CHAPTER ELEVEN:

Third Person P.O.V.:

Charlie wasn't exactly sure where he was going. All he knew was that his selfless conscience was driving him as far away from Ron Weasley as humanely possible. At the same time, however, his anger was trying to convince him to go back and unleash himself; he wouldn't give in, of course, but the thoughts were all too embedded in his mind.

Harry Potter followed in his friend's wake, mimicking every step Charlie took out of the castle and onto the school grounds.

"Oi, wait up, will you?" he called. "Where on earth are you going?"

Charlie growled, "Away from Ron before I do something I'll regret."

The boy with glasses sighed, increasing his pace to settle alongside his friend as they walked through the grounds, the sun shining down upon them. Harry watched Charlie intently, noticing his tensed features; his jaw was clenched, his fists were balled up, and his eyes had become almost as black as his irises.

"Listen," Harry said softly, pulling back on his friend's arm to make him stop, "Ron was being a prat, okay? I know that believe me, but it isn't worth getting so upset ever. He's not in a right state."

Charlie scoffed, avoiding eye contact, "I don't give a damn whether he's in his right state or not. That doesn't justify punching me in the face!"

"I know that," Harry sighed, shrugging slightly. "And I'm not taking his side by any means, but try and understand it from his perspective, will you? The girl he is in love with -"

"The girl he is in love with?" Charlie repeated, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You mean, my girlfriend? My girlfriend, Harry! I mean, for goodness sakes, why couldn't he have fancied anyone else?!"

"Well, I suppose Ron is thinking the same thing about you," Harry shrugged, smiling uneasily in attempt to lighten the mood. "Look, it was a bit of a shock for Ron, finding out like that, but he'll come 'round, I'm sure."

"And if he doesn't?" Charlie questioned, feeling slightly discouraged; his face falling slightly.

"Well... I reckon Hermione is going to be hard one to get over," Harry said gently, "and no doubt, it'll take some time, but you don't have to worry about that. She chose you, didn't she? And she undoubtedly loves you... anyone with eyes can see that. Seems to me like you've got nothing to worry about."

Charlie gulped, feeling torn between the fluttery feeling he received by being reminded of Hermione's undeniable love for him, and the potentially tarnished reality of his and Ron's friendship.

"What's going to happen to us now?" he asked, his anger fading into worry. "What does this mean for Ron and me?"

"You're best mates," Harry smiled, clapping his friend on the back. "And it'll be a damn shame if you let a girl get between you."

Charlie sighed, running his hands through his hair, "She's not just any girl though."

"Doesn't matter, because at the end of the day," Harry began, sounding hopeful, "we've all been friends for far too long to let something this stupid come between us."

"I suppose you're right," said Charlie, frowning slightly.

"It'll all figure itself out," Harry laughed, turning to continue to walk forward. "But it's not worth getting cross over; this whole thing is beyond control. No one can choose who they fall for. I mean, I would know, wouldn't I?"

"Oi," Charlie laughed, following behind his friend, "admitting that you've fallen for the youngest Weasley, are you, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, laughing, "Dunno."

Feeling ten times better than he had been moments before, Charlie followed Harry to Hagrid's cabin, as they both had subconsciously agreed to stay away from the castle for awhile. They knocked twice on the cabin door, but there was no answer.

Thinking back to his earlier visit with Hermione, Charlie recalled Hagrid emerging out from the forest upon their arrival. Naturally, one would only assume that Hagrid must be off tending to something in the Forest. And so, Charlie and Harry turned and strode straight into the trees in search of a friendly half-giant.

They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow at all on the ground. To their ultimate surprise, it was not Hagrid who occupied the area in the Forest, but dreamy Luna Lovegood, barefooted and content.

"Luna?" Charlie called gently, being mindful of startling the blonde girl. "Are you alright? What're you doing out here?"

The blonde-haired Ravenclaw whipped around, beaming, "Hello Charlie Hawthorne. Hello Harry Potter."

"Your feet," Harry said blankly, incredibly confused, "aren't they cold?"

"Bit," Luna shrugged, but her smile never faltered. "Unfortunately, all my shoes have mysteriously disappeared... I suspect Nargles are behind it."

"What're you doing out here?" Charlie repeated, trying to avoid asking the obvious question about Nargles for the third time.

"Visiting," Luna said dreamily. "Hagrid let's me come see them whenever I like... he says they like the company."

"Them?" Harry questioned, sharing a very discrete glance of amusement with Charlie.

Luna said nothing, but instead, pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom, and a moment later, the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed Charlie and Harry for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then raised its head to catch a piece of apple that Luna had, coincidentally, pulled from her robes; the beast munched loudly with its pointed fangs.

A great wave of relief broke over Charlie. After thinking that he might've been imagining these creatures, here at last, was proof that they were real. He looked eagerly at Harry, and noticed his friend staring up in awe; he could see them too.

Charlie instantly whipped his head back around to Luna, looking for answers, "What're they?"

"They're called Thestrals," beamed Luna, smiling up at them contently. "They're quite gentle, really, but people avoid them because they're a bit... different."

Harry snapped out of his gaze upon hearing this comment, his eyes growing wide in intrigue, "Why can't anyone else see them?"

"They only appear to those who have seen or experienced death," explained Luna as she pulled another piece of fruit from her pocket.

Charlie and Harry shared a confused glance, both subconsciously thinking the same thing:

"But I've never witnessed anyone die before?"

"Nor have I."

"Well, if you really think about it, you died for a few moments in June of last year, didn't you?" said Luna, her eyes focusing on Charlie. "And Harry was there to witness it, so I suppose it only makes sense..."

(A/N: we're just gonna ignore JK's Thestral plothole, okay? lmfaoooo, I can't be bothered to fix it)

"Well, I suppose," muttered Charlie, shuddering slightly at the mention of that night.

Harry shook his head, shrugging off the horrid memories that occupied his thoughts; he turned to Luna, "So you've known someone who's died, then?"

"My mum," Luna answered sadly, nodding, "She was quite an extraordinary witch, but she did like to experiment... and one day, one of her spells went horribly wrong - I was nine."

Charlie frowned, his heart pinged with sadness, "I'm sorry."

"Yes, it was rather horrible," said Luna softly, avoiding eye contact by petting the Thestral. "I do feel very sad about it sometimes, but I've got my dad..." She paused for a moment before changing the subject, "We both believe you, by the way... that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and that you two faced him, and the Ministry and the Prophet are conspiring against the two of you."

The two Gryffindor boys shared a saddened glance; Charlie stuffed his hands awkwardly into his pockets as Harry shifted the glasses on his face.

"Thanks," Harry said shortly after, interrupting a moment of silence. "You're part of a very small group of people who do."

"I don't think that's true," hummed Luna, her eyes falling upon the Thestrals once again; Charlie and Harry looking at her, however, curiously. "But I suppose that's how he wants you to feel."

Charlie furrowed his brows, "What do you mean?"

"Well, if I were You-Know-Who," began Luna, shifting her gaze to Harry specifically, "I'd want you to be cut off from everyone else... because if it's just you alone, you're not that much of a threat, are you?"

Although undoubtedly directed at Harry, Luna's words seemed to resonate deeply within Charlie. He couldn't help but apply the same words of wisdom to the situation with his father -

"I best be off," Luna beamed, feeding the Thestral one last time. "Nice seeing you two. Continue to watch out for Nargles, will you?"

And with that, she skipped her way back towards the castle, leaving Charlie and Harry alone with the Thestrals; both of them sharing thoughts of curiosity and confusion, which was basically the typical aftermath of an encounter with Luna Lovegood.

---------------

A short while later, Charlie and Harry made their way back through the castle grounds, walked through deserted corridors, and up towards Gryffindor Tower. Charlie had significantly calmed down since his fight with Ron, thanks to the help of Harry, and was ready to go and face the expected pestering questions of his worried girlfriend.

To his surprise, however, when he and Harry stepped through the portrait hole a few minutes later, Hermione seemed too preoccupied with her loud and angry shouts of accusation to notice anything else:

"IF YOU EVER LAY ANOTHER HAND ON MY BOYFRIEND, RONALD WEASLEY," she began in a threatening tone, "I WILL CURSE EVERYTHING YOU OWN!"

Before Ron could even rebuttal in self-defence, there was a loud slapping sound that could be heard for miles, followed by a shriek of surprise from another person in the room.

"Stop Hermione!" came Ron's scared voice. "Merlin! Calm down, you don't even know what happened!"

"I DON'T CARE! I'M WARNING YOU RONALD!" screamed Hermione; Charlie and Harry shared an alarmed glance in the doorway. "I SWEAR TO MERLI- GINNY LET ME GO!"

"No, this is ridiculous," came Ginny's voice, although it was muffled through a fit of laughter as she added, "but so damn funny."

Turning the corner, both Charlie and Harry's jaws fell to the floor. Standing before them, in a scene that radiated intensity, were Hermione, Ron and Ginny. The ginger haired boy was stood upon the table in the middle of the room, caressing the side of his face and trying to shield himself from the flying books that were being thrown by Hermione, who was held tight in the grasp of Ginny across the room, thus preventing her from lunging at Ron; the bushy haired girl's eyes were lit with a burning rage.

In what felt like slow motion, Charlie watched as Hermione broke free of Ginny's grasp, lifted herself up and over the couch before trying to lunge forward, activating attack mode on the cowering ginger stood atop of the coffee table. Thinking quickly, Charlie ran forward and scooped Hermione up in his arms before she made contact with Ron's face. Hermione kicked and screamed, failing to realize who had stopped her from engaging in a fight; all that mattered to her was breaking free.

"LET GO!" she yelled, her deadly eyes still locked on her target. "HE DESERVES WHAT I'M ABOUT TO DO TO HIM! YOU COMPLETE ARSE, RONALD WEASLEY! LIKE TO HIT PEOPLE, DO YOU? LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT WHEN IT'S THE OTHER WAY AROU-"

"Baby, calm down," Charlie cooed in her ear, and almost immediately, Hermione came to a halt. He continued through a soft chuckle, "As endearing as I find it to be, you know, you defending me and all, I'd rather not be a witness to a murder."

Hermione's fury-filled face quickly softened upon hearing Charlie's voice, and she fell silent as she buried her head into his chest, relieved that he had returned. Ginny's howls of laughter could still be heard in the background, along with Ron's whimpers of fear, but Hermione didn't seem to care. In fact, she simply wrapped her arms around her boyfriend instead, smiling contently against the crook of his neck as he set her back down.

Charlie laughed slightly upon witnessing Hermione's quick change in mood, "That's my girl."

Wrapping an arm around his girlfriend, Charlie turned to face the rest of the group; Ginny and Harry were sharing amused glances as Ron hopped down off of the table, looking incredibly ashamed.

Scratching the back of his neck, he stepped forward, avoiding eye contact, "Listen, I-I n-never meant t-to -"

"It was a misunderstanding," Charlie dismissed, shrugging slightly. "We fought and things got heated, is all."

"Misunderstanding," Hermione muttered in disgust, anger returning in her voice as she glared up at Ron from within Charlie's arms. "And what kind of argument, may I ask, provoked such foul behaviour? What was it about?"

This made Ginny's ears perk up from across the room; both girls were now glancing curiously between the three boys, awaiting an answer. Harry fixed his glasses once again in attempt to avoid the question, and Charlie glanced to Ron, who simply gulped from the attention.

"W-Well, it w-was about..." Ron trailed off, his hands beginning to shake from the fear of having Hermione find out the truth.

"The whole Prefect thing," Charlie interjected with a lie, saving Ron from his misery. "It was stupid, really."

"R-Right," stuttered Ron, his eyes growing wide slightly, but Charlie simply nodded in response, telling him to go along with it.

Hermione, however, didn't seem to believe this story as she looked between the two boys with a raised brow, glancing at them accusingly. In attempt to help the situation, Charlie untangled himself from his girlfriend and stepped forward, sticking a hand out towards Ron.

"We're good?" he asked, his voice slightly uneasy. "It won't happen again, will it?"

For a moment, Ron stood still and stared at Charlie in disbelief. Only when he sensed his friends looking at him in anticipation did the ginger take a step forward, linking his hand with Charlie's and shaking it firmly. The unnerving part, however, was that Ron said nothing and gave no indication of reconciliation besides that handshake. In fact, after the two of them released hands, Ron simply turned and walked up to the dorm room without further interaction.

"Foul and intolerable tosser," said Hermione angrily, watching the ginger disappear up the stairs. Shaking her head, she turned and linked her hand with Charlie's, pulling him towards the door, "Come on then, let's go get some ice for that bruise of yours."

Nodding slowly as he tore his sad eyes from Ron's direction, Charlie allowed Hermione to pull him towards the portrait hole once again. They were just about to step out into the corridor completely when they heard Ginny's exasperated sigh from the depths of the common room.

"Boys are so damn confusing," she muttered, sniggering slightly as it sounded as though she had fallen down upon the couch, curling up to Harry no doubt, as his laugh quickly followed hers.

----------------

Dinner that night was incredibly awkward to say the least. Ron had barely spoken since his breakdown in the common room, and Charlie didn't have the energy to continue to press him on the matter. Ginny and Harry, in contrast, were mindlessly relishing in their relationship now that the attention was off of them, and Hermione had obliviously found comfort by sitting close to Charlie, much to Ron's obvious irritation, which she didn't seem to notice.

Regardless, after clambering back into the common room and giving Hermione a discrete goodnight kiss, Charlie stumbled up the stairs towards his shared dorm room with Harry and Ron. The three boys pulled off their robes and put on pyjamas in a tense-filled silence; Dean, Seamus and Neville were already asleep. Charlie moved a sleeping Ludo over slightly and got into bed, but did not pull the hangings closed around his four-poster; instead, he stared at the patch of starry sky visible through the window next to Neville's bed -

If he had known, this time last night, that in twenty-four hours' time his world would be flipped upside down...

"Night," grunted Ron, from somewhere to his right.

"Night," responded Harry softly, taking his glasses off and putting them on his bedside table.

"Goodnight," whispered Charlie, but when the lights went out, his eyes remained open and his thoughts ran wild.

Would Ron be mad at him forever?

Next time they fought... if there was a next time... would things escalate more than just a punch in the face?

Charlie laid awake, his mind instilling thoughts of doubt in his head as he was reminded just how quickly things could change. At this point, he was starting to believe that his relationship with Hermione was causing more harm then good...

With more people finding out and Umbridge lurking about, it was only a matter of time before Fenwick heard the news, making Hermione an easy target. Normally, Charlie would shudder at the mere idea of Hermione in danger, but he suddenly felt this gut-wrenching realization deep within him; his love for Hermione would ultimately be what put her in danger...

And now, with Ron's revelation, it not only made Charlie wonder if his friend would ever forgive him, but it also had him question if maybe, just maybe, Hermione would be better off without him -

Maybe she'd be better off with someone who didn't have a father who is willing to kill to conceal the truth...

Someone who would love her unconditionally, and wasn't scared to tell her out of fear of what it could mean...

Someone like Ron...

God, if Hermione knew you were even thinking about this, he thought, she'd kill you.

...but what if he had a right to worry?

Charlie closed his eyes tightly and sat up, running his hands over his face. He hadn't realized it, but he had been consumed in his thoughts for a little over an hour now, and his friends seemed fast asleep... well, except for one.

With the loud sounds of movement and the squeaking of a bed spring, Charlie whipped his head to the left where Harry's bed was. His eyes widened in shock upon witnessing his friend convulse in panic underneath his bedcovers.

Pulling his own covers off of himself, Charlie leapt out of his bed to move and peer down over Harry to make sure he was alright. His face fell, however, upon realization that Harry was covered in a thin layer of sweat and appeared to be muttering under his breath:

"I must... m-master impulse... bite him... KILL him..."

"Harry," Charlie whispered, shaking his friend slightly. When nothing happened, he shook his friend harsher, screaming, "HARRY!"

His screams seemed loud enough to wake Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville, who all groggily sat up, their eyes widening in horror as all of their heads flooded with déjà vu of Sirius Black's attack in third year. The ginger was the first to jump out of bed, and he came rushing to his friend's aid.

"What's going on?" Ron asked Charlie, clearly panicked as he looked down at Harry. "Bloody hell, what's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," said Charlie, his tone provoking worry. "He looks like he's having a fit or something."

"Oi, Harry!" Ron called, shaking him. "HARRY! WAKE UP!"

With a jolt, Harry's eyes opened wide. Every inch of his body was covered in an icy sweat; his bed covers were twisted all around him like a strait-jacket; he felt as though a white-hot poker were being applied to his forehead.

"Harry!" gasped Charlie, relieved. "Merlin, are you alright?"

Harry looked up. Both Charlie and Ron were standing over him looking extremely frightened as other figures seemed to gather at the foot of his bed. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him... and without answering Charlie, he rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress.

"He's ill," grunted Charlie, his face crunching in disgust. "Maybe we should call someone?"

Ron shook his head, reaching out for Harry once more, "Harry? HARRY! Are you okay?"

Taking a huge gulp of air, Harry pushed himself up in bed, willing himself not to throw up again although the pain was half-blinding him. In a sharp movement, he grabbed ahold of Ron's pyjamas harshly.

"Your dad," he panted, his chest heaving and his grip tightening. "Your dad's... been attacked..."

"What?" said Ron uncomprehendingly. "What are you on about?"

"Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere..."

"Oi," called Charlie, turning to address Dean, Seamus and Neville at the foot of the bed, "will one of you go find some help, please?"

Shortly after, there were three fleeting sets of footsteps heard running out of the dormitory. Turning back to his sickly friend, Charlie tried his best to control the situation.

"Harry, mate," he said uncertainly, "y-you were just dreaming..."

"No!" snapped Harry furiously; it was crucial that they understood. "It wasn't a dream... not an ordinary dream... I was there, I saw it... I did it..."

Charlie and Ron shared a frightened glance, but Harry didn't seem to notice; the pain in his forehead was subsiding slightly, though he was still sweating and shivering feverishly. He retched again and Ron leapt backwards out of the way.

"Harry, you're not well," he said shakily. "Don't worry though, help is coming."

"I'm fine!" Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pyjamas and shaking uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about... we need to find out where he is! He's bleeding like mad... I was - it was a huge snake."

He tried to get out of bed, but Charlie pushed him back into it; Ron watched in horror. Whether one minute passed or ten, Charlie did not know, he simply sat there holding his friend still until there were hurried footsteps coming up the stairs, and he heard Neville's voice.

"Over here, Professor."

Professor McGonagall came hurrying into the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her bony nose.

"What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?"

Charlie had never been so pleased to see McGonagall; it was a member of the Order of the Phoenix Harry needed now, not someone fussing over him and prescribing useless potions.

"It's Ron's dad," Harry said, sitting up again. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen."

"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" said Professor McGonagall, her dark eyebrows contracting.

"I don't know... I was asleep and then I was there..."

"You mean you dreamed this?"

"No!" said Harry angrily. "I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it. Mr. Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is..."

Professor McGonagall was gazing at him through her lopsided spectacles as though horrified at what she was seeing.

"I'm not lying and I'm not mad!" Harry told her, his voice rising to a shout. "I tell you, I saw it happen!"

"I believe you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly. "Put on your robes - we're going to see the Headmaster. Mr. Hawthorne and Mr. Weasley, you ought to come too."

Nodding hastily, Charlie moved over to his trunk at once, pulled on his robes over his bare torso and tucked his wand inside one of his pockets. Shortly after, the three Gryffindor boys followed Professor McGonagall past the silent figures of Neville, Dean and Seamus, out of the dormitory, down the spiral stairs into the common room, through the portrait hole and off along the Fat Lady's moonlit corridor.

Charlie watched Harry with curiosity, worried that the panic inside him might spill over at any moment. He wanted nothing more than for his friend to get help from his grandfather, and so when they had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office a few minutes later, Charlie was the first one to say the password:

"Fizzing Whizzbee!"

The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continually upwards like a spiral escalator. The four of them stepped on to the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud and they were moving upwards in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin.

Though it was now well past midnight there were voices coming from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people.

Charlie rapped three times with the griffin knocker and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led Charlie, Harry and Ron inside.

The room was in half-darkness; the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red and gold bird, the size of a swan, dozed on its perch with its head under its wing.

"Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall... and... ah."

Dumbledore was sitting in a high-backed chair behind his desk; he leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. He was wearing a magnificently embroidered purple and gold dressing gown over a snowy white nightshirt, but seemed wide-awake, his penetrating light blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a... well, a nightmare," said Professor McGonagall. "He sa-"

"It wasn't a nightmare," said Harry quickly, cutting McGonagall off.

Professor McGonagall looked round at Harry, frowning slightly. "Very well, then, Potter, you tell the Headmaster about it."

"I... well, I was asleep..." said Harry and, even in his terror and his desperation to make Dumbledore understand, he felt slightly irritated that the Headmaster was not looking at him. "But it wasn't an ordinary dream... it was real... I saw it happen..." He took a deep breath, "Ron's dad - Mr. Weasley - has been attacked by a giant snake."

The words seemed to reverberate in the air after he had said them, sounding slightly ridiculous, even comical. There was a pause in which Dumbledore leaned back and stared meditatively at the ceiling. Charlie looked from Harry to Dumbledore, white-faced and shocked.

"How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Harry.

"Well... I don't know," said Harry, rather angrily; what did it matter? "Inside my head, I suppose-"

"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. "I mean... can you remember... where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"

This was such a curious question that Harry gaped at Dumbledore; Charlie's ears perked up with curiosity.

"I was the snake," Harry muttered, slightly ashamed to let the words leave his mouth. "I saw it all from the snake's point of view."

Nobody else spoke for a moment, then Dumbledore, now looking at Ron who appeared frightful, asked in a new and sharper voice, "Is Arthur seriously injured?"

"Yes," said Harry emphatically, still taken aback at the fact that Dumbledore had yet to look at him.

But Dumbledore stood up, so quickly it made Charlie jump, and addressed one of the old portraits hanging very near the ceiling.

"Everard?" he said sharply. "And you too, Dilys!"

A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.

"You were listening?"

The wizard nodded; the witch said, "Naturally."

"The man has red hair and glasses," said Dumbledore. "Arthur is on guard duty tonight, make sure he is found by the right people."

Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures (as usually happened at Hogwarts) neither reappeared. One frame now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather armchair. Charlie noticed that many of the other headmasters and mistresses on the walls, though snoring and drooling most convincingly, kept sneaking peeks at him from under their eyelids, and he suddenly understood who had been talking when they had knocked.

Not long after, there was a shout from the top of the wall to their right; the wizard called Everard had reappeared in his portrait, panting slightly.

"Dumbledore!"

"What news?" said Dumbledore at once.

"They've got him, Albus," said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him. "It was close, but they think he'll make it. He's on the way to the hospital now."

Nodding, Dumbledore marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the Slytherin colours of green and silver, and was apparently sleeping so deeply that he could not hear Dumbledore's voice when he attempted to rouse him.

"Phineas. Phineas!"

The subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, trying to find a position that was better to watch what was happening. When the clever-looking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name, too.

"Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!"

He could not pretend any longer; he gave a theatrical jerk and opened his eyes wide.

"Did someone call?"

"I need you to visit your other portrait in Grimmauld Place, Phineas," demanded Dumbledore, resting his hands on his hips in annoyance. "I've got another message. Tell Sirius that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children, Harry Potter and Charlie Hawthorne will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?"

"Arthur Weasley injured, wife and children, Hawthorne's boy and Potter coming to stay," repeated Phineas in a bored voice. "Yes, yes... very well..."

He sloped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view at the very moment that Dumbledore whipped back around towards Everard once again.

"What's more?"

Everard sighed, expressing relief, "The Dark Lord failed to acquire it."

"Oh, thank goodness," sighed Dumbledore before he turned to McGonagall, "Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children, bring them here."

"Of course..."

Professor McGonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door. Charlie cast a sideways glance at Ron, who was looking terrified.

"And Dumbledore - what about Molly?" said Professor McGonagall, pausing at the door.

"I'll send Fawkes," dismissed Dumbledore at once. "But she may already know... that excellent clock of hers..."

Charlie knew that his grandfather was referring to the clock that told, not the time, but the whereabouts and conditions of the various Weasley family members, and with a pang of sadness he thought that Mr. Weasley's hand must, even now, be pointing at mortal peril...

Lost in his thoughts, it took Charlie a minute to realize that, moments later, the study door opened again. Fred, George and Ginny were ushered inside by Professor McGonagall, all three of them looking dishevelled and shocked, still in their night things.

"Harry - what's going on?" asked Ginny, who looked frightened. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt -"

"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore, before anyone could speak. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there."

"How're we going?" asked Fred, looking shaken. "Floo powder?"

"No," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, "Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey." He indicated an old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "We must move quickly, it won't be long now until Professor Umbridge finds out that all of you are out of your beds... Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story -"

Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan.

"Come here, then," Dumbledore called to Charlie, Harry and the Weasley's. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us."

Charlie and the others gathered around Dumbledore's desk. Clapping a hand on his grandson's back, Albus whispered, loud enough for him to hear, "You be safe, okay? Stay out of trouble."

With a reluctant nod from his grandson, Dumbledore smiled slightly, but couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for leaving Charlie's mind to ponder so many questions. Shaking these thoughts off, he turned back to the group.

"You have all used a Portkey before?" he asked, and they nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. "Good. On the count of three, then... one... two... three."

Charlie felt a powerful jerk behind his navel, the ground vanished from beneath his feet, his hand was glued to the kettle; he was banging into the others as they all sped forwards in a swirl of colours and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onwards... until his feet hit the ground so hard his knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground, and somewhere close at hand a voice said:

"Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?"

"OUT!" roared a second voice.

Charlie scrambled to his feet and looked around; they had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. Kreacher was disappearing through the door down the hall, looking back at them malevolently as he hitched up his loincloth; Sirius was hurrying towards them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a whiff of stale alcohol about him.

"What's going on?" he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. "Phineas said Arthur's been badly injured -"

"Ask Harry," shrugged Fred, unaware.

George nodded, "Actually, I want to hear this for myself."

The twins and Ginny were staring at Harry, awaiting answers. Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside.

"Uh, well..." Harry began; this was even worse than telling McGonagall and Dumbledore. "I h-had a vision..."

And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. Ron, who was still very white, gave him a fleeting look as Charlie looked down, remaining silent. When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment.

Interrupting the silence, Charlie turned to Sirius, "Is Mrs. Weasley here?"

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," sighed Sirius, shrugging slightly. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now."

"We've got to go to St. Mungos," said Ginny urgently. She looked around at her brothers; they were, of course, still in their pyjamas. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?"

Sirius was taken aback, "Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!"

"'Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want," said Fred, with a mulish expression. "He's our dad!"

"And he's safe, isn't he?" Charlie said gently, not wanting to interfere too much. "He's getting the help he needs at the hospital. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother."

"He's right," agreed Sirius, urging the kids towards the table. "Come now, lets all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!"

He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of Sirius's meal, and stopped neatly in front of the seven of them. They all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling kitchen fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table.

Charlie was only drinking to have something to do with his hands. His stomach was full of horribly hot, bubbling worry; he hadn't told Hermione goodbye, and something didn't sit well with him knowing that she'd wake up tomorrow morning and all of her friends wouldn't be there...

He put his bottle down a little harder than he meant to, and it slopped over on to the table; no one took any notice. Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and, as they gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.

"Fawkes!" beamed Charlie at once, snatching up the parchment. "This isn't my grandfather's writing, it must be from your mother - here."

He thrust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: "Dad is okay. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum."

The room fell silent once again, and if Charlie had ever sat through a longer night than this one, he could not remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys' looks of disgust were answer enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure each other that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Mrs. Weasley must long since have arrived at St. Mungo's.

Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. George curled himself into his chair like a cat. Ginny had leaned her head against Harry's shoulder, her eyes flickering open every few seconds. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry, Sirius and Charlie looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting...

At ten past five in the morning by Charlie's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron Charlie, and Harry half-rising from their chairs, she gave a soft smile.

"He's going to be alright," she said, her voice weak with tiredness. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work."

Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one.

"Breakfast!" beamed Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!"

But Kreacher did not answer the summons.

"Oh, forget it, then," muttered Sirius, counting the people in front of him. "So, it's breakfast for - let's see - eight... bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast -"

Charlie hurried over to the stove to help; he didn't want to intrude on the Weasleys' moment of happiness. However, he had barely taken five steps from his seat at the table when Mrs. Weasley had moved over to him and pulled him into a hug.

"It's lovely to see you, dear," she said in a muffled voice. "Thank you for being here in our time of need."

"Anytime," said Charlie truthfully, reciprocating the hug. "It's good to see you too."

Truth be told, Charlie could hardly bare her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released him to turn to Harry and thank him for saving her husband. Not long after, Sirius told Mrs. Weasley that he was happy to look after the kids, and hoped they would all stay with him as long as Mr. Weasley was in hospital.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful... they think he'll be there for a few days and it would be wonderful to be nearer... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas."

"The more the merrier!" said Sirius with such obvious sincerity that Mrs. Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron and began to help with breakfast.

---------------

Falling asleep that night was quite the guilty process; no one wanted to be the one to fall asleep first. When they all did, however, they awoke the next morning and noticed that the their trunks had arrived from Hogwarts, so they could dress as Muggles for the trip to St. Mungo's.

As eager as ever, they set off for the hospital after lunch. Embarking on quite the journey through a shortcut in a store called, Purge & Dowse Ltd, the Weasley's, Harry and Charlie entered in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge's.

"Are they doctors?" Harry asked Charlie quietly, pointing at the emblem embroidered on the wizards' chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

"Doctors?" laughed Charlie, trying to lighten the mood. "Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers."

"Over here!" called Mrs. Weasley before Harry could respond, and they all followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked, Enquiries.

As the people in line began to slowly disappear, moving towards their respected wards, Mrs. Weasley moved towards the desk, ready for her turn.

"Hello," she said cheerfully, "my husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us - ?"

"Arthur Weasley?" said the blonde witch, running her finger down a long list in front of her. "Yes, first floor, second door on the right."

"Thank you," beamed Mrs. Weasley, "Come on, you lot."

They followed her through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with portraits of famous Healers. They passed by a section of the hospital for long-term spell effects, which gave Charlie a sad reminder that Neville's parents were somewhere around here, tortured into insanity; for some unknown reason, this provoked a vivid sense of déjà vu within him...

More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the Creature-Induced Injuries corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words: "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn Ward: Serious Bites.

"Well, I think it'd be best if we wait outside then," Charlie said gently, gesturing between himself and Harry. "I'm sure Mr. Weasley won't want too many visitors at once... it ought to be just the family first."

Harry nodded, drawing back to stand beside Charlie and behind everyone else. However, as soon as the two boys took a step back, Mrs. Weasley reached out her hands and dragged them both through the door.

"Don't be silly," Molly sighed, a heart-whelming smile curling on her face. "Harry, Arthur wants to thank you... and Charlie, seeing you will brighten his day, I'm sure."

Reluctantly nodding, Charlie followed the lot of them into the room. The ward was small and rather dingy, as the only window was narrow and set high on the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. There were only three patients, and Mr. Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window.

Charlie was pleasantly relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows and reading the Daily Prophet by the solitary ray of sunlight falling on to his bed. He looked up as they walked towards him and, seeing who it was, smiled widely.

"Hello!" he called, throwing the Prophet aside. "Bill just left, Molly... had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later."

"How are you, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Weasley, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. "You're still looking a bit peaky."

"I feel absolutely fine," said Mr. Weasley brightly, holding out his good arm to give Ginny a hug. "If they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home."

Fred furrowed his brows, asking, "Why can't they take them off, Dad?"

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try," said Mr. Weasley cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that seven extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat them all. "I have to take a blood-replenishing potion every hour or so... there was some rather unusual kind of poison in the snake's fangs that keeps wounds open, you see. They're sure they'll find an antidote, though!"

Fred nodded, pulling his chair closer, "So, are you going to tell us what happened?"

"Well, you already know, don't you?" questioned Mr. Weasley, glancing at Harry discretely. "A ruddy, old snake crept up behind me, and attacked me out of nowhere!"

"You were on duty, weren't you?" inquired Fred, lowering his voice. "What are they making you do that's so dangerous?"

George's ears perked up, "You were were guarding it, weren't you? The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who's after?"

"George, be quiet!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

This seemed to silence one twin, but the other continued to probe further.

"Didn't you say You-Know-Who's got a snake, Harry?" asked Fred, looking at his father for a reaction. "A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn't you?"

"That's enough," scolded Mrs. Weasley. "Go wait outside while I talk to your father. You can come and say goodbye afterwards. Go on."

Harry, Ron, Charlie, Fred, George and Ginny trooped back into the corridor, and almost immediately, the door of the ward closed behind them. Fred raised his eyebrows, sighing.

"Fine," he said coolly, rummaging in his pockets, "be like that. Don't tell us anything."

"Looking for these?" smirked George, holding out what looked like a tangle of flesh-coloured string.

"You read my mind," said Fred, grinning. "Let's see if St. Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?"

He and George disentangled the string and separated six Extendable Ears from each other, handing one to each of their siblings and Charlie and Harry. Inserting into his ear reluctantly, Charlie watched the flesh-coloured strings wriggle like long skinny worms and snake under the door. At first, he could hear nothing, then he jumped as he heard Mrs. Weasley's whispering as clearly as though she were standing right beside him.

"Harry saw it all happen," she said, sounding uneasy. "And Dumbledore seemed worried about the whole thing when I spoke to him this morning."

"He has a right to be worried, doesn't he?" inquired Mr. Weasley, sounding uncharacteristically anxious. "The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, Harry doesn't realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him-"

Arthur's voice trailed off in Charlie's head as his attention had been caught by Harry pulling the Extendable Ear out of his own. The boy with glasses looked around at his friends. They were all staring at him, the strings still trailing from their ears, looking suddenly fearful.

---------------

With very few words spoken from anyone, Mrs. Weasley led the way back to Grimmauld Place once again. Seconds after arrival, Harry scurried off, locking himself in his room and preventing others from talking to him. Charlie sighed watching his friend disappear.

Normally, he'd have every intent on going after Harry, but Charlie was exhausted. He was confused beyond measure, he had experienced terror, relief, then terror again in the last twelve hours, and was still completely unaware of what exactly was going on. He felt as though he had journeyed for miles and miles... it seemed impossible that less than twenty-four hours ago Ron had punched him in their fight...

A sense of foreboding overcame Charlie as he awaited dinner. Thinking about Hermione being alone at Hogwarts provoked the theory of Umbridge realizing that he, Harry, and the Weasleys had left. Meaning, it wasn't going to be long until his father was on the alert, and thus, searching for him, looking for answers.

But what would Charlie say?

The feeling of being trapped intensified. He half-wished he had not obeyed Dumbledore and stayed where he was, suddenly unwilling to be here for the Weasleys when they needed him most. With his internal struggle consuming him, Charlie did not go to dinner that night, and instead, went to bed early; he would not inflict his miserableness on others...

Everybody else spent the following morning putting up Christmas decorations. Charlie could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas. Charlie spoke very few words throughout the course of the day; the Weasley's were too preoccupied to notice, and Harry was continuing to isolate himself in the cold, drawing bedroom, sitting alone.

After lunch, Charlie retreated up the stairs, his father's threats had been looming over his head more than ever before. He managed to find an excuse for his absence in tending to Buckbeak, which everyone seemed to believe. In reality, however, he sat alone, watching the sky growing whiter outside the windows as he awaited the moment where his world would come crashing down with a single letter...

Around six o'clock in the evening the doorbell rang and Mrs. Black started screaming again. Assuming that Mundungus or some other Order member had come to call, Charlie merely settled himself more comfortably against the wall of Buckbeak's room, trying to ignore how hungry he felt as he fed dead rats to the hippogriff. It came as a slight shock, however, when somebody hammered hard on the door a few minutes later.

"I know you're in there," came Hermione's soft voice. "Will you please come out? I want to talk to you."

"What're you doing here?" Charlie asked, instantly getting up and pulling open the door; his ears had perked up and a smile curled its way onto his face. "I thought you would've left to go skiing with your mum and dad by now?"

"Well, to tell the truth, skiing's not really my thing," shrugged Hermione, sniggering slightly as she walked into the room; Charlie shut the door behind her. "So, I've come here for Christmas."

Charlie nodded, watching her contently; there was snow in her hair and her face was pink with cold.

"Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who is serious about our OWLs is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, so they'll understand. Besides," she said briskly, pulling off her jacket before moving to snake her arms around her boyfriend's neck, "I missed you."

Leaning down to connect their lips in a quick peck, Charlie hummed in content as they pulled back a moment later.

"I've missed you too," he said softly; his troubled mind becoming calm and peaceful for the first time in the last twelve hours. "You have no idea how much."

Hermione smiled bashfully, connecting their lips once again. A few seconds later, she pulled back and said, "Your grandfather told me what happened, but I had to wait for term to end before setting off. Umbridge was already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's and he'd given you all permission to visit."

"Do you think she believed that?" inquired Charlie, sounding hopeful; if she did, then maybe his father would remain unaware after all...

"I suppose so," shrugged Hermione, unconvinced. Lifting her hands to caress the sides of Charlie's face, she whispered, "but enough of the now, how're you feeling?"

"Fine," dismissed Charlie stiffly, shifting his gaze to avoid eye contact.

"Oh, don't lie to me," said Hermione impatiently, narrowing her eyes. "I've heard you've been hiding up here by yourself all afternoon."

Charlie shrugged, tensing in defence, "Needed to be alone, is all."

"And yet, you instantly opened the door for me," Hermione teased, raising a challenging brow. "Wonder what that means."

"It means that you're the kind of person I want to be with when I want to be alone," joked Charlie, rubbing his nose against hers adorably; trying to avoid suspicion of the real reason for his isolation.

(A/N: if you've read Eleanor & Park... bravo)

Hermione smirked, resting her forehead against his, "You're such a prat, you know that, don't you?"

"I reckon that's part of my charm," teased Charlie, tightening his grip around her waist. "Besides, as I recall, you don't seem to mind."

"Oh, I don't, but that's because you're my prat," giggled Hermione as she pecked his cheek, causing Charlie to smile proudly. Before he could respond, she connected their hands, pulling him towards the door, "Come on, baby. Mrs. Weasley needs help decorating, and I'll be damned if I let you waste another moment up here being a lousy, miserable Grinch."

"A Grinch?" Charlie repeated; an amused, yet confused smile curling on his lips. "What's that?"

"You poor and unfortunate soul," laughed Hermione, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "It's a Muggle thing... one day, remind me to show you the movie."

Charlie chuckled as he followed behind her, "Okay, will do."

Pausing for a moment in the doorway, Hermione turned, leaning up to whisper in his ear, "You know what isn't a holiday thing that's specific to Muggles though?" She smiled against his ear, building anticipation, "Mistletoe... and if you're lucky, maybe I'll get ahold of some."

Widening his eyes, Charlie's heart swelled with happiness as Hermione pulled him down the stairs, giggling slightly at his reaction.

(A/N: Charlie is one lucky son of a bitch... I am jealous)

Suddenly, Charlie felt so overjoyed that he considered joining in as they heard Sirius prancing around downstairs, singing God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs at the top of his lungs. Undeniably speaking, Sirius's delight at having the house full again, was infectious.

After spending several minutes convincing Harry that he wasn't the weapon that the Order would use against the Dark Lord nor was he possessed, everyone worked in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating, so that by the time they all went to bed on Christmas Eve the house was barely recognizable to Mr. Weasley who would return home within the night.

The tarnished chandeliers were no longer hung with cobwebs but with garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow glittered in heaps over the threadbare carpets; a great Christmas tree, obtained by Sirius and decorated with live fairies, blocked his family tree from view, and even the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards.

Charlie awoke Christmas morning to find a stack of presents at the foot of his bed, and Ron and Harry already halfway through opening their own piles.

"Happy Christmas," Charlie smiled, feeling happier than he had been in ages.

"Happy Christmas," beamed Harry and Ron simultaneously.

Charlie sorted through his own presents, but found nothing with Hermione's name on it. He figured, although uncertain, that they'd shared their presents with one another when the time came for them to have a moment alone.

His presents were incredibly random; Sirius and Lupin had given him books on the Dark Arts, Ron and Harry gave him candy, Hagrid sent him a furry brown wallet with fangs (which was supposed to be an anti-theft device), Tonks has given him a bag of goodies from Zonko's, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave the usual hand-knitted jumper and some mince pies, and Dobby had sent a painting of himself and the core four that Charlie suspected had been drawn by the elf himself. He had just turned it upside-down to see whether it looked better that way when, with a loud crack, Fred and George Apparated at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," sighed George. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."

Ron furrowed his brows, "Why not?"

"Mum's crying again," said Fred heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper."

"Without a note," added George, looking uncharacteristically angry. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything."

"We tried to comfort her," shrugged Fred, moving around the bed to look at Charlie's portrait. "Told her Percy's nothing more than a humungous pile of rat droppings."

"Didn't work," sniggered George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. "So Sirius took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon."

"What's that supposed to be, anyway?" asked Fred, squinting at Dobbys painting. "Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes."

"It's supposed to be Char," laughed George, pointing at the back of the picture, "says so on the back!"

"Good likeness," said Fred, grinning. Charlie threw his new wallet at him; missing the ginger completely, it hit the wall and fell to the floor, and the twins laughed loudly. "And you call yourself a Chaser..."

They got up and dressed; Charlie slipped on his new blue jumper knitted by Mrs. Weasley. When they went downstairs, the boys could hear the various inhabitants of the house calling 'Merry Christmas' to one another. Stumbling into the kitchen, they met Ginny, Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the table.

Charlie sat into a chair next to Hermione and quickly interlocked their hands under the table, squeezing gently before saying, "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," Hermione smiled before she glanced around, being mindful of being overheard, and lowered her voice in a whisper, "Find me later, will you? I want to give you your present."

Nodding with a bashful smile, Charlie turned back to the rest of the table, completely disregarding Ron's curious look in his direction, and instead, looked towards Arthur with a relieved expression.

"It's good to have you back, Mr. Weasley," he said, and he meant it wholeheartedly.

"It's good to be back my dear boy!" Arthur said cheerfully, clearly disregarding the various bandages wrapped around his head and arms. He turned to address the table, "Everyone having a good morning? What did you all get for Christmas?"

The kids spent the rest of the morning acting as normal as expected, divulging in Christmas puddings, playing board games, and watching movies (like the Grinch) to pass the time.The sun seemed to rotate through the sky at a rapid pace, the day fading into night, just as Mrs. Weasley, with the help of Sirius, began to put the Christmas feast on the table. Mad-Eye Moody came clunking in on his wooden leg, followed by a cheerful Tonks and Lupin. Mundungus Fletcher turned up in time for Christmas pudding and trifle, and near the end of the delicious meal, Arthur raised his glass:

"Come on, then, everybody," he called, smiling widely. "A Christmas toast to Harry Potter, without whom I would not be here... I am forever grateful."

"To Harry," everyone said simultaneously, raising their glasses; Sirius looking incredibly proud at Harry, who blushed from the attention.

And with that, the Christmas festivities came to their conclusion. Charlie helped Mrs. Weasley clear the table, putting plates into the sink, before he headed upstairs to feed Buckbeak one last time. When he entered the room, however, his mouth fell agape at the Christmas decorations hanging up, which were quite obviously put there by Sirius.

There was a small Christmas tree sparkling in the corner, tinsel and holly were draped across the windows, but Charlie's favourite part, without a doubt, was the added accessory of reindeer antlers atop of the hippogriff's head. Lost in amused thoughts, Charlie seemed to have no recollection of the door opening behind him, instead, he jumped slightly at the sound of a familiar voice coming from behind him.

"There you are."

Turning around quickly, his startled heartbeat began to calm as he took in the sight of his girlfriend, smiling up at him while wearing a Christmas jumper that was too big for her body; she also appeared to be holding something behind her back.

"Look what I found," Hermione smirked, retracting her left hand from her back to brandish a piece of mistletoe over their heads.

Charlie smiled widely, beckoning her closer by holding out his arms, "Come here then."

Squealing bashfully, Hermione ran forward, crashing into her boyfriend's torso just so she could step up on her tiptoes and place a passionate kiss on his lips. Charlie's arms immediately wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to deepen the interaction. Losing herself slightly within the snog, Hermione dropped her left hand, that was holding the mistletoe over their heads, and let it fall behind his neck, forgetting its importance within a second of their mouths moulding together.

They kissed for a few minutes, making up for the lost time they had spent apart, before pulling away and resting their foreheads against one another, grinning from ear to ear as they panted heavily.

"Just what I needed," muttered Hermione, kissing his lips once more before retracting her right hand from her back and placing a present in his hands. "Now, open this... I've been waiting to see your reaction."

Holding the present in his hand, Charlie's mouth curled into a proper smile. It was a small box, just large enough for jewelry, wrapped in a small red bow, but regardless, the boy felt a feeling of excitement swell up inside him as he pondered what could be in it. Before he could open it, however, he still needed to retrieve Hermione's gift from his room.

"Hold on," he said politely, heading for the door, "wait here for a second, okay?"

Hermione nodded, and Charlie swept out of the room, only to return moments later with a old-looking book that appeared worn, but historical all at the same time.

"I didn't have the time to wrap it properly," said Charlie, slightly embarrassed as he handed the book over. "And if I'm honest, my wrapping skills are quite atrocious anyways..."

"It's perfect," giggled Hermione, pecking his cheek before linking their hands to urge him to open his gift. "You first."

Nodding, Charlie took the red bow off slowly, unwrapping it as Hermione watched him with excited eyes. In the next instance, he opened the box and was presented with a silver chain accented with a compass-like pendant that was engraved with the saying, always with you, around the outside edge. The back of the compass was plain, except for a small button visible in the centre.

Charlie's mouth fell agape, and suddenly, he was speechless. Noticing this, Hermione smiled proudly at herself as she watched her boyfriend take the necklace out of the box, running his thumb over the pendant with a smile.

"It's amazing," Charlie breathed out, looking up into Hermione's eyes for a second, "thank you, baby."

"That's not all," said Hermione, a knowing smirk on her face as she took the necklace from him to help him put it on. "It's enchanted, you see... I've designed it so that whenever you need me, all you'll have to do is press the button on the back, and my bracelet," She paused to gesture towards a similar silver bracelet dangling from her wrist that Charlie had failed to notice until now, "will receive a small vibration and emit a guiding light that will always lead me to you."

If he wasn't at a lost for words before, Charlie certainly was now. In fact, he couldn't even form a proper sentence, which was just more proof of his shocked state.

"This is... I, uh... my god..."

"I figured that this was a little more permanent than a verbal promise," Hermione giggled softly, her breath tickling his skin. "Now, I'll never have to deal with almost losing you ever again... now, I'll always be with you."

Still aghast, Charlie took the pendent in his hand, pressing the button on the back with his thumb, and in a record time, there was a slight buzzing noise coming from Hermione's wrist. She raised her arm, and smiled when one of the hands on the compass lit up, pointing in Charlie's direction.

"Just wanted to make sure it worked," Charlie joked slightly, and in the next moment, he pulled Hermione close, placing a kiss on her lips to express his gratitude. Pulling back, he whispered against her lips, "I love it... thank you."

Smiling widely, Hermione trailed her hand down to caress his face in the most loving and endearing way possible before her eyes settled upon the book in her other hand.

"Go on," Charlie encouraged, waiting in anticipation, "your turn."

With a content sigh, Hermione turned the book over, revealing the title. Instantly, she let out a little excited laugh. The words written across the top of book said, Hogwarts: A History, First Edition, and Hermione's eyes lit up like a giddy little kid.

"My grandfather helped me restore it," explained Charlie, smiling proudly at her reaction. "However, this book is not like any other. I've also charmed it," He opened the pages of the book to let her examine it closely, "now, it'll update with notable events whenever it feels something to be worthy of being written among it's pages."

Hermione's mouth fell agape as she skimmed through the pages, reading quietly; every so often, she'd jump excitedly on the spot. Watching her for a moment, Charlie pulled her from her intense gaze on the book when he spoke once again.

"That's not all, however," he whispered, and Hermione's eyes burned with curiosity. Flipping towards the back of the book, and waving a hand over the pages, Charlie said, "Revelio."

Suddenly, the pages began to fade, revealing a carved out section of the book, where Charlie had hidden a sterling silver ring with a white crystal-like centre. Hermione stared in disbelief, her breath getting caught in her throat as she looked up at Charlie with wide eyes, reading too much into what was happening.

"Charlie... I, uh, we're too young... not that I wouldn't say yes... but it's too soon -"

"Oh, no, no, no," interjected Charlie quickly, his eyes widening as well from the misunderstanding. "It's not an engagement ring! Not yet, anyway... it's actually a miniature pensieve. I managed to capture a bit of the silvery essence in the crystal, and I've filled the ring with my memories... well, more specifically, memories of us."

The panic on Hermione's face quickly faded into intrigue as she watched Charlie take the ring out of the book, hold it in his hand, and say, "Exto."

(A/N: Exto is Latin for "project, appear" and is a made up spell by myself <3)

Almost immediately, the ring shot out a white light towards the ceiling, projecting the memories stored within in it like a movie. Hermione's mouth fell agape as she looked up in awe; she was watching their first kiss from Charlie's perspective and yet, the same fluttery feelings swirled in her stomach. She turned back towards Charlie, her eyes filling with happy tears as she saw him looking up with the happiest expression that she had ever seen.

(A/N: similar concept for reference purposes, ignore the additional crown piece lol)

"I wanted to show you how beautiful you are in my eyes," he said softly, shifting his gaze back towards his girlfriend. Stepping forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks, Charlie took her left hand and slipped the ring on her middle finger, "Hopefully now you'll never forget how special you are to me."

"I love you," said Hermione at once before moving her hand around to the nape of neck, pulling him towards her to connect their lips in one of the most romantic kisses they had ever shared. Pulling back, she whispered against his lips, "So much, baby."

Trying to fight the wide smile that curled onto his lips, Charlie leaned down once again, kissing her over and over again until the only thing that would separate them was their lack of breath.

"Happy Christmas," he said, half an hour later when he escorted Hermione back to her shared room with Ginny.

"Happy Christmas," Hermione repeated, smiling at him with the look of utmost admiration. "Goodnight, Charlie."

"Night."

And when the bedroom door closed, both Hermione and Charlie grinned widely on opposite sides of the door, clutching their new pieces of jewelry as if they had become a prized possession.

Both blissfully unaware of what was to come...

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

This chapter was SUPER long, but I hope you enjoyed <3

Thank you for baring with me while I took SO long to get this update out, hopefully it was worth the wait!

Also, I have so much gratitude for everyone who has supported this story! There will never be enough words in the English language to express how thankful I am - much love to you all!

That's all for now, but you know what to do: comment, vote and share - I'd greatly appreciate it! Until next time!

xo, Selena

p.s. edited this fanart for all of you guys who love Charlie and Harry's friendship as much as Charlie and Hermione's relationship ahahaha

(hair turned out a little dark, but I'll share it anyway lol)

Hope you like it <3