified.

"Hagrid," she said in a whisper barely audible over the sound of the sleeping creature, "you told us none of them wanted to come!"

Charlie looked from his girlfriend to Hagrid and then, as realisation hit him, he looked back at the mound with a small gasp of horror.

The great mound of earth, on which he, Hermione, Harry and Hagrid could easily have stood, was moving slowly up and down in time with the deep, grunting breathing. It was not a mound at all. It was the curved back of what was clearly a giant.

"Well — no — he didn' want ter come," said Hagrid, sounding desperate. "But I had ter bring him, Hermione, I had ter!"

"But why?" asked Hermione, trembling as she hid behind Charlie's shoulder. "Oh, Hagrid!"

"I knew if I jus' got him back," said Hagrid, sounding close to tears himself, "an' — an' taught him a few manners — I'd be able ter take him outside an' show ev'ryone he's harmless!"

"Harmless!" shrieked Hermione shrilly, and Hagrid made frantic hushing noises with his hands as the enormous creature before them grunted loudly and shifted in its sleep. "He's been hurting you all this time, hasn't he? That's why you've had all these injuries!"

"He don' know his own strength!" said Hagrid earnestly. "An' he's gettin' better, he's not fightin' so much any more —"

"So, this is why it took you two months to get home!" whispered Hermione distractedly. "Oh, Hagrid, why did you bring him back if he didn't want to come? Wouldn't he have been happier with his own people?"

Hagrid shook his head vigorously, "They were all bullyin' him, Hermione, 'cause he's so small!"

"Small?" asked Harry in disbelief, looking at the creature in awe. "You're joking, right?"

"I couldn' leave him," mumbled Hagrid, tears now trickling down his bruised face into his beard. "See — he's my brother!"

Charlie simply stared at him, his mouth open.

"Hagrid, when you say 'brother'," he said slowly, "do you mean...?"

"Half brother, yes," amended Hagrid. "Turns out me mother took up with another giant when she left me dad, an' she went an' had Grawp here —"

Harry resisted the urge to snigger, "Grawp?"

"Yeah... well, tha's what it sounds like when he says his name," said Hagrid anxiously. "He don' speak a lot of English... I've bin tryin' ter teach him... anyway, she don' seem ter have liked him much more'n she liked me. See, with giantesses, what counts is producin' good big kids, and he's a bit on the runty side fer a giant — on'y sixteen foot —"

"Oh, yes, tiny!" exclaimed Hermione, with a kind of hysterical sarcasm. "Absolutely minuscule!"

"He was bein' kicked aroun' by all o' them — I jus' couldn' leave him —"

Charlie looked to Hagrid, raising a playfully accusing brow, "Did Madame Maxime want to bring him back?"

"W-Well, she could see it was right importan' ter me," explained Hagrid, twisting his enormous hands. "Bu' she got a bit tired o' him after a while, I must admit... so we split up on the journey home... she promised not ter tell anyone, though..."

Harry was still in awe, muttering, "How on earth did you get him back without anyone noticing?"

"Well, tha's why it took so long, see," gulped Hagrid. "Could on'y travel by nigh' an' through wild country an' stuff. Course, he covers the ground pretty well when he wants ter, but he kep' wantin' ter go back."

"Oh, Hagrid, why on earth didn't you let him!" shouted Hermione, groaning as she buried her head into her boyfriend's neck; Charlie wrapped a protective arm around her. "What do you think you're going to do with a violent giant who doesn't even want to be here?!"

"Well, now — 'violent' — tha's a bit harsh," frowned Hagrid, still twisting his hands agitatedly. "I'll admit he mighta taken a couple o' swings at me when he's bin in a bad mood, but he's gettin' better, loads better, settlin' down well."

Gesturing to the giant, Charlie asked, "What are those ropes for then?"

He was quick to notice ropes, thick as saplings, stretching from around the trunks of the largest nearby trees towards the place where Grawp lay curled on the ground with his back to them.

"You have to keep him tied up?" said Hermione faintly, leaning up off of Charlie get a better look.

"Well... yeah..." said Hagrid, looking anxious. "It's like I say... he doesn' really know 'is own strength."

Charlie understood now why there had been such a suspicious lack of any other living creature in this part of the Forest.

"So, what is it you want us to do with him?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Look after him," pleaded Hagrid croakily. "After I'm gone."

Charlie, Harry and Hermione exchanged miserable looks; Charlie was uncomfortably aware that he had already promised Hagrid that he would do whatever he asked.

"W-What does that involve, exactly?" Hermione inquired.

"Not food or anythin'!" beamed Hagrid eagerly. "He can get his own food, no problem. Birds an' deer an' stuff... no, it's company he needs. I jus' need someone ter carry on trying ter help him a bit... teachin' him, yeh know."

Charlie said nothing, but turned to look back at the gigantic form lying asleep on the ground in front of them. Unlike Hagrid, who looked like an oversized human, Grawp looked strangely misshapen.

Grawp's head was much larger in proportion to the body than a human head, and was almost perfectly round and covered with tightly curling, close-growing hair the colour of bracken. The rim of a single large, fleshy ear was visible on top of the head, which seemed to sit directly upon the shoulders with no neck in between. The back, under what looked like a dirty brownish smock comprised of animal skins sewn roughly together, was very broad; and as Grawp slept, it seemed to strain a little at the rough seams of the skins. The legs were curled up under the body. Charlie could see the soles of enormous, filthy, bare feet, large as sledges, resting one on top of the other on the earthy Forest floor.

Harry cut the silence with a hollow voice, reiterating, "You want us to teach him?"

"Yeah — even if yeh jus' talk ter him a bit," beamed Hagrid hopefully. "'Cause I reckon, if he can talk ter people, he'll understand more that we all like 'im really, an' want 'im ter stay."

Charlie turned his head to look down at Hermione, who instantly met his eyes.

"Kind of makes you wish we had Norbert back, doesn't it?" he whispered, trying to lighten the mood, and Hermione gave a very shaky laugh.

"Yeh'll do it, then?" asked Hagrid, who did not seem to have caught what Charlie had just said.

"Well..." muttered Charlie, already bound to his promise, "we'll try, Hagrid."

"I knew I could count on yeh, Char!" Hagrid said, beaming in a very watery way and dabbing at his face with his handkerchief again. "An' I don' wan' yeh ter put yerself out too much, like... I know yeh've got exams... if yeh could jus' nip down here in Harry's Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an' have a little chat with 'im. I'll wake 'im up, then —introduce yeh —"

"Wha— no!" shrieked Hermione, trembling in Charlie's arms. "Hagrid, no, don't wake him, really, we don't need —"

But Hagrid had already stepped over the great tree trunk in front of them and was proceeding towards Grawp. When he was about ten feet away, he lifted a long, broken bough from the ground, smiled reassuringly over his shoulder at Charlie, Harry and Hermione, then poked Grawp hard in the middle of the back.

The giant gave a roar that echoed around the silent Forest; birds in the treetops overhead rose twittering from their perches and soared away. In front of Charlie, Harry and Hermione, meanwhile, the gigantic Grawp was rising from the ground, which shuddered as he placed an enormous hand upon it to push himself on to his knees. He turned his head to see who and what had disturbed him.

"All righ', Grawpy?" asked Hagrid, in a would-be cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Grawp again. "Had a nice sleep, eh?"

The three Gryffindors retreated as far as they could while still keeping the giant within their sights. Grawp knelt between two trees he had not yet uprooted. His startlingly huge face resembled a grey full moon that swam in the gloom of the clearing. It was as though the features had been hewn on to a great stone ball. The nose was stubby and shapeless, the mouth lopsided and full of misshapen yellow teeth the size of half-bricks; the eyes, small by giant standards, were a muddy greenish-brown and just now were half-gummed together with sleep.

Grawp raised his dirty knuckles, each as big as a cricket ball, to his eyes, vigorously rubbing them and then, without warning, pushed himself to his feet with surprising speed and agility.

"Well, this can't be good," muttered Charlie, and Hermione squealed, terrified, in his arms.

The trees to which the other ends of the ropes around Grawp's wrists and ankles were attached creaked ominously. He was, as Hagrid had said, at least sixteen feet tall. Gazing blearily around, Grawp reached out a hand the size of a beach umbrella, seized a bird's nest from the upper branches of a towering pine and turned it upside-down with a roar of apparent displeasure that there was no bird in it; eggs fell like grenades towards the ground and Hagrid threw his arms over his head to protect himself.

"Anyway, Grawpy," shouted Hagrid, looking up apprehensively in case of further falling eggs, "I've brought some friends ter meet yeh. Remember, I told yeh I might? Remember, when I said I might have ter go on a little trip an' leave them ter look after yeh fer a bit? Remember that, Grawpy?"

But Grawp merely gave another low roar; it was hard to say whether he was listening to Hagrid or whether he even recognised the sounds Hagrid was making as words. He had now seized the top of the pine tree and was pulling it towards him, evidently for the simple pleasure of seeing how far it would spring back when he let go.

"Now, Grawpy, don' do that!" scolded Hagrid. "Tha's how you ended up pullin' up the others —"

And sure enough, Charlie could see the earth around the tree's roots beginning to crack.

"I got company for yeh!" Hagrid shouted, trying to catch the giant's attention. "Company, see! Look down, yeh big buffoon, I brought yeh some friends!"

"Oh, Hagrid, don't," groaned Hermione, but Hagrid had already raised the bough again and gave Grawp's knee a sharp poke.

The giant let go of the top of the tree, which swayed alarmingly and deluged Hagrid with a rain of pine needles, and looked down.

"This," said Hagrid, hastening over to where the Gryffindors stood, "is Harry, Grawp!" Harry gave a little awkward wave as Hagrid moved along to Charlie, "and tha' there is Charlie. Say hi to Char, Grawpy! They migh' be comin' ter visit yeh if I have ter go away, understand?"

The giant had only just realised that Charlie, Harry and Hermione were there. They watched, in great trepidation, as he lowered his huge boulder of a head so that he could peer blearily at them.

"An' this is Hermione, see? Her—" Hagrid hesitated. Turning to Hermione, he said, "Would yeh mind if he called yeh Hermy, Hermione? On'y it's a difficult name fer him ter remember."

"No, not at all," squeaked Hermione.

"This is Hermy, Grawp! An' she's gonna be comin' an' all! Is'n' tha' nice? Eh? Three friends fer yeh ter — GRAWPY, NO!"

Grawp's hand had shot out of nowhere towards Hermione. Acting quickly, Charlie seized her and pulled her backwards behind the tree, so that Grawp's fist scraped the trunk but closed on thin air; Harry, who was incredibly startled, cowered behind the tree as well.

"BAD BOY, GRAWPY!" they heard Hagrid yelling, as Hermione clung to Charlie behind the tree, shaking and whimpering. "VERY BAD BOY! YEH DON' GRAB — OUCH!"

Harry poked his head out from around the trunk and saw Hagrid lying on his back, his hand over his nose. Grawp, apparently losing interest, had straightened up and was again engaged in pulling back the pine as far as it would go.

"I think you've got yourself an admirer, 'Mione," sniggered Harry, slightly amused.

"Can you believe that?" huffed Charlie sarcastically, adding to the joke. "Right in front of me! I mean, at least have the decency to do it when I'm not around." Trying to make her laugh, Charlie leaned down, nudging Hermione with his nose adorably, "What d'you reckon? I think I could take him."

As Charlie had hoped, Hermione stopped trembling and instead, cuddled further into his chest, giggling lightly against it.

"Righ'," said Hagrid thickly, holding his bleeding nose as he joined the three of the them around the tree. "Well, I reckon tha's enough fer one day. We'll back now, shall we?"

Charlie, Harry and Hermione all nodded simultaneously. Hagrid shouldered his crossbow again and, still pinching his nose, led the way back into the trees.

Nobody spoke for a while, not even when they heard the distant crash that meant Grawp had pulled over the pine tree at last. Charlie held Hermione tightly as he guided her through the trees, following in Hagrid's huge footsteps. He had to admit, there was a part of himself that he wished hadn't promised that he, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would continue Hagrid's totally pointless attempts to civilise the giant.

How could Hagrid, even with his immense capacity to delude himself that fanged monsters were loveably harmless, fool himself that Grawp would ever be fit to mix with humans?

"Hold it," said Hagrid abruptly, just as Charlie, Harry and Hermione were struggling through a patch of thick knotgrass behind him. He pulled an arrow out of the quiver over his shoulder and fitted it into the crossbow. Charlie, Harry and Hermione raised their wands; now that they had stopped walking, they, too, could hear movement close by.

"Oh, blimey," grunted Hagrid quietly.

"I thought we told you, Hagrid," said a deep male voice, "that you are no longer welcome here?"

A man's naked torso seemed for an instant to be floating towards them through the dappled green half-light; then they saw that his waist joined smoothly into a horse's chestnut body. This centaur had a proud, high-cheekboned face and long black hair. Like Hagrid, he was armed; a quiverful of arrows and a longbow were slung over his shoulders.

"How are yeh, Magorian?" asked Hagrid warily.

The trees behind the centaur rustled, and five more centaurs emerged behind him; Charlie was immediately reminded of being surrounded by Aragog and his army of spiders during second year.

"You have made a mistake, Hagrid," said Magorian darkly. "Coming back into our Forest when we warned you —"

"Now, yeh listen ter me," growled Hagrid angrily. "I'll have less of the 'our' Forest, if it's all the same ter yeh. It's not up ter yeh who comes an' goes in here —"

"No more is it up to you, Hagrid," retaliated Magorian smoothly. "I shall let you pass today because you are accompanied by your young foals — we do not harm the innocent. Today, Hagrid, you pass. Henceforth, stay away from this place."

"I won' be kept outta the Fores' by a bunch o' old mules like yeh!" shouted Hagrid loudly.

"Hagrid," pleaded Hermione in a high-pitched and terrified voice, as centaurs began to paw at the ground, "let's go, please let's go!"

Hagrid moved forwards, but his crossbow was still raised and his eyes were still fixed threateningly upon Magorian.

"We know what you are keeping in the Forest, Hagrid!" Magorian called after them, as the centaurs slipped out of sight. "And our tolerance is waning!"

Hagrid turned and gave every appearance of wanting to walk straight back to Magorian.

"Yeh'll tolerate 'im as long as he's here, it's as much his Forest as yours!" he yelled, as Charlie, Harry and Hermione pushed with all their might against Hagrid's moleskin waistcoat in an effort to keep him moving forwards. Still scowling, he looked down; his expression changed to mild surprise at the sight of them pushing him; he seemed not to have felt it.

"Calm down, you three," he said, turning to walk on while they parted along behind him. "Ruddy old mules, though, eh?"

"Hagrid," sighed Hermione breathlessly, skirting the patch of nettles they had passed on their way there, "if the centaurs don't want humans in the Forest, it doesn't really look as though Charlie, Harry and I will be able —"

"Ah, you heard what they said," said Hagrid dismissively, "they wouldn't hurt foals — I mean, kids. Anyway, we can' let ourselves be pushed aroun' by that lot."

"Nice try," Charlie murmured to Hermione with a slight smirk, but she simply looked crestfallen.

At last they rejoined the path and, after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin; they were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting.

"Was that another goal?" asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. "Or d'yeh reckon the match is over?"

"Who cares?" muttered Charlie miserably; his hair was full of twigs and leaves, and he tried his hardest to shake his hair loose.

"I reckon it's over, yeh know!" beamed Hagrid, still squinting towards the stadium. "Look — there's people comin' out already — if yeh three hurry yeh'll be able ter blend in with the crowd an' no one'll know yeh weren't there!"

"Good idea," nodded Harry, edging towards the crowd. "Well... see you later, then, Hagrid."

"I don't believe him," said Hermione in a very unsteady voice, the moment they were out of earshot of Hagrid. "I don't believe him. I really don't believe him."

"Calm down," cooed Charlie softly, as he rubbed her arm consolingly.

"Calm down?!" she said feverishly, looking at her boyfriend in disbelief. "A giant! A giant in the Forest! And we're supposed to give him English lessons! Assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I — don't — believe — him!"

"We haven't got to do anything yet!" Harry tried to reassure her in a quiet voice, as they joined a stream of jabbering Hufflepuffs heading back towards the castle. "He's not asking us to do anything unless he gets chucked out and that might not even happen."

"Oh, come off it, Harry!" said Hermione angrily, stopping dead in her tracks so that the people behind had to swerve to avoid her. "Of course he's going to be chucked out and, to be perfectly honest, after what we've just seen, who can blame Umbridge?"

There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears.

"You didn't mean that," said Harry quietly.

"No... well... all right... I didn't," she said, wiping her eyes angrily. "But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself — for us?"

Charlie shrugged, "Part of his charm, I reckon."

Weasley is our King!
Weasley is our King!
He didn't let the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.

"I wish they'd stop singing that stupid song," sighed Hermione miserably, "haven't they gloated enough?"

A great tide of students was moving up the sloping lawns from the pitch.

Weasley can save anything,
He never leaves a single ring,
That's why Gryffindors all sing:
Weasley is our King!

"Wait..." said Harry slowly, stopping in his tracks.

The song was growing louder, but it was issuing not from a crowd of green-and-silver Slytherins, but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly towards the castle, bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders.

Weasley is our King!
Weasley is our King!
He didn't let the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King!

Charlie shook his head in disbelief, his eyes wide, "There's no way..."

"YES!" said Harry loudly upon realization.

"HARRY! HERMIONE! CHARLIE!" yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. "WE DID IT! WE WON!"

They beamed up at him as he passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the Entrance Hall and out of sight. Charlie, Harry and Hermione watched them go, beaming, until the last echoing strains of 'Weasley is our King' died away. Then they turned to each other, their smiles fading.

"We'll save our news till tomorrow, shall we?" suggested Harry, not wanting to spoil his friend's fun.

"Yes, all right," agreed Hermione wearily. "I'm not in any hurry."

Charlie nodded, "Sounds good to me."

They climbed the steps together, but at the front doors, the three of them instinctively looked back at the Forbidden Forest.

Whether or not it was his imagination, Charlie was unsure, but he rather thought he saw a small cloud of birds erupting into the air over the tree tops in the distance, almost as though the tree in which they had been nesting had just been pulled up by the roots.

———————————————————

Ron's euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch cup was such that he couldn't settle to anything next day. All he wanted to do was talk over the match, and so it was very difficult to find an opening in which to mention Grawp.

As it was another fine, warm day, however, Charlie, Harry, and Hermione persuaded Ron to join them in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the lake, where they had less chance of being overheard than in the common room.

They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.

"He looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop," explained Ron slowly, as though he were reliving the moment in his head, "but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left, then well — you saw what happened."

Ron unnecessarily swept his hair back so that it looked interestingly windswept. He glanced towards Hermione, interested in her reaction. He frowned, however, when Hermione let out a heavy sigh.

"Well, actually... no, Ron," she whispered quietly putting down her book and looking at him apologetically. "As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match we saw was Ravenclaw's first goal."

Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment. "You didn't watch?" he said faintly, looking from one to the other. "You didn't see me make any of those saves?"

"We wanted to, mate... really we did," said Harry, frowning. "But we had to leave."

"Yeah?" inquired Ron, whose face was growing rather red. "How come?"

"It was Hagrid," Charlie explained softly, shrugging. "He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway..."

The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity.

"He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?"

"Yep," said Harry grimly.

"No," dismissed Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. "No, he can't have."

"Well, he has," sighed Hermione firmly. "Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me," she snorted, "as Hermy."

"He's lost his mind," said Ron in an almost awed voice.

"Yes," said Hermione irritably, turning a page of Intermediate Transfiguration and glaring at a series of diagrams showing an owl turning into a pair of opera glasses. "Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made us promise."

"Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all," said Ron firmly. "I mean, come on... we've got exams! Besides... remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Have we ever come off better for mixing with any of Hagrid's monster mates?"

Charlie sighed heavily, his voice firm as he reiterated, "We promised Hagrid."

Ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied.

"Well," he sighed, "He hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all."

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last.

Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the OWLs from Charlie's mind —

As it turns out, having a girlfriend who was so academically advanced made studying a whole lot entertaining for Charlie. Every evening, he would meet Hermione in the library for last minute revision. They had developed this rewards-based system which consisted of Charlie answering one of Hermione's questions correctly, and then he'd receive a kiss in return.

This proved to not be as effective as one could imagine, however, as Charlie and Hermione often found themselves so caught up with one another that they would snog for hours when they should've been using the time for some much-needed studying; they just couldn't help themselves.

In one of their finals Transfiguration lessons before their exams, they received their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs.

"As you can see," Professor McGonagall told the class as they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, "your OWLs are spread over two consecutive weeks. That being said, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbour at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor."

"Please, Professor," said Hermione, her hand in the air, "when will we find out our results?"

Professor McGonagall smiled, "An owl will be sent to you some time in July."

"Excellent," sniggered Charlie in an audible whisper, "we don't have to worry about it till the summer."

The night before their first exam, Charms, an intense silence filled the Gryffindor common room. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute revising but nobody seemed to be getting very far.

Charlie tested a very agitated Hermione with Achievements in Charming; Harry and Ron were reading two years' worth of Charms notes with their fingers in their ears, lips moving soundlessly; Seamus Finnigan was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practising basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table.

None of the fifth-years talked very much at breakfast next day, either: Parvati was practicing incantations under her breath while the salt shaker in front of her twitched; Hermione was rereading Achievements in Charming so fast that her eyes appeared blurred; and Neville kept dropping his knife and fork and knocking over the marmalade.

Once breakfast was over, the fifth- and seventh-years milled around in the Entrance Hall while the other students went off to lessons; then, at half past nine, they were called forwards class by class to re-enter the Great Hall, which had been rearranged for their examinations; the four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing them.

When they were all seated and quiet, she said, "You may begin," and turned over an enormous hour-glass on the desk beside her, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles and rolls of parchment.

Charlie turned over his paper, his heart thumping hard — three rows to his right and four seats ahead Hermione was already scribbling — and lowered his eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly.

Smiling to himself, Charlie had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll... he bent over the paper and began to write.

"Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?" asked Hermione anxiously in the Entrance Hall two hours later, still clutching the exam paper. "I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs? I wasn't sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much — and on question twenty-three —"

"Hermione," scolded Ron sternly, "we've been through this before... we're not going through every exam afterwards, it's bad enough doing them once."

His exam, Charlie thought, had went well. There was no time to relax that night, however; they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day.

That's how the next two weeks went for the fifth- and seventh-year students at Hogwarts. The Herbology exam was on Wednesday, then, on Thursday, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Friday was Ancient Runes, followed by Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Arithmancy, and finally, History of Magic, throughout the next week.

His Astronomy exam, however, left Charlie feeling incredibly uneasy. When the fifth-years reached the top of the Astronomy Tower at eleven o'clock, they found a perfect night for stargazing; cloudless and still. The grounds were bathed in silvery moonlight and there was a slight chill in the air. Each of them set up his or her telescope and, when Professor Marchbanks gave the word, proceeded to fill in the blank star-chart they had been given.

All was quiet except for the rustle of parchment, the occasional creak of a telescope as it was adjusted on its stand, and the scribbling of many quills. Half an hour passed, then an hour; the little squares of reflected gold light flickering on the: ground below started to vanish as lights in the castle windows were extinguished.

As Charlie completed the constellation Orion on his chart, the front doors of the castle opened directly below the parapet where he was standing, so that light spilled down the stone steps a little way across the lawn. Charlie glanced down as he made a slight adjustment to the position of his telescope, and saw five or six elongated shadows moving over the brightly lit grass before the doors swung shut, the lawn becoming a sea of darkness once more.

Charlie put his eye back to the telescope and refocused it, now examining Venus. He looked down at his chart, but something distracted him; pausing with his quill suspended over the parchment, he squinted down into the shadowy grounds and saw half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. Even at this distance, Charlie had a funny feeling he recognised the walk of the squattest of them, who seemed to be leading the group; Professor Dolores Umbridge.

With a loud knock heard in the distance, accompanied by the muffled barking of a large dog, Charlie's heart hammered, and he forgot for a moment that he was in the middle of an exam.

There were lights on in Hagrid's windows and the people he had observed crossing the lawn were now silhouetted against them. The door opened and he distinctly saw six sharply defined figures walk over the threshold. The door closed again and there was silence.

Charlie glanced around, wanting to know if his friends had witnessed what he had, but quickly scolded himself for doing so in the middle of his exam. Charlie hastily bent over his star-chart and pretended to be adding notes to it while really peering over the top of the parapet towards Hagrid's cabin. Figures were now moving across the cabin windows, temporarily blocking the light.

Again, there was a roar from the distant cabin that echoed through the darkness moving along to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Several of the people around Charlie ducked out from behind their telescopes and peered in the direction of Hagrid's cabin.

Charlie looked to his left. Hermione was gazing transfixed at Hagrid's cabin. She turned, meeting his gaze, and the two subconsciously panicked.

"Ahem — twenty minutes to go," Professor Marchbanks called out.

Hermione jumped and returned at once to her star-chart; Charlie looked down at his own and noticed that he had mis-labelled Venus as Mars. He bent to correct it.

BANG!

Almost instantly, Charlie hastened to see what was going on below. Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin he saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.

Hermione shrieked, "No!"

"My dear!" gasped Professor Marchbanks in a scandalized voice, "This is an examination!"

But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and still, as far as Charlie could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, "Be reasonable, Hagrid!"

Hagrid roared, "Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!"

Charlie could see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping repeatedly at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he fell to the ground. Hagrid gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. Hermione gasped, both hands over her mouth; Charlie looked round at Harry and Ron, both of them looking scared; none of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before.

"COWARDS!" bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT —"

Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold. Charlie saw Hagrid double over, and thought he had finally been overcome by a spell. But, on the contrary, Hagrid was standing again; he deflected the spell completely thanks to his giant-blood.

"Get him! Get him!" screamed Umbridge but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over.

Hagrid began to run, but Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him. Luckily, it missed, and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.

There was a long minute's quivering silence as everybody gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then the Professor's voice called feebly, "Um... five minutes to go, everybody."

Though he had filled in the rest of his chart based off of a distant memory, Charlie was desperate for the exam to end. When it came at last he, Harry, Ron and Hermione forced their telescopes haphazardly back into their holders and dashed back down the spiral staircase.

"That evil woman!" gasped Hermione, who seemed to be having difficulty talking due to rage. "Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night! And in the middle of our exam?!"

They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Charlie, Harry, Ron and Hermione, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

"But why sack Hagrid now?" asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. "He's been teaching much better than usual this year!"

"Umbridge hates part-humans," muttered Charlie bitterly, flopping down into an armchair. "She was always going to try and get Hagrid out."

As late as it may have been, Charlie felt wide awake; the image of Hagrid sprinting away into the dark was haunting him. The room was too chaotic for anyone to notice his somber state... well except for his girlfriend, of course. Hermione joined her boyfriend, sitting on his lap as his arms wrapped around her.

She kissed his forehead, brushing the hair out of his distressed face as she whispered, "It'll be okay, I promise."

Charlie appreciated Hermione's attempt to lift his spirits. He leaned up to kiss her lips gently. People around them were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen.

"At least they didn't take Hagrid to Azkaban," Charlie muttered thankfully, and Hermione nodded reassuringly. "He'll probably go join my grandfather."

"That's right," affirmed Hermione, placing light kisses all over her boyfriend's face. Charlie sighed contently, resting his head against Hermione, and the two of them remained cuddled up for another hour or so.

It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Charlie had trouble falling asleep that night as anger for Dolores Umbridge pulsed in his veins. He could not think of a punishment bad enough for her. He fell asleep contemplating hideous revenges and arose from bed three hours later feeling distinctly unrested.

Their final exam, History of Magic, did not take place until the afternoon. The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination papers. Charlie was exhausted. His eyes stung and watered at the sight of the blazing white parchment.

Despite his exhaustion, Charlie found himself answering the questions with ease. When the exam had finished, everyone was relieved. They had all successfully completed their OWLs. With a whole weekend free of revision, the Gryffindors permitted themselves to a social gathering in celebration.

The common room was filled with raving students, music blaring loudly. Moving around without knocking into someone else was nearly impossible. Charlie tramped across the room warily, dodging several unsteady pairs of feet in the process. People were dancing mindlessly, drinking Butterbeer, and even snogging in the corners of the room; it was completely chaotic.

Charlie spotted Hermione, who was in the middle of a conversation with Parvati and Lavender, across the room. She looked absolutely ravishing; her hair was tied up and she wore a short, black dress.

Hermione caught her boyfriend staring from his spot next to Harry and Ron, and she giggled to herself. She sent him a cheeky wink as she brought her cup to her lips, beckoning him over. Charlie's heart beat increased with anticipation as he made his through the crowd towards her.

He was stopped, however, as his body collided with a panicked Neville, who was staring at him with wide eyes. Neville look disheveled as though he had spent his entire night looking for someone.

"What's up, Nev?" inquired Charlie over the music, growing immediately alarmed at his friend's tensed state.

"I've been looking for you! Merlin, where have you been?" Neville said to Charlie, his voice nervously squeaky. When Charlie furrowed his brows, Neville pressed on, "Umbridge dropped off a letter for you."

Charlie's heart sank. His head faded in and out of reality upon hearing those words leave Neville's lips. Silence overcame him despite the raging party going on, and Charlie froze.

"A letter?" he gulped. "From who?"

"She didn't say," shrugged Neville apologetically. "All she said was that it was very important it got to you — I left it on your nightstand. You know, I think it might be from your father. Congratulating you on finishing your exams maybe?"

"Yeah... maybe," Charlie released a shaky breath, and an immediate fear swelled inside him. "Thanks Neville."

"No problem, mate," beamed Neville, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he shuffled back through the crowd, disappearing presumably to find Dean and Seamus.

Charlie was breathing excruciatingly slow, knots were forming in his throat. His airways were tightening, giving him horrific déjà vu to the feeling of his father's hands around his neck.

From across the room, Hermione searched for her boyfriend amongst the crowd once again; she was confused when he hadn't arrived at her side. She found him, and despite the people around him that were dancing feverishly, Charlie was motionless.

As she caught sight of Charlie's pale face, looking as though he had just seen a ghost, Hermione grew alarmed. She turned her head towards Parvati and Lavender, excusing herself for a moment to go and see what was wrong. When she turned in the direction of where Charlie was standing, Hermione furrowed her brows; he had disappeared —

Charlie had bolted up the stairs in the flash of an instant, pushing through the crowd effortlessly, his mind preoccupied. He scrambled inside his dorm room, slamming the door shut behind him. To his horror, he could see the silhouette of the small letter on his nightstand by his four-poster, right where Neville had left it.

Time felt as though it had slowed down significantly. The immediate dread that swelled inside Charlie was almost unbearable as he moved over towards his bed frame. His hands were shaky as he reached out to grab the haunting letter. He held it in his hands, scared to see its contents. The letter wasn't unlike any other; it was a simple white envelope and gave no indication that it was addressed to anyone in particular.

With the party raging on downstairs, Charlie hesitated for only a second before ripping it open and pulling out the letter inside. It was less of a letter really, and more of an index card. Sighing heavily, Charlie turned the card over, his eyes fixated on the words, sprawled in his father's signature handwriting:

The filthy, little mudblood... I should've known.
See you soon.

Charlie stared down at the parchment before him, his vision strangely blurry. A whirl of emotions was ricocheting around in him. He wasn't sure which was twisting his gut harder; the fact that his father knew of what Hermione truly meant to him, or the fact that his father made sure to emphasize the word, 'soon', as though Charlie was running out of time.

After trying to escape his fate for far too long, it finally caught up with him. Charlie had never dealt such a blow to the foundation of his world, his body was shaking in fear. It's amazing, isn't it, the power of ten little words? He found himself collapsed to the floor and gasping for breath, his heart racing wildly as he trembled.

He crumpled the paper in his hands as he leaned against his bed frame, shuddering as realization struck him. Charlie cradled his head in his hands, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He felt like his heart had been shattered into a million tiny pieces; Hermione was in danger... and it was all —

"My fault," he muttered to himself, hitting his head repeatedly as though he was scolding himself. "All my fault... all my fault... all my fault."

And in the midst of Charlie's breakdown, he failed to notice that the door had creaked open once again — he was no longer alone. After several minutes of searching for her boyfriend, Hermione Granger had finally found him... but at the most inopportune time.

As she closed the door behind her, Hermione walked forward, growing alarmed as she saw her boyfriend clutching his head in his hands as he sat on the floor, looking completely wrecked. Her heart ached as she saw tears splatter down onto the sleeves of his shirt; his sobs ricocheted off the walls making the room incredibly solemn.

Charlie jumped as he felt a hand press against his cheek, wiping the tears from his face. He straightened in a flash, his head turning towards Hermione, who had kneeled beside him. She smiled consolingly at him, but frowned immediately when Charlie backed away from her, looking completely terrified.

"Baby...?" Hermione asked softly, eyeing him curiously. "What's wrong? Did something happe—"

"You shouldn't be here," Charlie muttered, stray tears leaking out of his eyes as he scrambled to his feet. "You can't be here."

"What do you mean?" inquired Hermione, completely confused as she stood up, reaching out for him once again. "What's going on? Talk to me."

"Please Hermione," croaked Charlie, avoiding her touch. "Please leave me alone, I'm begging you."

"You're not well, Charlie," Hermione said cautiously, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm trying to help you."

"I don't need your help!" said Charlie at once, his voice growing louder than intended; Hermione jumped, he had never raised his voice like that before. "I-I just need you to go," he added, in an almost inaudible whisper.

Hermione's face softened. She was taken aback at his sudden behaviour, her heart began to beat faster in her chest.

"Charlie, please..."

Charlie simply stared at her before gulping and dropping his head into his hands once again. Within no time, he was shaking with renewed sobs. His mind had made a decision, but his heart was in strict disagreement. Hermione watched him, waiting in anticipation for the moment where she would be welcomed in his arms... but it never came.

"I-I can't do this," he muttered just barely above a whisper, raising his head slightly. "N-Not anymore."

"Okay, okay," said Hermione in a hushed tone, unaware of what he meant. "I'll go, and when you need me I'll —"

"Y-You don't understand," mumbled Charlie, and Hermione froze, her heart hammering. "I can't do this anymore, Hermione. I can't..." his voice was a whisper, his sadness bare for her to see as he gestured between the two of them.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was unsure of what to say. She looked down at her feet and nervously tapped her toes on the floor. Her worst nightmare was about to come true, and she could feel the tears forming in her eyes, her heart splitting in two.

"A-Are y-you..." she stuttered, her words getting caught in her throat, "b-breaking up with me...?"

Charlie's attempt at maintaining his composure was a failure now, as tears left his eyes while his heart crumbled into a thousand pieces. He noticed the glistening tears growing in her eyes and hated himself for putting her through so much pain. Closing his eyes for a second, he had to keep reminding himself that he was doing the right thing. He was putting her safety above all else, no matter how badly it hurt. They had been too wrapped up in their whirlwind romance that Charlie had often forgotten of reality... that couldn't happen anymore.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered, and his heart erupted in his chest.

"I-I don't understand..." cried Hermione, her breath shaky. "What happened between this morning and now? What changed? What did I —"

"You didn't do anything," Charlie said at once, wanting to instantly put to rest this theory that she could've possibly done anything to jeopardize their relationship. "This is my fault... I did this to us."

"But why?" asked Hermione, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "There has to be a reason."

Charlie couldn't allow himself to say the words out loud. His mind trailed off, remembering the contents of the scrunched up ball of parchment on the floor, and he shuddered. He wouldn't expose her to that kind of horror... absolutely not.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, and it was if it had been a final nail in Hermione's coffin.

She panicked, stepping forward and grabbing his hands, pleading, "Please don't do this... please, I love you."

"I love you too... so much, please believe that," Charlie whispered, his voice breaking as the despair of being helpless to stop the end of his relationship dawned on him. "But sometimes that just isn't enough."

"That was supposed to be all that mattered," mumbled Hermione, squeezing his hands tightly as she reminisced on their moment shared just a few weeks prior. She released a heavy sigh, looking up to search his eyes for answers, "What about everything we've been through together? All the things we've talked about. What about our future? Does that just mean nothing to you now?"

"I'm sorry," Charlie repeated, unaware of what else he could say. God, how he wished it didn't have to be like this...

"We can work this out," Hermione suggested desperately, reaching up to caress his cheek. "Whatever this is... please, don't give up on us... not like this."

Charlie melted into her touch, and for the slightest second, forgot that he was breaking her heart.

"I love you," he whispered, and he meant it wholeheartedly. He leaned down, capturing Hermione's lips with his own, and for a fraction of a second she had hope that they could get pass this.

But then reality set in. The taste of salty tears danced along their lips as they moulded together. This kiss was unlike any other they had ever shared before. It was soft, slow... heartbreaking. Every other kiss they had shared was savoured like it was their last — and now it felt like it actually was. They reciprocated each other's every emotion and channeled it into that kiss, leaving them breathless as they pulled away.

There was a short moment of silence in which their panting for air overtook the room, mixing in with the heavy music being played downstairs. Both of their eyes had yet to open, savouring their final embrace, and then, like a knife through Charlie's chest, Hermione sobbed once again.

"That... was a goodbye kiss, wasn't it?" she asked softly, her tone radiating immense sadness.

And as much as it killed him to do so, Charlie nodded, breathing out slowly, "It had to be."

Hermione let out a shaky breath before gazing up into Charlie's eyes one last time. She could practically feel the depression creep itself into her heart that had just been broken. Charlie stood, motionless, in disbelief as reality set in.

Charlie was angry at himself for what he had done, and he couldn't decide whether the look of betrayal and heartbreak on Hermione's face haunted him more than the terror-induced words of his father.

This was all his fault. His father was on a warpath. His grandfather was gone. Hagrid had disappeared. Hermione was heartbroken... he was alone... alone with the nightmares that haunted him as he slept and the thoughts that plagued him as he woke —

The palpable tension in the room was endured by silence. Hermione and Charlie had yet to move, speak, or even think after what had just happened. Both fell victims to imagination, wondering why things had to be this way.

Luckily for them, the silence didn't last for much longer. The door opened once again, but this time, in a panic. Harry Potter appeared in the doorway, and Charlie and Hermione, through tearful eyes, looked in his direction.

Their friend was a pale as a ghost, clutching his scar in agony. He slammed the door shut behind him the moment he stepped inside, and leaned against it, facing them.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

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Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

...hi.

here is a gif of voldemort skipping to make you laugh... please don't kill me.

[insert begging for comments and votes here]

until next time! much love to you all <3

xo, selena

p.s. only one more chapter of ootp (I think... oops)

p.p.s. new faceclaim for Charlie years 1-4: Louis Partridge (see video above for reference)

bye! gonna hide until I update again lmfao