CHAPTER TWO:

Third Person P.O.V.:

Charlie remained within the confines of the Burrow's garden over the next few weeks. He spent most of his days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasleys' orchard, while Hermione sat nearby desperately awaiting the results of their O.W.L.s.

It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the Prophet. Charlie grew more and more anxious with every article referring to the Death Eater attacks, as it felt like his task with the Dark Lord would be set sooner than anticipated.

But Charlie was careful not to be perturbed about Voldemort over the next few days. Saturday dawned without any more disruptions, although Mrs. Weasley seemed to be growing more and more tense at the increasing body count.

The lot of them were sat around the kitchen table having breakfast when Hermione had jumped up and started walking around nervously, twisting her fingers together.

"Mrs. Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?"

"Yes, dear, I'd have noticed," dismissed Mrs. Weasley patiently, as she placed another sausage onto Harry's plate. "But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time..."

"I know I messed up Ancient Runes," muttered Hermione feverishly, "I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation, and the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back —"

"Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who's nervous!" barked Ron, and for an unknown reason, Charlie's grip tightened around his fork. "And when you've got your ten 'Outstanding' O.W.L.s..."

"Don't, don't, don't!" said Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything!"

"Rest assured, if you've failed, then the entirety of the grade did as well," muttered Charlie effortlessly, and the entire table had turned to him, shocked that he had spoken; Hermione's face had softened as though his words were a pillow of comfort.

"What happens if we fail?" Harry asked the room at large, but it was again Hermione who answered.

"We discuss our options with our Head of House, I asked Professor McGonagall at the end of last term."

"Of course you did," whispered Charlie under his breath, causing Harry to snigger beside him; Ron grinned widely through a mouthful of toast.

When it was expected for Hermione to severely scold her three friends for poking fun at the situation, the room was drowned in an unexpected scream. Charlie's head turned immediately and he noticed a wide-eyed Hermione, who was now pointing through the kitchen window. Four black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.

"They're definitely owls," said Ron hoarsely, jumping up to join Hermione at the window.

Harry hastened to her other side, mumbling, "And there are four of them."

"That'll be one for each of us," shrugged Charlie, who thought that his O.W.L. results were the least of his problems.

The owls were flying directly at the Burrow, four handsome tawnies, each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope.

"Oh no!" squealed a terrified Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley squeezed past them and opened the kitchen window. One, two, three, four, the owls soared through it and landed on the table in a neat line. All four of them lifted their right legs.

Charlie moved forward. The letter addressed to him was tied to the leg of the owl that was second from the end. He untied it with fumbling fingers. To his left, Ron was trying to detach his own results while Harry's cheeks flushed with nervousness. To his right, Hermione's hands were shaking so much she was making her whole owl tremble.

Nobody in the kitchen spoke. At last, Charlie managed to detach the envelope. He slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades:
Outstanding (O)
Exceeds Expectations (E)
Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades:
Poor (P)
Dreadful (D)
Troll (T)

Charles Florent Amadeus Hawthorne has received:

Ancient Runes: (E)
Arithmancy: (O)
Astronomy: (E)
Care of Magical Creatures: (O)
Charms: (O)
Defence Against the Dark Arts: (E)
Herbology: (O)
History of Magic: (E)
Potions: (O)
Transfiguration: (O)

Charlie read the parchment through several times, overwhelming relief flushing over him with each reading. He had always known that his Astronomy mark would decrease after his rushed finished product, and History of Magic was to be expected, for Charlie couldn't care much to listen to Professor Binns for more than an hour.

He ran his finger down the grades... the 'Exceeds Expectations' mark in Defence Against the Dark Arts was instantly blamed on Professor Umbridge and her inability to be useful. Overall, Charlie was pretty please with himself and his results had, somehow, proved to be one of the only things that had made him smile as of late.

He looked around. Hermione had her back to him and her head bent, but Harry and Ron were looking delighted.

"Only failed Divination and History of Magic, but who cares about them?" Ron said happily, his ears reddening with pride. "Here... swap..."

The boys took turns swapping their OWL results. Ron's grades were decent, but there was evidently not a single 'Outstanding'. In comparison, Harry had obtained an expected 'Outstanding' in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and only failed the same two courses as Ron.

"Knew you'd be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts," smiled Charlie, punching Harry on the shoulder.

"Bloody hell, Char," gaped Ron, brandishing Charlie's results around. "How long were you studying for these damn things for?"

Charlie sniggered, "What else was I supposed to be doing while you lot were off winning the Quidditch Cup? Had to occupy my mind somehow."

Harry smiled proudly, muttering, "We've done alright, haven't we?"

"Well done!" beamed Mrs. Weasley, ruffling Ron's hair. "Seven O.W.L.s, that's more than Fred and George got together!"

"Hermione?" called Ginny, for Hermione still had yet to turn around. "How did you do?"

"Uh, not bad," stuttered Hermione in a small voice.

"Oh, come off it," grumbled Ron, striding over to her and whipping her results out of her hand. "Yep... nine 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations' at Defence Against the Dark Arts." He looked down at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You're actually disappointed, aren't you?"

Hermione shook her head, but Harry laughed. Charlie's gaze became fixated on Hermione, who had bitten her lip in regret, and he resisted the urge to smile.

"Well, we're N.E.W.T. students now!" grinned Ron. He turned back around, his attention seemingly lost, as he asked, "Mum, are there any more sausages?"

———————————————————

The news of Voldemort's reign of terror never ceased to exist, putting a severe damper on Charlie's mood throughout the rest of his summer holiday. Even to Mrs. Weasley's displeasure, Charlie's sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin, who was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.

"There have been another couple of dementor attacks," he announced, as Mrs. Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. "And they've found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it... well, frankly, I'm surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters. Sirius's brother, Regulus, only managed a few days as far as I can remember."

"Yes, well," began Mrs. Weasley, frowning, "perhaps we should talk about something diff—"

"Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?" asked Mr. Weasley, who had returned from a long shift at the Ministry. "The man who ran —"

"— the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?" Harry interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. "He used to give me free pints of ice cream. What's happened to him?"

"Dragged off, by the look of his place."

Growing extremely tense, Charlie stood as though a jolt of electricity had pulsed through his veins, startling everyone around who had been sat at the kitchen table.

"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his eyes hastily. He looked round, but managed to avoid eye contact as he added, "Excuse me for a second."

Without allowing a chance for protest, Charlie left the room, bolting up the wobbly staircase until he reached his second floor bedroom. Closing the door quickly behind him, Charlie collapsed on his bed, running his hands over his face exasperatedly as though all of his anxiety had been bubbling over the surface.

He sat up to lean his back up against the wall and lifted his knees to his chest, finally allowing the tears that he had been holding back for days to fall down his cheeks. Charlie had no idea how he was going to get through this year. He wasn't sure if he had the courage to go through with whatever the Dark Lord was going to set for him, or even the willpower.

Leaning his head back against the cool wall, Charlie winced at the movement of his neck. His body was still aching tremendously after the most recent assault from his 'beloved' father. A couple of more tears escaped his eyes. He cursed silently, mad at himself for being so pathetic. He had been doing good up until this point, but with constant reminders of the damage being inflicted, he couldn't help but feel terrified.

"Mind if I join you?"

Charlie jumped out of his skin as a familiar, soft voice echoed around the room. He looked up, breathing out slowly in relief when he saw Hermione in the doorway. Hermione's face overcame with worry, however, when she got a proper look at the boy on the bed. She quietly shut the bedroom door behind her, entrapping them both in silence.

"I'm fine, you know?" Charlie whispered finally, although Hermione hadn't said anything to justify such a response. "I... I just needed to get out of there for a minute. I have a headache and it's awfully loud down there."

"Right," Hermione breathed out skeptically, moving ever so slowly to join him on the bed. "My apologies, I just thought that maybe —"

"I'm fine," Charlie repeated, quickly wiping his face with his sleeve. Hermione watched him as he scrambled to his feet, desperately trying to avoid confrontation.

"Char—"

"It's nothing," Charlie interrupted, and he reached out for the door handle to remove himself from the situation.

All too quickly, however, Hermione grabbed his hand, stopping him at once as an euphoric shiver pulsed through his body. She blocked the door, not willing to let him go.

"Stop that," she pleaded, her eyes searching his face for answers. "What's going on with you?"

Charlie staggered a little under the weight of her gaze and looked at his feet, unable to trust that he'd be able to keep his composure if he spoke. Hermione moved closer to him, if that was even possible, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face, staining his cheeks a violent red.

Hermione whispered lowly, her face quizzical, "Are you... crying?"

Charlie cleared his throat, but his voice still came out gravelly and hoarse, "I'd rather not answer that."

Then, as if the entire world had been conspiring against him, another tear trickled down his face. Shaking her head, Hermione lifted up her unoccupied hand and wiped the moisture that had gathered under his left eye, making Charlie's breath hitch... but, he didn't stop her.

"You just did," Hermione murmured softly, her spearmint-scented breath dancing on his parted lips. She moved her hand down underneath his chin, tilting his head back up so he would look at her, "I'm here. Talk to me."

For the first time in weeks, the lack of emotion disappeared from Charlie's eyes and all that was left was a dull, drained sadness. He gaped at her for a moment. It felt as though the world around him was blurring around the edges while her face, her slightly nervous smile, came into a hyperfocus.

"But that's just it, isn't it?" Charlie asked, his throat clogged with emotion. "You shouldn't be here."

He closed his eyes, because he couldn't trust himself to say anything else, and untangled their interlocked hands, slightly pushing back against her grasp. Hermione frowned slightly at the loss of contact. With a heavy sigh, she leaned her head back against the wooden oak door, her eyebrows knitted in the slightest confusion.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Charlie replied, trying not to show any emotion in his carefully controlled voice, even as he reached out to stroke a stray strand of honey-brown hair from her face.

"Stop lying," Hermione said at once, unbothered by his display of affection as her tone remained firm.

"Stop worrying," Charlie countered, forcing himself to reply with a slightly sarcastic tone, as he swallowed slowly.

Hermione was beginning to feel lightheaded as his words sunk in. It was as though she was drifting towards a temptation that she wouldn't be able to resist. Charlie looked at her seriously, his face hardening with the desire to be believed. Hermione's heart was beating so quickly, she feared that it would begin to echo off the poorly structured walls around them.

"Spoken as if it were easy," she muttered in disbelief, her arms now crossing across her chest. Hermione looked down bashfully, adding, "Especially when it comes to you."

Charlie felt strangely numb and detached, as though he was watching a play where someone else was moving his body and reciting lines that he had not thought to say.

"Hermione," his voice was soft, but something in it made Hermione's breathing become uneven. "I'm not your concern anymore... you know that, right?"

"Doesn't mean I care for you any less than I did before," Hermione admitted effortlessly, sniffing a little as she inhaled deeply and began breathing more calmly.

Charlie froze, his face falling slightly. All of the familiar, tense lines had either softened or completely disappeared, replaced with a newfound relaxed expression. Her words transformed his newly customary bitter, emotionless look and made him look almost innocent somehow, as though years of torment had been erased.

Dangerously, Charlie took a step forward and placed his hands on either side of her, caging her against the door with a heavy sigh. Their hearts were beating rapidly together, neither of them daring to speak as the tension between them grew thicker due to their close proximity.

"I hate that you still have this effect of me," Charlie whispered at last, his tone low with underlying confession. He let out a light, rueful chuckle, "You're killing me."

Their cheeks burned hotly against one another as his words sunk in, and Hermione looked back up, nuzzling his nose with her own.

"Now you know how it feels," she mumbled fiercely, her eyes flickering from his eyes down to his lips.

Like it or not, Hermione knew that his true intentions were defined more by his actions than his words, especially when he was vulnerable and didn't want anyone to know. Charlie Hawthorne was a study in contradictions, but under all the physical scars and years of abuse and neglect, he was still surprisingly kindhearted and eager to please in his own way.

Charlie brought his right hand to her chin and turned her face to his, tilting his own down until their foreheads touched softly. He met her eyes with a loving gaze.

Pulling herself together, Hermione placed her hand on his and drew up quickly before he had a chance to react. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, lingering for a moment. Charlie went numb from the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed in disbelief. Hermione chuckled softly at the sight of him as she pulled away, thankful that the simplest of moments between them still had such a profound impact.

Moving to ghost her lips over his ear, Hermione whispered ever so lowly, "Happy Birthday."

Charlie came to his senses just in time to watch Hermione smile to herself before she pushed herself away from his embrace, pulled open the door, and sauntered out of the room.

It became abundantly clear, once Charlie had been left by his lonesome, that Hermione's objective was never to force the truth out of him, but rather to make him forget his troubles until she was able to bring a smile to his lips.

And that reason alone left Charlie utterly speechless... she was still looking out for him.

———————————————————

Within the next two days, the Burrow had been visited by more owls, which delivered their letters and booklists from Hogwarts. Not thinking much of it, Charlie opened his hastily, but was ultimately surprised when a Gryffindor Quidditch Captain badge had fallen into the palm of his hand.

"Oi," called Harry excitedly, brandishing a similar gold and scarlet badge in his hands, "I've got one too."

"Co-Captains then, I reckon," Charlie shrugged, still in utter amazement that he had been chosen.

"You know, that gives the two of you equal status with Prefects," Hermione said, smiling to herself as she thought of the possibilities. "You can use our special bathroom now and everything."

"Wow, I remember when Jack wore one of these," awed Ron, examining the badge with glee. "This is so cool, you two could be my Captains... if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha..."

"Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now that you've got these," sighed Mrs. Weasley, looking down Ron's booklist. "I'll see if we can't go later this afternoon, whenever your father gets off work."

Sure enough, when Mr. Weasley returned home mid-afternoon, they made their way to Diagon Alley. It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Charlie had ridden in many times before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house, pulling on their cloaks.

"It's good Dad can get us these again," nodded Ron appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the Burrow; Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window.

He, Charlie, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide backseat, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-seater sofa.

"Here you are, then," said the driver, a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed into Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. "I'm to wait for you, any idea how long you'll be?"

"Couple hours, I expect," Mr. Weasley waved off, before he turned to look around. "Ah, good, he's here!"

Charlie turned his head and peered through the window; his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn as he had expected, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Charlie's face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

"Char!" he boomed, sweeping the boy into a bone-crushing hug the moment Charlie had stepped out of the car. "Blimey! Bin ages since I las' saw yeh!"

"It's good to see you, Hagrid," beamed Charlie, grinning as he massaged his ribs. "I didn't expect to see you here, if I'm honest."

"I know, jus' like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o' Aurors, but Dumbledore said I'd do," smiled Hagrid proudly, throwing out his chest and clapping Harry happily on the back. "Lets get goin' then — after yeh, Molly, Arthur —"

The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Charlie's memory, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid waved him off, "Jus' passin' through today, Tom, sure yeh understand, Hogwarts business, yeh know."

Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; Charlie, Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway onto a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.

Diagon Alley had changed.

The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them.

Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

"Come along, dears," Mrs. Weasley ushered immediately, nervously consulting the booklist. "I think we'd better do Madame Malkin's first. I know Hermione wants new dress robes, and Ron's showing awfully too much ankle in his school robes. You must need new ones too, Charlie, you've grown like a weed over the summer... you too, Harry... well, come on, everyone..."

"Molly, it doesn't make sense for all of us to go to Madame Malkin's," interrupted Mr. Weasley, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't those four go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone's school books?"

"I don't know," whispered Mrs. Weasley anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. "Hagrid, do you think...?"

"Don' fret, they'll be fine with me, Molly," said Hagrid soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid. Mrs. Weasley did not look entirely convinced, but allowed the separation, scurrying off toward Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Charlie, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid set off for Madame Malkin's.

Charlie noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs. Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.

"Migh' be a bit of a squeeze in there with all o' us," said Hagrid, stopping outside Madame Malkin's and bending down to peer through the window. "I'll stand guard outside, all righ'?"

So Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the little shop together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but when the door swung shut behind them, they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes in spangled green.

"...not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

There was a clucking noise and a voice, easily recognized as that of Madame Malkin, the owner, said, "Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a —"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!"

A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed the core four reflected over his shoulder. His light grey eyes narrowed.

Draco sniggered, "If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in."

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" shrieked Madame Malkin, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!" she added hastily, for a glance toward the door had shown her that Charlie, Harry and Ron were standing there with their wands out, pointed directly at Malfoy.

Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them, whispered, "No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it. "

Malfoy sneered, "Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school."

"Try me," growled Charlie, gripping his wand more firmly in his hand. Draco had suddenly grown paler at the sound of Charlie's voice, almost as though he had seen a ghost.

"That's quite enough!" said Madame Malkin sharply, looking over her shoulder for support. "Madame, please —"

As if on queue, Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack.

"Put those away," she said coldly to Charlie, Harry and Ron. "If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

"Really?" scoffed Harry, taking a step forward and gazing into the smoothly arrogant face that, for all its pallor, still resembled her sister's. He was glaring at her now. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

Madame Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart.

"Really, you shouldn't accuse... dangerous thing to say... wands away, please!"

But none of the boys lowered their wands. Narcissa Malfoy smiled unpleasantly, her gaze shifting towards Charlie with the utmost curiosity.

"It is remarkable how little you know, Mr. Potter," Narcissa sniggered menacingly as she turned back around. "I see that being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security... but Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you."

Harry looked mockingly all around the shop. "Wow... look at that... he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

Snapping out of his daze, Draco made an angry movement toward Harry, but stumbled over his overlong robe. Ron's loud laughter echoed around the room.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" Malfoy snarled, trying to keep his balance.

"It's all right, Draco," cooed Narcissa, restraining him with her thin white fingers upon his shoulder. "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

Charlie snapped, raising his wand higher before Harry even got the chance to, "Watch your mouth."

"Charlie, please!" shrieked Hermione at once, grabbing his arm and attempting to push it down by his side. "Think... you mustn't... you'll be in such trouble..."

Madame Malkin dithered for a moment on the spot, then seemed to decide to act as though nothing was happening in the hope that it wouldn't. She bent toward Malfoy, who was still glaring at Harry.

"I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just..."

"Ouch!" bellowed Malfoy, slapping her hand away. "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother, I don't think I want these anymore."

He pulled the robes over his head and threw them onto the floor at Madame Malkin's feet.

"You're right, Draco," agreed Narcissa, with a contemptuous glance at Hermione, "now I know the kind of scum that shops here... we'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

Charlie took a protective step forward, his jaw clenched in fury. Narcissa found the utmost amusement in this act of chivalry and narrowed her eyes upon the boy, a devilish smile curling upon her lips.

"Oh, Charles, you poor thing. Looking a bit dishevelled, I see," she said coyly, her tone low with underlying belittlement. "Had a rough summer, did you?"

Charlie's eyes became alit with horrors, his friends glancing at him with the utmost uncertainty.

With that, Draco and Narcissa strode out of the shop, grinning at what they had accomplished; Malfoy made sure to slam as hard as he could into Ron on the way out.

"Well, really!" shrieked Madame Malkin, snatching up the fallen robes and moving the tip of her wand over them like a vacuum cleaner, so that it removed all the dust.

"Come on," muttered Charlie, and he pushed his way through the shop, not willing to stop to address any questions that arose by Narcissa Malfoy's comment.

It was safe to say that when the core four finally bought their needed robes, Madame Malkin bowed them out of the shop with an air of being glad to see the back of them.

"Got ev'rything?" asked Hagrid brightly when they reappeared at his side.

"Just about," replied Harry, brandishing his bag of robes. "Did you see the Malfoys?"

"Yeah," nodded Hagrid, unconcerned. "But they wouldn' dare make trouble in the middle o' Diagon Alley, Harry. Don' worry about them."

Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks, but before they could disabuse Hagrid of this comfortable notion, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny appeared, all clutching heavy packages of books.

"Everyone alright?" asked Mr. Weasley, his grin widely spread across his face. "Right then, off we go. Let's pop by Fred and George's shop... stick close, now..."

The lot of them headed farther along the street in search of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the infamous joke shop they had heard so much about.

"Whoa," gasped Ron, stopping in his tracks as they rounded the corner.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and Georges windows hit the eye like a firework display.

Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Charlie's eyes began to water just looking at it.

The shop was packed with customers when they entered. Charlie stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling. There were bins full of trick wands; the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens when waved, while the most expensive would beat the unwary user around the head.

Then, stood behind the front counter in screaming magenta suits that clashed magnificently with their flaming hair, Fred and George came into focus. Their voices travelling loudly around the room, selling to the masses:

"Step up! Step up!"

"We've got Fainting Fancies!" bellowed George, looking thoroughly pleased.

Fred continued, grinning widely, "Nosebleed Nougats!"

"And just in time for school..."

"Puking Pastilles!"

It was utter chaos throughout the store. Ever-Bashing Boomerangs whipped through the air and Nose-Biting Teacups, baring tiny porcelain teeth, were launching themselves at customers unexpectedly. Yet, Fred and George looked as if they were having the time of their lives.

Catching sight of Charlie, they strode out from behind the counter to join him at either side, both firmly shaking his hand in greeting.

"How're you Char?" asked George, ruffling the younger boy's hair slightly.

"Seemingly not as good as you lot," awed Charlie, who was still gaping around at the merchandise.

Fred ushered Charlie around the store, laughing, "Have a look around. Take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask."

Harry had managed to squeeze through to a large display near the counter. His eyes were transfixed upon a display of weird-looking black and orange lumps when the twins and Charlie approached him.

"Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?" questioned Harry, his eyes alit with intrigue.

Fred grinned, "A real money spinner that one!"

George beamed, "Handy if you need to make a quick getaway!"

Sharing a quick laugh, it wasn't long before the four of them swept back towards the main part of the shop to find Hermione and Ginny poring over the Patented Daydream Charms.

"Haven't you girls found our special WonderWitch products yet?" asked Fred, looking thoroughly amused. "Follow me, ladies..."

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls were giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary.

"There you go," pointed Fred proudly. "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere."

Ginny raised an eyebrow skeptically, asking, "Do they work?"

Just then, a large, wire-haired boy had passed behind Hermione. With his eyebrow raised suggestively, the boy devoured her from head to toe with his eyes. It was as though the boy had no shame in admiring her beauty up close, despite the fact that they had seemingly never met. Upon realization, Hermione gave him a faint smile as he moved along.

Noticing the entirety of the interaction, Charlie's jaw had clenched in fury. His golden brown eyes narrowed in Hermione's direction, and she flushed a bright shade of pink under his gaze. Not willing to give her the satisfaction of admitting his jealousy, Charlie turned away from her, trying desperately to ignore Hermione's admirer gaping at her from across the room.

Shifting his focus, Charlie noticed that Fred had nodded at Ginny, saying, "Of course, but only for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question —"

"— and the attractiveness of the girl," interrupted George, sniggering lightly to himself. As his chuckles softened, he looked back around to Ginny, "Then again, the way we hear it sis, you seem to be doing just fine on your own."

Ginny was taken aback slightly, "Meaning?"

Fred smirked, thoroughly amused, "Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?"

Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Charlie was surprised Fred didn't recoil.

"It's none of your business. And I'll tell you," she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George's elbow, laden with merchandise, "not to tell tales about me to these two!"

Ron shrugged, unbothered, before shifting his attention to the twins, asking, "How much for this?"

"Five Galleons," said Fred at once, examining the many boxes in Ron's arms. "Cough up."

Ron's mouth fell agape, seemingly shocked, "How much for me?"

George furrowed his brows, reiterating, "Five Galleons."

"But I'm your brother!"

The twins looked to one another, simultaneously nodding, before they turned back to Ron, "Ten Galleons."

"But I haven't got ten Galleons!"

"You'd better put it back then and, mind you, put it on the right shelves."

Ron dropped several boxes, swore, and made a rude hand gesture at the twins that was unfortunately spotted by Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen to appear at that precise moment.

"If I see you do that again I'll jinx your fingers together," she said sharply.

Ron huffed before looking round at his three friends, gesturing towards the door, "Come on, let's go."

Sighing, Charlie followed quickly behind Harry, Hermione, and Ron as they started for the door. They swept past Ginny, who's gaze was transfixed upon a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.

"Mum!" Ginny bellowed as the core four passed her, practically jumping up and down from excitement. "Can I get a Pygmy Puff?"

Mrs. Weasley moved aside to look at the Pygmy Puffs, and Charlie had an unimpeded view of the love potion display once again. This time, however, he stopped dead in his tracks as someone called out his name, catching him completely off guard.

"Hi, Charlie."

Charlie whipped around, his eyes widening in shock as he caught sight of Lavender Brown, who was smiling flirtatiously in his direction. She eyed him up and down, her eyes alit with desire.

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Charlie waved, utterly confused as he muttered, "Hi."

Lavender batted her eyes at him, "Have a good summer? You know, I heard about you and Hermione..."

"Well, I uh —"

"It's a shame, really," Lavender whispered consoling, reaching out to caress his arm gently. "But it's her loss, I suppose."

Suddenly, there was a rather harsh tug at Charlie's arm before Lavender had made contact, pulling him out of reach. He spun around slowly and met the steely gaze of Hermione Granger. Noticing the icy bitterness alit in her eyes, Charlie staggered nervously.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione said hotly, her eyes narrowing as they shifted between Charlie and Lavender with the utmost disgust. "But I couldn't help but overhear your sentiments, Lav... you're just so thoughtful, aren't you?"

"Hermione!" squealed Lavender sheepishly, her cheeks flushing red as though she was caught in an act. "It's, uh, so good to see you! It's been so long."

"Clearly not long enough," muttered Hermione, and Charlie watched as she rolled her eyes. He was trying his damnedest to resist the smirk that was threatening to curl upon his lips.

He was instantly sobered, however, when Hermione had turned back towards him, evident anger flushed amongst her cheeks. Charlie cleared his throat, unaware of what to say or do as both girls now gazed at him attentively. As a moment of uncomfortable silence passed, Hermione let out an audible groan of frustration.

"Now... if you'll excuse us."

Catching Charlie completely off guard, Hermione grabbed at his arm and dragged him towards the front door of the joke shop once again, but not before she shot Lavender one last glare.

Once they were well out of ear-shot from Lavender, Charlie carefully pulled his arm from Hermione's grasp. He heard Hermione sigh in annoyance as she angrily stomped her way forward, pushing her way through the group of eager customers.

"What the hell just happened?" Charlie asked her, as the two of them found their way back outside; the door of the twins' shop chimed as they left.

"Don't be stupid," Hermione scoffed, failing to acknowledge him with her eyes. "You knew exactly what you were doing."

Charlie balked, utterly dumbfounded, "My apologies, I wasn't aware it was a crime to say hello."

"Is that what you think that was?" Hermione questioned furiously, stopping in her tracks abruptly; Charlie near collided into her, but caught himself at the last second. "Last time I checked a simple greeting didn't involve unnecessary touching."

Charlie countered, his eyes widening in bewilderment, "Last time I checked I wasn't responsible for the actions of other people."

Hermione's mouth twitched with anger as she shook her head. Soon after, she muttered, "You are unbelievable."

"Me?" questioned Charlie, his eyebrows raising in slight confusion. He let out a light, rueful laugh, "You're mad at me for something that wasn't even my fault!"

Hermione crossed her arms, sneering, "No, I'm mad at you because you're an oblivious prat."

"I can't help it if you're jealous over nothing."

This time, Hermione laughed harshly.

"I'm jealous?"

"Clearly," nodded Charlie, ruffling his hands through his hair exasperatedly. "I mean, you didn't see me making a scene when that guy from earlier was blatantly eye-fucking you from across the room."

"That's completely different!" Hermione shouted, catching the attention of a few passerby. Looking around, she took a deep breath to compose herself before continuing, "For Merlin's sake, Lavender is supposed to be one of my friends!"

"Alright... that's fair," admitted Charlie, giving her the benefit of the doubt. "But then, what was your excuse when it came to Romilda last year?"

"Are you really that daft?" Hermione asked, her mouth falling agape slightly. "You honestly have the nerve to question why I was jealous when another girl was drooling all over you? Seriously? We were dating!"

"But we're not together anymore," Charlie countered, failing to think before the words left his mouth. Hermione's face had fallen immediately. "I'm at perfect liberty to talk with whomever I like."

"Is that right?"

Dangerously, Hermione grabbed at his chest, clutching a handful of his jumper in her right hand, and pulled him towards her. Stumbling over his feet slightly, Charlie pressed up against her. Although confused, his confidence in his ability to understand anything was pretty irreparably shattered at that particular moment. Hermione looked up at him, her auburn eyes challenging him as her lips ghosted over his.

"Did you forget that you were practically all over me the other night?" she whispered lowly, and her tone sent a shiver down Charlie's spine. "Or did you just delude yourself into thinking that whatever that was never happened?"

Charlie stared at her wistfully and felt whatever remained of his heart tug painfully in his chest. He reached out, grabbed her wrist and kept her body steady up against him. Her expression was distinctly smug and unsurprised while visible resistance etched on his face. Towering over her, Charlie let out a groan of frustration.

"You are so bloody confusing," he growled as he studied her eyes, which had darkened significantly.

It was the only coherent thing Charlie could force out as he struggled to think of something other than Hermione in his arms, her panted breath that danced across his lips, her body arched against his, and the sensation of her fingers drawing patterns across his chest.

Hermione let out a breathy, troublesome giggle, "Quite ironic coming from you."

She was clutching at his clothes as though she were about to fall. Hermione was internally screaming at herself for this newfound boldness, but hadn't showed a single visible sign of surrender. Quite the contrary in fact, she was burning with desire. Every atom in her body felt drawn to boy before her... and she hated herself for it.

She made a criminally unhelpful noise against his mouth, which Charlie concluded to be a groan of protest, for Hermione had suddenly jerked herself away from him, panting as she tried to regain her bearings.

Everything felt abruptly futile. Charlie was oddly frozen as he was dragged away from the moment he'd gotten so lost in. Suddenly, he began to remember himself and everything went cold... nearly as cold as the manor in which he had been tortured in for weeks.

Then, as if Merlin himself had tried to diffuse the tension, the little bell on the joke shop door twinkled merrily once again, and out walked Ron and Harry.

"There you guys are!"

Their two friends approached them, seemingly unaware of the tension that was hung thick in the air between Charlie and Hermione. That being said, Ron did shift his gaze between them, clearly trying to decipher a possible reason as to why two exes would be off on their lonesome.

Harry, however, had his mind preoccupied else where. His emerald eyes were transfixed off in the distance. Charlie turned, noticing Draco Malfoy hurrying up the street alone. As he passed several of the boarded up shops, he glanced over his shoulder. Seconds later, Draco moved beyond the core four's line of vision and they lost sight of him.

"Anyone else wondering where his mum buggered off to?" inquired Harry, frowning at the possibilities.

Ron shrugged, forcefully tearing his gaze off of Hermione, "Given her the slip by the looks of it."

Hermione, who's hardened face had softened with curiosity, asked, "Why though?"

Charlie said nothing. He was thinking extremely hard. Narcissa Malfoy would not have let her precious son out of her sight willingly; Malfoy must have made a real effort to free himself from her clutches.

But why?

The mere thought made the hairs on the nape of Charlie's neck stand on alert, a sense of foreboding surging through his body. After years of knowing and loathing Malfoy, Charlie was sure that the reason for his odd behaviour wasn't innocent... especially after what he had experienced over the summer holiday. Shaking his head, Charlie glanced around, peering back through the joke shop window.

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were bending over the Pygmy Puffs. Mr. Weasley was delightedly examining a pack of Muggle marked playing cards. Fred and George were both helping customers. Around the corner, leaning up against a lamp post without any knowledge of the core four's whereabouts, Hagrid was standing with his back to them, looking up and down the street.

"He was going in that direction," murmured Harry as quietly as possible, so that the humming Hagrid would not hear them. "C'mon..."

Charlie's eyes had widened, "Are you mad? That slick-haired git clearly didn't want to be followed."

Harry shrugged, "All the more reason to follow him, I reckon."

"Oh, I don't know about this," whispered Hermione, looking uncertainly towards Hagrid.

But Harry and Ron had already set off, gaining speed as they took off down the street. Charlie hesitated for a second longer, shared a look with Hermione, then ran quickly after his two friends. With a heavy sigh, Hermione set off as well, hurrying along in Charlie's wake.

They scurried along, peering anxiously through shop windows and doors, until Hermione pointed ahead.

"That's him, isn't it?" she whispered. "Turning left?"

Ron sniggered quietly, "Big surprise."

For Malfoy had glanced around, then slid into Knockturn Alley and out of sight.

"Quick, or we'll lose him," hushed Harry, speeding up. "Come on! Hurry!"

But Knockturn Alley, the side street devoted to the Dark Arts, looked completely deserted. They looked into windows as they passed, but none of the shops seemed to have any customers at all.

"Shh! Look! He's in there!"

They had drawn level with the only shop in Knockturn Alley that seemed familiar to Charlie; Borgin and Burkes, which sold a wide variety of sinister objects. There in the midst of the cases full of skulls and old bottles stood Draco Malfoy with his back to them, just visible beyond a very large black cabinet.

Judging by the movements of Malfoy's hands, he was talking animatedly. The proprietor of the shop, Mr. Borgin, an oily-haired man, stood facing Malfoy. He was wearing a curious expression of mingled resentment and fear.

"If only we could hear what they're saying!" frowned Hermione, her eyes wandering around the shop.

"We can," said Harry, nodding towards an open window on the second story of the building. "Let's climb around back. There might be a way up to the roof."

And so, the four of them rounded the corner discretely. When a towering brick wall intercepted their path, Charlie interlocked his fingers, supporting his friends as he hoisted them over. One by one, the core four settled themselves upon the thatched roof, peaking their heads up ever so slightly so they could peer through the open window.

They put their heads together and listened intently to the voices that ricocheted off the walls, through which Malfoy's voice could be heard loud and clear.

"...you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," came Borgin's voice, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to commit himself. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't," dismissed Malfoy. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

Charlie saw Borgin lick his lips nervously.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" questioned Malfoy, and Charlie knew, just by his tone, that Draco was sneering. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

He moved toward Borgin and was blocked from view by the cabinet. Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione shuffled sideways to try and keep him in sight, but all they could see was Borgin, looking very frightened.

"Tell anyone," growled Malfoy, in a low threatening tone, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for —"

"I'll decide that," snapped Malfoy, unable to listen. "Well, I'd better be off. Don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you imbecile! How would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not... sir."

Borgin made a bow which gave Charlie an unwanted, chilling reminder of the way people used to beg at his father's feet.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Borgin, bowing again.

Next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as Malfoy stalked out of the shop looking very pleased with himself. Inside the shop, Borgin remained frozen; his unctuous smile had vanished... he looked worried.

"What was that about?" whispered Ron, as the four of them carefully climbed back down from the roof and made their way back to the joke shop.

"Nothing," muttered Charlie, who could've done his whole life without adding worrying about Draco Malfoy's plan to his list of problems. "It was a complete waste of time."

"Were you even listening?" asked Harry, thinking incredibly hard. "He wants something mended... and he wants to reserve something in there. Could you see what he pointed at when he said 'that one'?"

"No," groaned Charlie, feeling a little uneasy about the topic of conversation. "He was behind the cabinet."

They walked in silence all the way back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where they were forced to stop so that they could be confronted by a very anxious-looking Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, who had clearly noticed their absence. Together, the core four insisted, in answer to Mrs. Weasleys accusations, that they had been in the back room all along, and that she could not have looked properly.

———————————————————

Charlie spent a lot of the last week of the holidays pondering the meaning of Malfoy's behavior in Knockturn Alley. The satisfied look on Malfoy's face disturbed Charlie entirely, for he feared that it might've been related to his task set by the Dark Lord.

That being said, however, neither him, Hermione, nor Ron seemed as obsessed with Malfoy's activities as Harry was. To Charlie's slight annoyance, it seemed as though Harry hadn't been bored at all when he had brought it up for the hundredth time.

"But what about when he said, 'Don't forget to keep that one safe'?" asked Harry for the umpteenth time, as the lot of them sat around Fred and George's old bedroom. "That sounded to me like Borgin's got another one of the broken objects and Malfoy wants both."

"You reckon?" asked Ron, who was attempting to straighten his broomstick's bent tail twigs.

"Yeah, I do," affirmed Harry. When neither of his friends answered, he pressed on, "Malfoy's father's in Azkaban. Don't you think Malfoy'd like revenge?"

Ron looked up, blinking.

"Revenge for what? What can he do about it?"

"That's my point, I don't know!" huffed Harry, frustrated. Thinking for a moment, realization dawned, making him jump to his feet, "What if... Malfoy's replaced his dad...?"

Ron furrowed his brows, "What're you on about?"

"Stop, Harry," sighed Hermione a little impatiently. She was sitting on the windowsill with her feet up on one of the cardboard boxes and had only grudgingly looked up from her new copy of Advanced Rune Translation. "I know where you're going with this —"

"It's happened," whispered Harry slowly, his eyes widening. "He's one of them!"

"Uh," Ron balked, utterly confused. "One of what?"

"Harry is under the impression that Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater," said Hermione sharply, although there was a hint of disbelief. "Which, mind you, is very unlikely."

There was a silence, then Ron erupted in laughter. "You're barking. He's sixteen, Harry! What would You-Know-Who want with a sod like Malfoy?"

Harry clenched his jaw, muttering, "His father's a Death Eate—"

"Is that all the proof you've got?" countered Hermione, closing her book at once. "Because if that's what you're basing this accusation off of, you might as well have accused Charlie as well."

For the first time, Harry's gaze had shifted. His emerald eyes landed upon a uncharacteristically quiet Charlie, who was sitting on his bed and twiddling his wand in his hands, although his face was tilted shamefully downwards to avoid speculation.

Charlie didn't know what to say. It felt like his entire body was on fire and his limbs had gone stiff. He had to fight every nerve in his body not to flinch at the term. Instead, he took a deep breath.

"That's completely different," Harry pressed on stubbornly, saving Charlie from the attention that had fallen upon him. "Malfoy showed Borgin something we couldn't see. It was the Mark, I know it wa—"

"Can we just drop this for now?" Charlie suggested, avoiding a dangerously tempting look from Hermione. "Not exactly something I want to talk about after all that's been going on."

That was seemingly the end of the conversation for now. Harry slouched in his seat, clearly annoyed. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

"You know," Ron began softly, "Mum wants our trunks ready tonight, so we don't have the usual last-minute scramble... we should probably get packing."

And in fact, their departure the following morning was smoother than usual. The Ministry cars glided up to the front of the Burrow to find them waiting, trunks packed; the core four's pets were safely enclosed in their traveling cages.

"Au revoir, 'Arlie," beamed Fleur throatily, kissing him goodbye. Ron hurried forward, looking hopeful, but Ginny stuck out her foot and Ron fell, sprawling in the dust at Fleur's feet. Furious, red-faced, and dirt-spattered, he hurried into the car without saying goodbye.

There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for them at King's Cross Station. Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forward the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, marched them into the station without speaking.

"Quick, quick, through the barrier," said Mrs. Weasley, who seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency. "Come along now —"

Charlie pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier, ignoring his silent Auror companion, and found himself, a second later, standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd.

Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys joined him within seconds. Without waiting to consult his grim-faced Auror, Harry motioned to his friends to follow him up the platform, looking for an empty compartment.

"You'd better get straight on the train, all of you, you've only got a few minutes to go," urged Mrs. Weasley, consulting her watch. "Well, have a lovely term, Ron..."

There was a whistle behind them; nearly everyone had boarded the train and the doors were closing. Bidding Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a quick farewell, Charlie helped his friends load the last of their things onto the train quickly.

"Now, dear, you and Harry are coming to us for Christmas, it's all fixed with Dumbledore, so we'll see you quite soon," waved Mrs. Weasley through the window, as Charlie slammed the door shut behind him and the train began to move. "You make sure you look after yourself and —"

The train was gathering speed.

" — be good and —"

Mrs. Weasley was jogging to keep up now.

" — stay safe!"

Charlie waved until the train had turned a corner and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were lost to view, then turned to find a compartment. The lot of them made their way down the corridor, dragging their trunks along with them.

The blood-red sun peered in through the windows, staining the train interior with a deep scarlet. In the near distance, Elaina Dumont was spotted along the corridor, chatting mindlessly to her friends. Harry led the way towards her, his lips curling into a smile as he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey," muttered Harry, a little more nervously than he intended. "How are you?"

Turning around, Elaina smiled widely at the sight of her friends, "Hi! It was good, but I missed you lot!"

Harry grinned as though Elaina had said she only missed him. Charlie and Ron looked amusingly to one another, while Hermione silently scolded them for trying to ruin the moment.

"So, uh," Harry stuttered, scratching the back of his neck, "would you fancy trying to find a compartment? We could talk and, you know, catch up."

"Oh, I would love to... but I can't," Elaina said brightly, but Harry's face faltered. "I'm sorry, it's just I told Theo I'd meet him."

"Theo?" questioned Charlie, his eyebrow raised suggestively. "As in Theodore Nott?"

Elaina blushed, sheepishly tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "Well, yeah... my boyfriend."

Harry's eyes bulged out of their sockets.

"Your boyfriend? What? When did that happen?"

"At the end of last year," Elaina explained coyly, clearly unaware of Harry's saddened state. "I guess I just forgot to mention it... anyways, we'll catch up later, okay?"

"Okay," muttered Harry, and he watched her as she walked away, her long brown hair dancing behind her. He felt a strange twinge of annoyance deep in his chest.

"Don't worry, mate," said Charlie sympathetically, nudging Harry lightly. "She'll come 'round."

With a simple nod, Harry set back off down the corridor without saying another word. Hermione, Charlie, and Ron shared a quick look, but followed nonetheless, pushing through the crowd of mesmerized girls that were gaping at the 'Chosen One'.

"Hi guys!" came a familiar voice from behind him.

"Neville!" muttered Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him and his friends.

"Hello, Charlie," said a girl with long blonde hair and large misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.

"Luna, hi, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you," beamed Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside.

"The Quibbler still going strong, then?" asked Harry, who felt a certain fondness for the magazine.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up," said Luna happily.

"Let's find seats," smiled Hermione, and the six of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment and Charlie hurried inside gratefully.

"I got a new wand, by the way! Cherry and unicorn hair," Neville beamed proudly as they got settled. "We think it was one of the last Ollivander ever sold, he vanished next da— oi, come back here, Trevor!"

And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.

"Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of The Quibbler.

"No point now that we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?" said Harry, sitting down. Neville bumped his head against the seat as he emerged from under it. He looked most disappointed.

"I liked the D.A.! I learned loads with you!"

"I enjoyed the meetings too, if I'm honest," muttered Ron, who threw his trunk upon the luggage rack with the utmost force.

Luna nodded serenely, "It was like having friends."

This was one of those uncomfortable things Luna often said, which made Charlie feel a squirming mixture of pity and embarrassment. Before he could respond, however, there was a disturbance outside their compartment door; a group of familiar-sounding girls were whispering and giggling together on the other side of the glass.

"You ask him!"

"No, you!"

"I'll do it!"

And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes and long curly black hair pushed her way through the door; oh, the infamous Romilda Vane.

"Hey, Charlie," she waved flirtatiously, standing confidently in the doorway. "I was wondering if you'd like to join us in our compartment? It must be awfully awkward for you after what's happened," she added in a stage whisper, indicating towards Hermione, who's face was evidently raging from behind her book.

"He's fine here," Hermione growled, snapping her book closed. She turned towards Charlie, her eyes narrowing as though to tell him not to say anything stupid, "Aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah," Charlie nodded, slightly terrified of the honey-brown haired girl next to him.

"Oh," frowned Romilda, looking discouraged. "Oh, okay. Hopefully another time perhaps?"

Charlie didn't dare move, perfectly aware that Hermione would pounce on him if he even attempted to do anything. Sighing heavily, Romilda withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her.

"She's pathetically relentless," muttered Hermione under her breath, her hands shaking.

"You know," Charlie began in a soft, subtle tone as he leaned over to ghost his lips over Hermione's ear, "jealousy isn't a good look on you."

Stunned, Hermione whipped her head around. Their eyes met intensely, leaving them both speechless. Somehow the rest of the compartment had fallen silent, making it feel as though it was just the two of them together for what felt like the umpteenth time.

After testing fate for a second longer, her eyes flickering down to his lips, Hermione pulled herself together.

She pushed him back harshly, muttering, "I hate you."

But Charlie sniggered lightly to himself, countering with a simple, "You love me."

Hermione's face had softened after hearing the word leave his lips; she thought he'd maybe never say it again. Right as she was about to press him on the matter, however, Ron's voice echoed around her, pulling her back to reality.

"Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I'm starving," he grumbled longingly, gazing helplessly out the window and rubbing his stomach.

The weather beyond the train windows was as patchy as it had been all summer; they passed through stretches of the chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom, Charlie Hawthorne and Harry P-Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet. She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry and Charlie took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

"What is it?" Ron demanded, as Harry unrolled his.

"It's an invitation," shrugged Charlie, brandishing his letter in his hands.

Charlie,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Neville, looking perplexedly at his own invitation.

"New teacher," muttered Harry, effortlessly. "Well, I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?"

"But what does he want me for?" inquired Neville nervously, as though he was expecting detention.

"No idea," said Charlie, which was not entirely true, though he had no proof yet that his hunch was correct.

"Listen," Harry added, seized by a sudden brain wave, "let's go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we might get a good look at Malfoy on the way, see what he's up to."

This idea, however, came to nothing; the corridors, which were packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, were impossible to negotiate while wearing the cloak. Harry stowed it regretfully back in his bag, and Charlie was internally thanking an unknown higher power... he couldn't bare dealing with Malfoy right now.

When they reached compartment C, Charlie, Neville, and Harry realized immediately that they were not Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, they were the most warmly anticipated.

"Harry, m'boy!" beamed Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of the three boys so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, and you as well, Charles! So good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!"

Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat down opposite each other in the only three empty seats, which were nearest the door.

Charlie glanced around at their fellow guests. He recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall dark-skinned boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-year boys Charlie did not know, although he recognized one from the twins' joke shop, and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Elaina.

"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Charlie, Harry and Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course —"

Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, nor did Charlie, Harry or Neville; Gryffindor and Slytherin students loathed each other on principle.

"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other? No?"

McLaggen, the boy who had once gaped at Hermione, raised a hand. Harry and Neville nodded back at him, but Charlie had to forcefully resist himself from glaring.

"And this is Marcus Belby, I don't know if you already know one another — ?"

Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

"— and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.

Elaina grimaced at Charlie, Harry and Neville from behind Slughorn's back.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," sighed Slughorn cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on Licorice Wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things... pheasant, Belby?"

Belby started, and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told the three Gryffindor boys, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant, and so, talked through a mouthful of food, giving Charlie a vivid reminder of Ron's inability to stop eating.

"No, not much of him, no," muttered Belby, food particles spitting from his mouth. "Er... he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..."

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

"Now, you, Cormac," waved Slughorn, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," grinned Cormac, and Charlie had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour — this was before he became Minister, obviously —"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me..."

It was as Charlie had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential.

Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother, who was undoubtedly rich. It was Neville's turn next; this was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies.

At the end of Neville's interview, Slughorn quickly moved to Harry, his eyes contemplating him as though he was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, "'The Chosen One,' they're calling you now, aren't they?"

Harry said nothing. Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini were all staring at him.

"Of course," continued Slughorn, watching Harry closely, "there have been rumors for years... I remember when, well, after that terrible night... when you survived. The word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary —"

Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused skepticism. Suddenly, an angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn.

"Yeah, Zabini, because you're so talented... at posing..."

"Oh dear!" chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking around at Elaina, who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn's great belly. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"

Zabini merely looked contemptuous. Harry, on the other hand, gazed lovingly at Elaina from across the room as though he was touched by her need to defend him.

"Anyways," beamed Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compere introducing his star act. "Charles, my boy! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!"

Charlie, who could not see any way out of this without sounding disingenuous, nodded but said nothing. Nonetheless, Slughorn beamed at him.

"So modest, so modest! No doubt your father has shaped you into a remarkable young man! So sensational, of course, your father... how is he? Oho! It's been ages since I've seen him. I remember dear Fenwick telling me —"

He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but Charlie had the distinct impression that Slughorn had not finished with him. Despite this, however, Charlie had tuned out at the mention of his father, unwilling to listen to such praises about a monster.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the 'Slug Club' at Hogwarts. Charlie could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally, the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on Nogtails. Harry, Charlie, Blaise... any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Elaina. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

As he pushed past Charlie into the darkening corridor, Zabini shot him a filthy look that both Harry and Charlie returned with interest. The two boys, Elaina, and Neville followed Zabini back along the train.

"I'm glad that's over," muttered Neville as they walked back through the corridor. "Strange man, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is a bit," grumbled Harry, his eyes on Zabini. "How come you ended up in there, Elaina?"

"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith," explained Elaina, shrugging modestly. "You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him — when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get a detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

"Better reason for inviting someone than because their mother's famous," said Charlie, scowling at the back of Zabini's head, "or because their uncle..."

But he broke off.

For Harry Potter had disappeared.

Despite Hogsmeade Station being less than half an hour away, judging by the wildness of the scenery flashing by the windows, Harry had scurried off after Zabini without a trace of suspicion.

"Bloody hell," muttered Charlie under his breath, as realization dawned on him. "Why the fuck can't one thing go right for once?"

For Charlie knew, that since no one was seemingly prepared to take Harry's suspicions seriously, the boy with glasses would undoubtedly try to prove them —

Charlie gulped.

You know, if Harry didn't let this go, who knows what he might discover...

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

Hope you enjoyed!

Lots of sexual tension stuff in this chapter ahhh

Bare with me guys, these first few chapters are always the most boring ones... it'll start getting a lot more interesting from now on.

[insert begging for comments and votes]

Much love to all of you <3

xo, Selena