“COME on, Perce,” Charlie pressed. “It’s been six years since you left. It’s time to come home. You owe it to Mum.”
“No.” Percy continued flipping through the leaves of parchment in front of him.
“You arrogant berk! The woman gave life to you and you refuse to come to a family dinner?” he seethed at his younger brother.
“Give Hermione my regards. You can leave now.” Percy stood, strutted across his office, and opened his office door, ushering Charlie out in no uncertain terms.
“All right, Perce?” A burly, brown-haired young man popped his head around the door frame.
“Just fine, Wood, but a little busy,” he replied coldly, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Charlie strode angrily out the door without saying goodbye. Oliver trotted to catch up to his friend. “I don’t understand how he can have so much willpower to withstand your mum’s cooking. Was he stripped of taste buds when he started working at the Ministry?”
“No, I think they removed his stomach so that he could devote all of his time to his work. Obviously eating would be a significant distraction,” Charlie mused sarcastically.
When Charlie joined Puddlemere United two years before, he and Oliver had become fast friends. They’d played together on the house team back at Hogwarts. Back then Charlie had been captain for Gryffindor, but now it was Oliver who was the captain. Charlie had been in a bit of shock when he was first introduced to the intensity with which Wood captained the team. He had no idea that the young Keeper he’d known at school was going to transform into such an enthusiastic, passionate, and obsessive player.
Before leaving the Ministry of Magic Offices, they dropped by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to remind Kingsley and Tonks that they were invited (and from Charlie’s point of view virtually expected) for dinner at the Burrow that night. Once Charlie and Oliver reached the Apparition point, they departed for the Burrow. They entered through the kitchen door, immediately accosted by the wonderful smells of deliciously edible comfort.
“Hello, boys,” Mrs. Weasley smiled.
“Hello, Mum.” Charlie kissed his mother’s cheek.
“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” Oliver beamed.
“Oh, Oliver, I’m so glad you could make it for dinner tonight!” she exclaimed.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. He’s like a stray, Mum, once you feed him, there’s no getting rid of him,” Charlie winked at his mother.
“Oh, really?” Oliver asked, raising a brow.
“Yeah, really,” Charlie replied.
“I guess you’re right,” Oliver confirmed, and the three laughed.
“Well, you two boys run and get washed up,” she instructed, as if they were still young teenagers, “it’s a special night for Hermione, and I expect you two to look presentable.”
It was a testament to just how close Charlie and Oliver had become that Oliver had quite an array of his own personal belongings at the Burrow. The two changed into some clean clothes, not too fancy, but nice enough for the birthday dinner. Bill and Fleur had already been married when Charlie came back from Romania two years before, and it had been hard to adjust to being at home and not having Bill at his side at all times. Oliver actually turned out to be the sort of brother Percy should have been, but Charlie never admitted that even to himself.
“What are you doing?” Oliver asked.
“Getting ready,” Charlie answered.
“You never take this much time to get ready for anything.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s the third time you’ve combed your hair,” Oliver laughed as Charlie’s cheeks turned a shade of red to match his hair.
“Fine. You won’t leave me alone unless I tell you, will you?”
“You’re catching on nicely.”
Charlie took a deep breath and slowly turned around to look at his friend. He didn’t meet his eyes though.
“Merlin, it’s Hermione, isn’t it?” Oliver exclaimed.
Charlie dropped his head a bit sheepishly.
Oliver jumped off the bed, “You fancy her!”
“Keep your voice down,” Charlie hissed. “You’re acting like we’re fifteen!”
When Oliver finally stopped laughing, he sat back down on the bed, and Charlie took a seat in the squishy armchair he’d conjured as part of the furnishings a couple of years before. “You’re the one acting like a teenage boy with a crush,” Oliver pointed out.
Charlie took another deep breath before telling Oliver about the night he’d returned to the Burrow, though he conveniently finished the tale before he got to the part where he’d kissed Hermione. Oliver had a huge grin plastered from ear to ear. “For the love of Dragons, Oliver, I don’t even know if I like her!” That grin was very unnerving.
“Let me get this straight, though, you haven’t seen her even once since then?”
“No.”
“Why the bloody hell not?”
Charlie shrugged. “She’s been busy, I’ve been busy. Mostly busy with work. I’m gone for Quidditch loads of the time, and she works in the Department of Mysteries in a special investigative research position, so she’s always going off to study different things around the world.”
“You sure know a lot about her for not keeping in touch,” Oliver noted.
“Just because I haven’t seen her doesn’t mean the rest of the family hasn’t.”
“Right then, I can understand that.” Neither said anything for a moment, and then Oliver grinned again. “So, you going to give her a nice birthday kiss?”
Charlie tackled him, and the two battled it out for a few minutes. They straightened up, and then Oliver said, “You’d best comb your hair again!” before rushing out of the room and down the stairs before Charlie could hit him again.