Charles Weasley didn’t like to be nervous. Yet at the moment that was exactly what he was. Pacing to and fro on the pebbled courtyard in front of the large house while waiting for the carriage to show up on the road leading there, he was nervous. He knew it was a bit early to keep a look out for them. The sun was still hugging the tree tops and bathing everything in the type of light that made the white façade of the house look pink and the dew was still clinging to the grass and the tall rosebushes that flanked the stairs leading up to the big porch. Still, Charlie couldn’t help himself. There was too much at stake, too much to lose, too many things that hadn’t been the same these last few days. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, it was just something that had suddenly changed between them, and he didn’t like it one bit.
Things had been progressing perfectly with Miss Granger “ or Hermione as he from time to time allowed himself to think of her, if not always out of fear of addressing her in too bold a fashion if he let his guard down completely. At least, he had thought things between them were going tremendously well. With every day he had spent together with her, he had felt them grow closer. With every time they had talked he had grown more convinced of his decision. At the ball, he had made up his mind “ he would tell her the truth about what he did. He had been confident in her reaction, and he had known that if she only accepted what he did, he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to ask her to be his. And then everything had changed.
He couldn’t understand it. To him, everything had been wonderful. The way they talked, the way it felt to have her in his arms, even if just for a dance, the way she’d been jealous of Miss Brown. Charlie smiled at the memory. She had looked so embarrassed at her own words, so insecure where she had no reason to be. That, if anything, had convinced him that his feelings were returned. So what could possibly have happened from then to when he had seen her the next day “ pale and with rings under her eyes from sleeping too little?
He had been so worried when he heard she wasn’t feeling well, and had nearly forced Ginny to go and see if she was alright. He probably would have, if Fleur hadn’t stopped him. It hadn’t been the ending he had planned for the evening at all. Finally staying in the house for the night, he had hoped to get enough alone time with her to finally tell her the truth, and given her reaction, to ask for her hand in marriage.
Charlie sighed and bent down to pick a pebble off the ground, turning the small white stone over in his hand a few times before he threw it as far as he could. Frustration and doubt had been his companions for days now. Things had been perfect “ but they weren’t perfect any longer. Hermione had been distant and proper, much as she had been on his first visit to her home. She smiled and made polite conversation, but the smiles never reached her eyes, and he had several times caught her staring out into thin air as if deeply emerged in thought. A wall “ it was as if someone had erected a wall between them and he couldn’t break through it no matter what he did. Maybe if he told her the truth, but then he couldn’t, not while the wall was still there, not while he was still in doubt. He had to wait and hope for some sign that this was just in his mind and not in her heart.
Deeply in thought, Charlie hadn’t noticed how high the sun had risen on the sky, and so he was surprised when he saw the silhouette of the carriage show up against the trees at the end of the road. It moved fast, he noticed while wondering if fast was too fast or too slow. It’s a good thing that she wants to come here, that she wants to see how you live, he tried to tell himself, taking deep breaths as the carriage finally turned into the courtyard.
With a smile Charlie pushed his doubts to the back of his mind. She was here; she’d chosen to spend the day at his home rather than socialising in the city “ that had to mean something. A few quick strides and he was by the carriage door, opening it and holding out his hand to help them out.
Ginny was first out of the carriage, all smiles and excitement as was usual when she came to see him. Always glad to have her around, Charlie smiled at her and embraced her before he turned to help Hermione get out of the carriage. A spark shot through him as he she took his extended hand, and for just a moment “ when their eyes first met “ Charlie was sure she felt it too. Then she averted her eyes and pulled her hand away and the spark was gone as fast as it had appeared.
Kingsley’s voice snapped Charlie out of his thoughts even if he didn’t hear what the tall black man said.
“I’m sorry Kingsley, what did you say?” he asked with a smile.
“I was wondering if I should send someone to care for the luggage, Mr Charlie,” Kingsley repeated. A bit surprised that there was any luggage to speak of, Charlie looked at the trunk on the carriage and nodded.
“That would probably be for the best,” he said with a smile before turning to Ginny and Hermione. Surely luggage must be a good thing, right?
“Planning on changing your clothes often while here, sister dear?” Charlie asked teasingly while offering the two women an arm each, guiding them towards the porch where Hetta had arranged for them to have a late breakfast.
Ginny giggled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Clothes takes space,” she informed him. “And there are two of us,” she added.
“And what clothes could the two of you possibly bring for a one-day-visit?” Charlie pushed on.
“Dinner dresses for example,” Ginny said. “I assume you don’t want us to eat in our dusty travel dresses,” she added with a laugh.
“Of course not, that would be absolutely horrifying,” Charlie grinned, rolling his eyes and smiling, glad she was there.
He laughed when Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, and right then and there the situation didn’t feel as bad as they had. Maybe he had been imagining things, after all?
“We have our riding habits with us as well,” Ginny informed him as they ascended the stairs to the porch, letting go of his arm and walking straight up to the table. “Oh, Hetta made pound cake! I love her baking!” she exclaimed happily. “Hermione, you just have to try this!”
“You have riding habits with you?” Charlie asked, holding out the chair for Hermione to sit in.
“Of course, Charlie! We want to see the plantation, I’ve been telling Hermione how beautiful it is,” Ginny said eagerly, while taking a big bite of the cake.
“I didn’t know you could ride, Miss Granger,” Charlie said, trying to push away the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.
“I learned on my Grandfather’s farm,” Hermione answered in the pleasant yet distant tone of voice she’d adapted over the last few days. “And I do wish to see your plantation, Mr Weasley,” she said looking up at him. “I’m particularly interested in seeing your cotton fields,” she added, making Charlie nearly choke on his tea.
Collecting himself quickly, Charlie smiled at her. “That’s a little unusual, Miss Granger. Most people would want to see the park or the beautiful view over the sea that you have from here. The cotton fields are just fields, not very pretty or exiting at all,” he said, wondering what on earth he would do if she insisted. If she saw his fields she would see the workers. Even if he didn’t admit it she’d know they were slaves, and given her views and the fact that he still hadn’t told her the truth about his business that could never be a good thing.
“The fields are where you make your living, am I right?” Hermione asked casually.
“Well yes, it is, bu“”
“Then that’s what I want to see,” she interrupted him briskly. “Besides, I’ve seen plenty of parks in my life, and the sea exists in Boston and Charleston as well. I’ve never seen a cotton field before. There isn’t a problem, is there?” she asked and there was something in her voice that made Charlie wonder if that was the entire truth.
“Of course not. I’ll tell Kingsley to get horses out for us later,” Charlie said, wishing he knew a safe way out of this. Distantly, he listened to Ginny and Hermione talk to each other while he tried to figure something out.
Shortly after lunch, Charlie had run out of ideas. He’d shown them the house, the garden, the art Fleur insisted on filling his house with “ so far not even the library had attracted Hermione’s attention long enough to distract her from going out to see the fields. Once Hetta had cleared their table after lunch, Charlie couldn’t postpone their outing any longer, and Ginny and Hermione went upstairs to change into their riding habits.
By the time he had arranged for the horses to be saddled and was waiting for Ginny and Hermione to change and return downstairs, Charlie was a nervous wreck. What ever the wall Hermione had erected between them was, it was clearly something that was truly bothering her. He had hoped that a day spent here, without the distractions of others, would bring back the feeling of closeness that they’d had at the ball when he had held her hand, or in Boston when they walked aimlessly up and down the streets just to be alone. She hadn’t made any attempts to speak to him alone today. Not one. The times Ginny had tried to pull away and give them their privacy, Hermione had made sure she didn’t leave. If he didn’t get to be alone with her before they reached the fields today…no he would rather not think about that.
His attention shifted when he heard the girls’ voices as they walked outside. It was funny, how women looked when walking in their riding habits. Truth be told, the skirts were far too long to walk in, a fact Charlie assumed was attributed to the wish women had to always cover their legs, even when actually on a horse. Yet as silly as they looked walking in them, Charlie couldn’t deny that both Ginny and Hermione looked splendid in their habits. Ginny’s he’d seen before, it was the same one she’d worn last time she’d visited him, but even so, the dark blue colour suited her well and the fit was immaculate. It was Hermione’s, however, that attracted Charlie’s attention the most, as it was almost the exact same shade of rich green as he so often wore himself*. Not only so, but dark green velvet trimmings and buttons created a magnificent contrast to the green wool of the rest of the dress, and the tall riding hat, decorated with ribbons of the same green velvet as her dress, only served to add to the impression.
Smiling at them, Charlie showed them both their horses and helped them up in their side-saddles before he mounted his own mare. The early afternoon was perfect for riding. The weather was warm, but the hour and the breeze from the sea today prevented it from being too hot. As they started out in a slow pace things would have been perfect “ if only Miss Granger hadn’t insisted on the fields as their destination.
Deep in thought, Charlie didn’t prove the most talkative companion today, and for some reason neither did Hermione, so Ginny was alone the one to try and carry a conversation. She, too, soon stopped chatting, however, as no one answered her with more than a grunted yes or no. They rode on in silence, each one in their own thoughts.
For Charlie’s part, the one worry that occupied his mind was how he was going to stop the catastrophe that was now coming closer with every step of the horse. Even with the slow pace they were keeping, the distance wasn’t that great and they would reach the fields far before the workers had wrapped things up and left them empty for the day. On a day like today, they would probably work longer than usual as well. This time of year was busy, and the conditions for working good “ no, there was no hope of the fields being empty.
With another glance at Hermione on her horse, Charlie made up his mind. She could say what she wanted, but he was not about to sit idly by and watch a real chance of happiness slip from his grip. Take it or leave it, he would tell her the truth before they reached the fields, and if it was necessary to fool her slightly to get to the position to tell her, then so be it.
He turned away from the path by the next turn, steering them all out into the park instead of towards the fields. If he was going to tell her, he couldn’t do it sitting on a horseback. He needed a place where he could talk to her in peace, tell her like it was and see her reaction to the news. The way he saw it, he would either have a new fiancée or two less guests soon. Either way, he would know “ and that must be better than this constant worrying, mustn’t it?
“I thought we were going to see your fields, Mr Weasley?” Hermione asked, a harshness to her voice that he couldn’t remember being there since he first met her in Boston. “This seems to be the way to the ocean,” she added, gesturing in front of her where, indeed, the ocean was becoming visible.
“We will visit the fields, Miss Granger,” Charlie promised her. “But there is a place I want to show you first. One of my favourite places on the plantation actually. It’s a beautiful little hill with the most splendid view. Almost surrounded by trees, and with a small river flanking it on the one side and the ocean on the other “ it really can’t be explained properly, you just have to see it,” Charlie said hoping that his plan would work.
“I’m sure it is lovely, Mr Weasley, but it is afternoon already, will we have time for both?” Hermione pushed on, stubborn enough to nearly make Charlie scream with frustration.
“We will, I promise we will,” he answered with a forced smile. “It’s just…this is where I come when I need to think, when I need to get away from everyone. It’s small and private, and nearly no one but me knows about it. It’s special, and I was hoping you’d want to see it,” he added.
She didn’t answer at first, but the expression on her face softened considerably and Charlie was sure she blushed slightly, even if he couldn’t understand why she would blush at the moment. “Oh, I see,” she replied softly, and Charlie didn’t care why she was blushing anymore. In an instant she had turned more into the Hermione he knew and was starting to fall in love with again, and he wasn’t about to complain.
He halted their horses next to the river below the hill. It was a good place for them to rest as there was both grass to graze and water to drink and the trees offered ample shade so they didn’t get too hot. Ginny seemed pleased as she smiled at him, and Hermione, too, seemed to appreciate the beauty of the place.
Slightly nervous, Charlie helped Hermione down from her horse “ desperately trying not to think about the way it felt to hold her in his arms, or about the tingles that ran through him was her body pressed against his, if just ever so lightly before he let her go. With a deep breath, he forced himself to ignore the sudden urge he had to kiss her, the same urge he’d had at the ball or when he’d said goodbye to her in Boston. This, however, he knew was hardly the time or the place. Maybe after he had told her the truth, depending on her reaction, or maybe later “ either way, now was not an option.
Ginny stayed with the horses when Charlie gently guided Hermione up the small hill, always one to understand even his slightest hints and wishes. She was like that with all of six of them, always knowing what they wanted and needed, often before they knew themselves. In some ways, Charlie sometimes felt guilty about caring more for his sister than many of his brothers, but then sometimes he thought all of them did. Ron because she was the closest in age, the one he’d grown up next to for so many years. Fred and George because she, while a girl, could still play pranks as well as either of them “ a fact that had brought their mother to tears more times than not, as she worried that her little girl wouldn’t grow up to become a lady.
She’d managed to become a lady just fine, Charlie thought, and he guessed that was Percy’s favourite thing about her. Not that he could be sure, he’d never understood Percy very well. He knew that Bill liked the feminine side of their sister though, the part that let him spoil her rotten and let his wife dote on her with dresses and ribbons and dances. Charlie, however, liked her way of silently watching them, seeing them and acknowledging their wishes without ever saying a word. He liked that she now stayed with the horses, not because she didn’t want to see the hill and its view, but because she somehow knew that Charlie needed to speak to Hermione on his own.
The view was as breathtaking as always when they reached the top of the hill, and Hermione gasped when she saw it. The clearing wasn’t big, but it was enough, and the sound of the waves crashing in against the shore beneath them added to the calm and serenity to the place. If ever there were a place more suited for telling someone, possibly the most important thing you ever would tell anyone, then Charlie, at least, couldn’t imagine it.
“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said quietly, letting go of his arm and walking around to have a look from every angle.
“You understand why I wanted to show it to you?” Charlie asked, walking up to her, facing her as he took her hands in his.
With a smile, she nodded. “I do understand,” she answered, turning her eyes towards him.
Charlie smiled back, unable to help himself. There was no wall between them now. Whatever it was that had been separating them wasn’t there now, and he felt relief wash over him. A comfortable silence spread out between them and Charlie let go of Hermione’s hands as she turned back around to watch the sea again. She was beautiful like this, Charlie thought, standing here looking out over the ocean. He only wished he could have let her hair down; just let it fall across her shoulders in the curls he imagined it was.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Charlie finally said, knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer. Ginny would be waiting and they needed to keep riding, back or to the fields, whichever she wanted. He needed to talk to Hermione about this now, before it was too late. “It’s important and something I wanted to talk to you about for quite some time,” he added, walking up to her to once more take her hands in his.
She stiffened the moment he touched her. He could feel it in the way she started, see it in the way she squared her shoulders and pushed out her chin. For a moment he faltered and quieted, suddenly uncertain again.
“It’s getting late, Mr Weasley,” Hermione interrupted him sharply. “If we are to get to the fields before it gets too late we really should go,” she added, pulling her hands from his grip and turning to head back down the hill.
“There is plenty of time, I assure you,” Charlie said feeling both confused and annoyed. He had just told her he needed to talk to her, that this was important, and she was running away? Why? It made no sense. “Miss Granger“” he tried walking up to her, but she eluded his touch and lifted the hem of her skirt and started to walk.
“What ever it is Mr Weasley, I’m sure it will still be important after we’d seen your fields,” she said briskly. “I really do want to see how you make your living, Mr Weasley,” she added with a forced smile. “Besides, Ginny has been waiting for far too long, already.”
With frustration, Charlie watched her walk away, hurrying as if something had chased her down the hill. Why didn’t she want to talk to him? Why did she run away from him like this? He was quickly getting a headache and if he couldn’t stop what was happening…no, he couldn’t think like that. He needed to find a way “ he just didn’t know how.
At the bottom, Charlie gathered the horses and helped both Miss Granger and Ginny up into their saddles again. He worked as slowly as he could, hoping for some magical inspiration that would tell him how to fix this “ whatever this was.
Maybe it was because he was so deeply submerged in his own thoughts that he didn’t noticed, or maybe it was just because things happened too fast, but fact was he didn’t see the squirrel as it ran right in front of the hooves of Hermione’s horse, and hence he couldn’t stop the horse from jumping back and tossing her. It wasn’t that violent a jump, and an experienced rider would have had no problem staying on the horse. But Hermione wasn’t an experienced rider and with the side-saddle to make holding on even harder, she didn’t stand a chance. With a shriek, she fell down the slope and rolled into the river where she to Charlie’s alarm, didn’t move. Acting on instinct rather than thought, Charlie threw off his jacket and ran down to the river after her.
She was still not moving when he reached her, but she hadn’t fallen face first in the water and she was still breathing, a fact which Charlie felt overwhelmingly grateful for. With a firm grip on her unconscious body, Charlie heaved her back on land again, not even noticing his shirt ripping in the process. She was heavier than he would have expected, weighed down by numerous layers of clothing and heavy wool.
“Is she alright?” Ginny called out, running up to them when Charlie laid her gently on the ground.
“She’s still breathing,” Charlie answered breathlessly, as if saying it would guarantee that she would be alright. “And what is this darn dress made off?” he asked. “Not even wool would be this heavy!”
“Lead weights,” Ginny said, tears of worry streaming down her face as she felt Hermione’s forehead. “So that the skirt won’t fly up and“”
“Lead weights?” Charlie nearly shouted. “Who would be so foolish as to put lead weights in a dress? Do you know what would have happened if I had not been here?” he said, shuddering with fear of the thought as he started to unbutton Hermione’s jacket.
“I did not invent the fashion, Charlie!” Ginny snapped back at him. “It’s not like most of us wouldn’t rather…what do you think you’re doing?” she interrupted herself, staring at her brother.
“I’m keeping her from catching pneumonia by getting her out of the wet clothes!” Charlie answered “Seriously, it’s not like I’ve never seen a woman in her undergarments before, Ginny. I’d think you’d be more concerned with her health than her appearance!”
“I am “ I just don’t think“”
“If you’re that worried about propriety then take my jacket and cover her up with it,” Charlie snapped, pulling the long green skirt and her heavy petticoat off her and picking her up in his arms.
Ginny acted quickly, rising and getting his jacket to spread over Hermione even before Charlie had stood. He held Hermione tight as he rose, and knowing he would never get her on a horse with him without running the risk of hurting her more, he started to walk back to the house, crossing over the fields of grass that he normally rode around. When they finally could see the house, Hermione’s hair had become lose and was falling down in ringlets of unruly wet curls, looking much as Charlie had imagined they would. He couldn’t help but to feel guilty at noticing, just as he felt guilty at noticing the way her pale blue chemise had slipped up over her knee revealing a bit of the skin of her thigh.
His jacket had fallen off her somewhere on the hill climb and he wasn’t sure how long they had been walking. He rarely walked these distances, but always rode, and right now the only thing he could think about was how pale Hermione looked in his arm and how hot and fevered her body was beginning to feel against his chest. He didn’t notice the odd looks from the men on the yard as he carried her up the stairs and into the house, and he hardly saw Eve standing on the porch when he hurried past her, calling out for Hetta the moment he was inside the house.
Gently, Charlie put Hermione down on one of the sofas in the library, pulling a blanket over her to keep her warm when Hetta came into the room.
“She fell, Hetta,” he said stroking her hair. “Into the river,” he explained, stepping back as Hetta moved to sit by her side. Ginny and Eve had both entered the room and were now looking down on Hermione with the same worried glances as Charlie was. Hetta, however, to Charlie’s great relief, seemed to know exactly what needed to be done.
“Eve, get some hot water from the kitchen, also give the order to make some hot tea,” she said briskly. “Mr Charlie, you’ll need to carry her upstairs into one of the bedrooms, this arrangement won’t do, and once that is done you need to get yourself out of those wet clothes and send a note to the doctor in Charleston,” she continued.
Charlie nodded, and bent down to pick Hermione up again, cradling her in his arms while ascending the large staircase to the upper floor and one of the rarely used guestrooms. As he placed her on the large four poster bed, he couldn’t help but to wonder how someone so vibrant and lively could look so fragile. Brought out of his thoughts, by a hard shove from Hetta, Charlie moved away.
“Now go and get that doctor for her, Mr Charlie,” Hetta said firmly. “She’s already running a fever,” she added.
“Right, I’ll do that right away,” Charlie said, turning to leave the room.
“You’ll better send a note to your brother as well. It looks like Miss Granger will stay here for a few days,” she called out after him.
“Wouldn’t it be better if they sent a carriage“”
“Mr Charlie, I’ve tended to sick people more times than I care to remember, and I promise you that the doctor will not approve of such a suggestion. Miss Granger is staying here until she is feeling better, and if you fear that there will be gossip about that fact, I’d suggest you let your sister stay here as a chaperone!” Hetta said firmly, as always knowing his objections and worries.
With one last glance at Hermione, still laying in a faint on the bed, Charlie nodded and left, not bothering with his own wet clothes just yet but hurrying downstairs to write the notes to the doctor and Bill. He could worry about himself later, right now he needed to get the doctor here first, then he needed to send someone out to get the horses by the river “ once that was done, he could worry about the state of his clothes.
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*A picture of Hermione’s riding habit can be found here. Traditionally riding habits were made out of wool; they were dark in colour and worn with top hats much like the ones men wore.
* The scene where Charlie is carrying Hermione was inspired by this beautiful art here.