Hermione Apparated directly to the Weasley’s from work. She was glad to be through with the debriefing at the Department of Mysteries. Working there was like watching a train wreck. It was painful because of the memories she had from fifth year when she’d been there fighting Death Eaters with Harry, Ron and Ginny. However, her curious mind couldn’t resist the secrets stored there and the things still left to be figured out.
After a year of working in the depths of the offices at the Ministry headquarters, Hermione had been promoted to a field researcher. It gave her the opportunity to travel to many fascinating places, and her superiors had given her plenty of freedom in which whispers, leads and interests to pursue, so long as she remain productive. Lately she had been fascinated by the Great Barrier Reef. She’d spent the last nine weeks exclusively studying the magical creatures that inhabited the coral reef. After classifying the previously undiscovered creatures, the Department of Magical Creatures had called for the help of the Unspeakables.
Hermione’s direct supervisor, a dedicated woman named Muriel Stenthis, had insisted that the young Unspeakable take the opportunity to go make the grand report to London, especially since it was her birthday. It wasn’t so much that Hermione didn’t want to be at home with her family and friends as it was her penchant to get completely wrapped up in her research. She was grateful to have Muriel looking out for her sanity and social life.
When Molly (she refused to let Hermione call her anything else after their extensive history) learned that Hermione was coming back to the country, and on her birthday no less, she’d insisted Hermione come to dinner at the Burrow. Hermione’s father had been invited over as well.
“There you are, dear girl!” Molly pushed the kitchen window open and called out cheerily.
Hermione quickened her steps up the path to the house, a few garden gnomes scurrying past her ankles. Just as Hermione reached the back stair, a ginger puff of fur pounced at her feet, brushing up against her leg affectionately. “Hello, Crookshanks,” Hermione said, gently stroking her kneazle of a cat behind the ears. The bandy-legged creature only required a moment of attention before he was off to chase more gnomes.
Hermione opened the kitchen door and breathed in the heavy aroma of delicious food that welcomed her before Molly could reach her and pull into a sweet hug. “Oh, dear, dear girl, you need to come home more often! You’re far to bony! Do you take time for regular meals?”
She pulled back to look Hermione in the face. Hermione met her gaze with a sheepish smile.
Molly clucked her tongue, and Hermione laughed. “It’s not nearly as enticing as your cooking by a long shot,” she offered.
“You do know how to flatter a woman away from worry. Even so, if you don’t get the proper nutrition now, you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”
“Good thing you take care of-”
Hermione broke off, jumping as there were thunderous sounds coming from above their heads.
“Those boys!” Molly looked to the ceiling in annoyance.
“Are Fred and George up there?” Hermione asked. She was surprised, as the last she knew was that they still lived in the flat above their shop in Diagon Alley.
“Merlin, no. Charlie and Oliver,” Molly answered as she bustled back to the stove and the cutting board.
“Charlie and Oliver?” Hermione asked, surprised.
“Yes, Oliver Wood, dear. He was a few years ahead of you at Hogwarts. He plays on Puddlemere with Charlie.”
“Oh,” was the weak reply Hermione managed.
She hadn’t seen Charlie in ages.
Not since he’d kissed her.
The weeks and months following that morning, Hermione had hoped she’d see a lot more of the older Weasley boy, but she hadn’t. She’d eventually put the experience into the back of her mind, but she couldn’t suppress the small flutter in her heart now that she knew he was in the same house.
She turned when there was a thundering down the stairs, her heart racing now. Charlie would appear at the foot of the stairs at any second.
Oliver was the only one to blunder into the kitchen, though. “Hermione,” he greeted her with a silly grin that she wasn’t quite sure of.
“Oliver,” she answered back, almost in a question.
He gave her a hearty wink, and then turned to Molly. Hermione raised her brow in bewilderment, but Oliver didn’t see. “How long until dinner, Mrs. Weasley? The smell is torture!”
Molly laughed and slapped Oliver’s hand away from a large basket of steaming rolls on the counter. “Oliver, why don’t you set the table?” Molly gave a few flicks of her wand, and plates and silverware clanked out of their cupboards and drawers and onto the counter.
There was another thundering on the stairs, and Hermione didn’t even have time to turn around before the person collided with her. Two strong arms wrapped around her waist to keep her from falling over.
“Charlie!” Molly scolded. “You’re not a bumbling teenager! You could’ve knocked Hermione clean off her feet!”
“Sorry,” Charlie muttered, an impish smile on his face.
“You should be,” Oliver chimed in. “What if that had been me, taking food to the table? You would’ve spilt the meal all over the floor, and then what would we eat?”
Hermione cleared her throat quietly, and Charlie realized he still had his arms wrapped around the girl. The woman, he corrected himself. Those were not the curves of a girl, he thought, his ears turning slightly red as he released Hermione, who smoothed her blouse.
Molly turned back to the stove so that she could smile to herself. Charlie and Hermione? Perhaps. “Charlie, why don’t you help Oliver with the table?”
“Sure, Mum,” Charlie said, taking the large stack of plates in his arms and out to the garden, Oliver following behind with the silverware levitating in front of him.
“How many people are coming for dinner tonight? That was quite a lot of plates you sent Charlie out with.”
Molly chuckled. “Hermione, dear, you’ve been out of the country for quite a long time, and it’s your birthday.”
Hermione blushed and looked to the floor.
“Your father will be along; Remus and Tonks; the Shacklebolts; the rest of our family.” Molly paused before quietly adding, “Except for Percy.” She frowned for a moment, but then brightened again. “I think George is even bringing Andrea. Hermione, would you mind answering the door?” she asked at the sound of knocking.
It wasn’t too long before the house and garden were bustling with guests: family, and then those who were just as dear as family. Kingsley’s wife, Caroline, and Hermione’s father, Stephen, were the only Muggles. Remus and Tonks were busy trying to keep an eye on their children, Dillon, who was almost three, and the infant twin girls Daphne and Delaney. Dillon was running around like a loose firework, and there were plenty of hands willing to hold the precious little girls. Hermione had been a little apprehensive the first time her father had been invited to the Burrow, but Stephen Granger and Arthur Weasley enjoyed discovering each other’s worlds and got into deep discussions that would last most of the evening.
George and Andrea were in a corner of the garden, completely intent on each other. Fred, Oliver and Charlie were entertaining Dillon with small bubble charms. Bill and Fleur were the last to arrive, and everyone quickly gathered around the tables, pushed together and groaning under Mrs. Weasley’s fabulous cooking. Hermione ended up sitting across from Fleur, Bill, and Charlie, with Oliver on her left and Andrea on her right.
Hermione spent a lot of time during the meal catching up with Andrea. The two were in the same house and year back at Hogwarts. Andrea was now playing Quidditch professionally for England. She started as a Chaser playing in the North American League for the Sweetwater All-Stars in Texas, led her team to a cup victory there, and then was asked to come play for the Falmouth Falcons as their star Chaser. While Andrea and George had been going together at Hogwarts, they’d split before Andrea’s seventh year, and evidently had only gotten back together a few days before this dinner.
When Hermione started telling Andrea, and the others consequently, about life in Australia, it wasn’t long before she was interrupted by Fleur.
“Eet is no wonder,” she clucked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Your ‘air looks tres jolie, but your skin is far too dark. You weel ruin your complexion.”
A few of the people around Hermione tried not to laugh; Andrea rolled her eyes, and urged Hermione to continue. Earlier in the conversation, Fleur had thoroughly explained to Hermione the ages of pregnant beauty. Fleur was at the first of those ages, thus explaining why she and Bill were having a baby at this time.
Dinner cleared for dessert, and then everyone pushed back from the table. Some went to the kitchen to help Molly clean up, some went into the living room for a few games. Oliver, Charlie, Andrea, George, Fred and Hermione lingered in the garden. The evening smelled deliciously of those last threads of summer. Andrea laughed at something George whispered in her ear, and the two kissed.
“The two of you could give it a rest. You’re almost worse than Bill and Fleur when they were engaged,” Charlie pretended to glare at the young couple.
“Oh, no way, no one could be worse than Bill and Fleur the week before the wedding,” Fred argued, “and I’ve been around these two plenty.”
“That’s so odd how she only wants to be pregnant during the ages of pregnant beauty or whatever. Is it a French belief, or is it Veela tradition?”
“I’d guess Veela,” Hermione answered. “I’m sure I would’ve come across something about it in all of my French readings.”
“I’m more interested to know what Bill thinks about it,” Oliver chuckled.
“I asked him about it a few weeks ago, actually,” Fred chuckled. “He said he’d wanted kids from the moment they got married, but he didn’t pressure Fleur since she’s the one that has to actually go through the pregnancy.”
“Smart man,” Charlie nodded. “He’s got to deal with the mother of his child. Better that she be pleased with her situation.”
“You Weasley boys seem to talk about quite a bit of personal business,” Andrea remarked. “Is there anything I should be worried that you know about me?”
Charlie and Fred burst into a big fit of laughter at this, and George and Oliver looked as if they were both trying very hard not to laugh as well. Hermione smiled, not surprised in the least.
“Looks as if I need to take someone off for a bit of an inquisition,” Andrea concluded, and stood, pulling George along with her from the table and into the trees.
“I have a feeling George won’t mind her inquisition one bit,” Oliver laughed.
Sure enough, they didn’t see George and Andrea for at least another hour. When dusk finally came, people started to leave the Burrow. Remus, Tonks, and their adorable children were the first to go. Hermione’s father was the next to make his move to the door. Hermione went out with him. “You can stay longer. I just have to work early in the morning,” he told Hermione out on the porch.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Hermione asked.
“Of course not, it’s your birthday. I’ll see you tomorrow either way,” he smiled, then kissed her forehead.
“See you later, then.” Hermione hugged her father tightly, and then watched him cross the garden and get in his car. Then, she waved and watched him until the car was no longer visible through the trees. As she turned to go back inside, Oliver and Charlie came out.
“I’m off for the night as well,” Oliver announced. “We’ve got practice tomorrow morning, so don’t stay up too late, Weasley.”
“I will,” Charlie replied, winking at Hermione.
Oliver glared at him for a moment, but then let it go. “I know where you live, Weasley, and I’m not opposed to coming here and waking you up myself.” Then he turned to Hermione. “Happy birthday,” he said before kissing her on the cheek. “We’ll be seeing more of you around, yes?”
“Well,” Hermione was a bit flustered from the unexpected kiss, but strung her words together anyway, “I’ll be here in London until the end of October. The vacation is forced, and my supervisor has a lot of things she wants me to take care of while I’m here, as well.”
“Good. Then you’ll come to our exhibition game on Saturday.”
“Just say yes,” Charlie whispered behind her.
“Sounds lovely,” Hermione put on her best smile.
“Great! See you then.” And with that, Oliver turned on the spot and Disapparated.
Charlie laughed. “It’s best not to cross Oliver where Quidditch is concerned. I’m surprised we didn’t see sparks flying between Andrea and Oliver tonight, since Andrea will be playing against us.”
Hermione turned to face him. She tried to keep the smile on her face, but evidently there was no fooling Charlie.
“What’s the matter?”
“The last game I went to was at Hogwarts. It’ll be very...” she trailed off.
“I understand.”
Hermione gave a small laugh. “Looks like we’re in the same situation we were two years ago.”
Charlie laughed as well. “It was good to have someone to talk to. I’ve missed seeing you around. It seems like we’ve been missing each other here at the Burrow.”
“I always enjoyed getting your letters.”
“I didn’t write often enough.”
“No,” she admitted, “you didn’t.”
“Would you mind terribly if I kissed you again?”
Hermione’s jaw dropped slightly. How was she supposed to respond to that?
A high-pitched yell and then torrents of laughter erupted nearby in the trees, and Hermione and Charlie both whipped around to see what was going on. Three seconds later, Andrea came bolting out of the trees with George right on her heels. George was soaking wet, and he had a large bucket in his hands, water slushing out as he tried to catch his girlfriend.
Andrea darted between Charlie and Hermione and pushed quickly through the door. “Ha!” she exclaimed, closing the door most of the way and sticking only her head out. “I win!”
Charlie and Hermione laughed at George as he pouted, bucket hanging at his side. “What happened?” Charlie finally managed to choke out through his laughter.
“She shoved me into the pond,” George grumbled.
Hermione and Charlie bursst into laughter again. That is, they laughed until they were hit with a bucket of water.