Fic: Past Grievances (Hermione/Charlie, M)
Title: Past Grievances
Author: Subrosa143
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter. All original people, places, and things are mine.
Pairing: Charlie/Hermione
Rating: Mature
Summary: I never knew the meaning of guilt until Ron’s death when I felt the new emotion closing in on me on all sides. It drove me away from those who I loved. Most importantly of all, however, it drove me away from the insufferable man that constantly caused feelings of hate, annoyance, shame, and lust, to boil within me. Why doesn’t the past ever stay buried?
Warnings: AU, Character Death
Genre: Drama, Romance
AN: Here's chapter 2 of PG. I hope you enjoy :D Be sure to drop me a comment!
The strength that it would take for me to leave the comforting confines of my own home didn’t quite strike me until late afternoon of the day following my talk with Harry. Though nothing outstanding, Ron and I had worked hard to establish a house that felt safe for both us and our daughter during the world’s dark and difficult times. The idea of parting ways with the quaint cabin in the woods seemed to be unfeasible. After all, it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was secure. It had a lovely stone fireplace in the livingroom where Ron used to roast marshmallows with Tyler throughout the course of long winters, and there was a beautiful set of wicker furniture upon its back porch in the ideal position to watch Tyler play in the yard from. In my own little world, the cabin was absolutely perfect in every single way, shape and form.
“I don’t want to go live in Ramainda,” Tyler sulked from where she lay, spread out across my bed while I rummaged for clothing through my old, oak dresser. It was going to take a miracle to fit everything into a single case of luggage, which had been Charlie’s one request. Both Tyler and myself were to only bring one each. I was firm in my belief that he was merely saying so in the hope of ruffling my feathers. The pompous, arrogant…git. Now, I was going to have to shrink every article of clothing, making an hour long process into nearly double that amount.
“It’s pronounced, ‘Ro-main-ee-a,’ Sweetie,” I quickly corrected, pronouncing the syllables the way they were truly meant to be said, “And, you love Uncle Charlie. It’s not a liking which I can completely understand and agree with, but you do.” Turning around to look at Tyler, I smiled compassionately. The one personality tribute which Tyler seemed to have acquired from me was her sense of control and order. Therefore, she was packed and ready to go already; despite the lack of motivation she held towards the idea.
“But, you don’t like Uncle Charlie. You both hate each other. It’s going to be no fun, at all,” Tyler insisted, rolling onto her back to look dramatically up at the ceiling. “I want to stay home.”
Not able to help the wave of guilt which rushed through me, I bit my lip. My stubbornness would never be able to be placed aside long enough to call a complete truce with Charlie; but, perhaps we could pretend like everything was perfectly sunshine and rainbows between us. At least for Tyler’s sake, if any. She was the one, after all, who would be most affected if our fighting continued over the course of the next few months.
“‘Hate’ is an extremely harsh word, Tyler,” I found myself saying after a moment’s hesitation. “Uncle Charlie and I don’t hate each other. It’s impossible to hate family.”
“You told Daddy that you hated him,” she whispered, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. The comment struck me like a knife through the heart. It was true, nevertheless. Just a day before his death, Ron and I had argued worse than ever before. It had ended with me irrationally screaming that he was selfish and that I hated him for it. It had been completely ill-advised that Tyler had been in the next room over while the argument had raged.
Tears stung in the back corners of my eyes as I remembered the hurt on his face after those words were uttered. “People say horrible things when they are argry or upset,” I murmured, my voice cracking with retained emotion, “Things that they don’t necessarily mean.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Everyday, Sweetie.”
Tyler smiled miserably, her deep blue eyes brimming with tears, “Me too.”
It was the first time in months that we had even neared the subject of her father, never mind opened up about it. There was just too much to say to get it all out at once. It would take too much energy out of the both of us to do so. Consequently, we had come to an unspoken agreement that we would slowly, and steadily, release our feelings. I desperately wished that I could be the rock that Tyler needed to hold herself up about the loss, but I knew I couldn’t. That was why Harry had become such a common face in the house. Tyler constantly opened herself up to him, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to say certain things straight to me.
“I know,” I said, quickly sitting beside her on the bed and gently drawing her into my lap. She shook with quiet sobs as I soothingly ran my hand over the back of her head, wishing I could bask in the release of tears, also.
“It’s n-not fair,” she whimpered, so softly that I needed to strain myself just in order to hear, “W-We needed h-him. He sh-shouldn’t have left us. He k-knew we needed h-him.”
“I know,” I repeated, looking out of the window and into the surrounding woods of our property. Regardless of how much I tried to suppress it: the pain, the suffering…It never really seemed to come to an end. At least, not before it consumed everything, making me quake in its wake. Forcing me into a half-life. A life that felt like something far into the shadows between life and death. Never quite living, no matter how hard I attempted to. Never quite able to cry, no matter how much I tried to force it.
For the first time in my life, I was, to some extent, terrified to enter the Burrow. The house which had been my home away from home since my adolescence. The crooked sign marking the place for its name no longer seemed comical. Actually, I vaguely was reminded of the jagged signs in Muggle horror movies, warning the unknowing victims of the “Danger!” that was to come.
It was all quite silly, I reasoned with myself. My mind was getting ahead of me, making the situation far more dramatic than it truly needed to be. It was not that big of a deal, really. Tyler and I were about to simply take a…vacation -yes, that’s a good word for it- away from our normal, everyday routines. The fact that I would be living along side the Antichrist was merely an added bonus to test my wits and keep me sharp in case Harry came to find that I’m needed in this new fight.
“Mummy, are we going to go in now? It’s chilly!” said Tyler, who was now persistently tugging on the sleeve of my cherry colored jumper.
It was only then that I realized that it was, indeed, very chilly. Winter was coming around with a bang, that was for sure. I could feel the cold nipping at the skin of my cheeks, no doubt causing them to stain with redness. Tyler was, at this point, jumping up and down, pivoting quickly from foot to foot. Not able to withhold a chuckle, a swept her up into my arms as she continued to bounce within my grasp. “Alright, alright. Lets go,” I resigned, brushing her nose playfully with my own. Her eyes shined in response as her tiny, mitten-clad, hands came to a rest upon my shoulders. One fist balled gently in my hair.
“What about our bags?” she asked, only slightly interested in all actuality.
“We’ll let Uncle Harry get them since he is such a magnificent person full of compassion and care.”
“Are you being sar…sarcis…?”
“Sarcastic?” I supplied helpfully, brushing back her fringe in order to watch the brief band of concentration run across her face in an attempt to come up with the answer herself.
“That’s the one!” She grinned, dimples rising charmingly across her rosy cheeks.
“In that case, yes.”
Balancing Tyler in my arms with one hand, I reached out to push open the door of the Burrow. The warmth of the home hit me with the force of a wrecking ball, causing gooseflesh to ignite across the back of my neck. Tyler and I sighed simultaneously in satisfaction as the frigid air slowly seeped from the creases of our clothing and skin.
“There you two are!” Harry exclaimed exasperatedly, pushing the door open with more force than really required as he walked into the foyer from the kitchen, “Charlie has been waiting for an hour. The least you could have done was be on time, Hermione. It isn’t as if he enjoys this plan all too much, either.”
Unable to prevent the eye roll elicited from his declaration, I snorted to myself and set Tyler on her feet at my side. “Poor, poor Charlie. Whatever can we do to make it up to him for being such a nuisance? Shall I just leave? Perhaps -and I know this is a shocking idea- we should stay home and not be shipped off like some common postage stamp?” My tone was quite sarcastic, even for me. What was I supposed to say to him, though? The fact that Charlie was annoyed with the delay did nothing to receive any sympathy from me. In fact, I wish he had just left and hadn’t bothered to wait for us. The idea that he did wait was rapidly making my blood boil in annoyance. Maybe Harry would have pushed aside this ridiculous scheme and would have let Tyler and I stay where we wished to stay had Charlie neglected to finally fall at the feet of Harry‘s desires.
“Good day to you, too,” a deep, gruff voice murmured from the kitchen doorway. If the owner of the voice hadn’t sounded so bloody amused with the whole situation I probably would have just shrugged off the remark and continued to seethe on and on to Harry. Unfortunately, he seemed unable to resist a highly entertained smirk when I spun to look his way and I suddenly felt the palm of my right hand begin to tingle in a firm desire to wipe the expression permanently off his face.
“Is it really a good day?” I asked, my voice sounding far different than the eerily calm monotone that had become a comfort to seek shelter in over the last year. Up until recently, I doubted that I had raised my voice at all for longer than I could remember; though, it did not take a philosopher to figure out around what time in my life the need to drift into the background began. Charlie, it seemed, was determined to shatter my peace. Hell, he already had destroyed it by agreeing to this whole ordeal. In fact, I was damn sure that it was even before the agreement, our row at the Burrow, that had ruined everything. And I severely disliked him for it. “How dare you! You despicable bastard. Rushing us as if the world was solely rotating in order to satisfy your every need. You are not the king of the universe, Charlie. In fact, you are nothing. No one of importance. You stroll in here as if I have every reason to bow down and spit out apology after apology for being a tad latter than expect. Well, guess what? You can go screw yourself…”
Harry’s arms were suddenly around my waist, pulling me into a bone-crushing embrace that caught me off guard, yet proved to be much needed. The moment my head came to a rest against his chest and the soft, subtle pounding of his heartbeat filled my ears, I realized how wound up I had been making myself. It had become customary, each time I found myself in the arms of my best friend, that I match my breathing to his. Usually, the change needn’t be dreadfully challenging. On most occasions our hearts would be working as one solitary unit by the second breath of air. Today was different, though. My heart was beating erratically and my breaths were coming in short gasps. Had I been normal, this would have been the time where I threw my face into the warm strength emitted off of Harry and cried. I wasn’t the least bit normal, therefore I merely sat and attempted to slow my heartbeat while my eyes stung with unshed emotion for what seemed to be the millionth time that week.
I felt as if I were standing, in that same position within Harry’s arms, for hours on end. In reality, it took all of two minutes before I allowed myself a last solitary deep breath of air and pushed away in order to collect myself. It was only then that I felt the patch of warmth upon my hip bone, causing my head to jerk down in momentary confusion.
The sorrowful glow of Tyler’s eyes burned into the jean-clad skin of my legs, her forehead resting upon my hip as her small, gentle hands grasped my thigh in a fragile hug. She seemed just as lost as I was in that brief glance; however, the moment my attention was detected, her eyes jerked up towards mine and her face relaxed into a practiced neutral state.
“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” I murmured. Completely opposite the sound of minutes prior, this time my voice had come out recognizable. Gentle, maternal, loving, and considerate. A voice that Ron once said was the voice of an angel. His angel. It seemed decades away from times like that, times where I used to solely pride myself on being his.
“You are sad, but you weren’t crying,” Tyler stated, pointing out the obvious as if it was just that…obvious, yet had needed to be stated nevertheless.
A tired smile turned up the corners of my mouth as I bent down in order to place myself at her eyelevel. It was a trick that I had always used, making myself as small as she to prove that her voice counted just as much as mine did. That her voice would always count just as much as every other person in this world’s did. We were all created equal. “I didn’t mean to not cry.”
“Is crying okay?” she asked, her young brain always insightful.
Harry was the one to answer, even though I had already begun opening my mouth in response. He was abruptly squatting on the floor just to my side, gazing at his goddaughter with the warm eyes of someone who truly cared.
For as long as I had known him, which had now been almost fourteen years, I had always knew that he was compassionate. To his friends and his enemies. It was not something Harry was necessarily proud of, but it was something that I had always loved him for through thick and thin. Yet, no matter how many times his humble nature and understanding ways had been displayed first-hand to me throughout the years, I had never seen him as gentle and kindhearted with anyone as much as I had with Tyler. She was simply adored by him in everyway. Watching his protectiveness and love for my daughter never ceased to amaze me. “Of course it is,” I heard him murmur, “It takes a truly strong individual to be able to cry in front of others. Crying is a sign of feeling. A natural action in life.”
“Are you sure? Because Mummy never cries anymore,” Tyler said, disbelieving his word over my actions.
“I’m positive,” Harry assured her, casting a sidelong, meaningful look my way.
“Uncle Harry is absolutely right, Tyler,” I hastily agreed, smiling as warmly as possible while contemplating his words. Was my not being able to cry simply a sign of weakness? Was Harry truly right? If so, my whole view would be thrown for a loop. I had always felt that my body’s inability, over the last year, to cry was simply a way of remaining strong through the loss of Ron.
“We’d better chivvy along, though,” Harry grinned, standing up again as if he only just remembered that we had somewhere we were supposed to be, “Seems Uncle Charlie is getting antsy.”
We all turned to look behind us, myself only just realizing that the beast was still in the room. I held back a bark of laughter when I saw that, sure enough, Charlie was definitely getting restless. He was fidgeting his hands, tapping his foot impatiently, all while clucking his tongue and looking up at the ceiling. When he noticed our gaze, he immediately stood up straight regarding us with innocent eyes. “What?” he asked, so naively that even I had to admit it was slightly endearing.
“Aren’t you ready?” I asked, brightening from the earlier events already. Well, perhaps it was more like changing the subject at the earliest convenience. Either way, it worked to Charlie’s advantage as well as my own. He wanted out just as much as I did at this point. Away from Harry, at least.
“Uncle Charlie,” Tyler sighed, “You need to pay more attentin.”
“It’s ‘attention,’ Love,” Harry laughed, winking her way. She smiled and hid her face in my thigh again, always positively charmed by any of her uncles.
Charlie was grinning, too, by this time. One thing that I couldn’t hold against him was the besotted stupor that came over him because of my daughter’s bashful, adorable ways. It was the same with every person that crossed her path. It was a known fact that young Tyler Rae Weasley was simply captivating.
“Are we flooing?” I asked, directing the question at Harry.
Charlie was the one to answer, though…Big surprise, “’Course not, Granger. We’re apparating.”
“Apparating? Isn’t it too far?” I asked, again directing my question at Harry.
Again Charlie answered, “Well, yeah. But, we’re going to go half way first and then continue on to the reserve. Apparating is much safer than flooing…It’s less easy to monitor. Of course, there are still risks. That’s why we’ll be pairing up for the transit.”
I ignored the fact that the word “transit” once again made Tyler and I sound like a parcel of post, preferring to target the more trying topic at hand. “Pairing up?”
“Yes,” Harry said, finally finding a break between Charlie’s quick replies. His tone already sounded slightly subdued and apologetic. I didn’t quite understand why until he spoke again. “We’ll be having to perform side-along apparitions.”
“That’s fine,” I said, still oblivious of the reason of his rueful expression, “I’ve apparated with Tyler before.”
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry winced, “But, Charlie and I have already discussed this earlier. It’ll be safer if each of you were escorted by one of us…You know, just in case we are intercepted.”
I had to bite my lip in order to resist a frustrated scream. After all, I knew they were right. No matter how much I wanted to make myself believe that I could easily fend off any attacker while guarding Tyler at the same time, I couldn’t. Nor could Charlie. Which led me to resist another scream…He’d have to be the one to bring me. Harry was the strongest of us three, no matter how humble he tried to be about it. It was just the way things were, and he would be the one who could most easily take on a group of Death Eater while also protecting my daughter.
“Perfect opportunity, Sweet thing,” Charlie smirked, using the pet name teasingly as he opened up his arms welcomingly, “Care to cope a feel?”
“You are incorrigible,” I grumbled, glaring at him in disgust while my face blushed red at the mere thought. I hated when I let people get to me, and it seemed that Charlie was definitely able to put chinks in my armor. The git. I knew that the only reason he wasn’t objecting to this was that he knew how much the very idea would make me seethe. He loved to rile me up just as much as I loved to tear him down.
“Not incorrigible, just insatiable,” he grinned, raising an amused eyebrow at me challengingly. “What are you…afraid? Just get your arse over here so we can leave already.”
I glanced over to Tyler, finding her already situated in Harry’s arms while he tickled her tummy and joked around with her. Neither of them were paying the two of us any mind. I looked back to Charlie, “You hold onto my shoulders…No where else.”
“’Course,” he responded, nodding his head yet not getting rid of the damned smirk.
With a sigh, I trudged over to him and stood a foot in front of him, “Okay.”
“Good,” Charlie said, glancing over my shoulder, “All right Harry?”
“All right, Charlie.”
“Excellent,” was all I heard Charlie reply before he pulled me smack up against his body and I suddenly felt the familiar chilly pressure that apparition brought on. The sensation seemed to ignite my whole body one nerve at a time, pushing and pulling at my flesh for hours; yet, in all actuality it was all of five seconds long before I felt a solid boundary beneath the soles of my feet, causing me to rock in unsteadiness. The only things that kept me from falling right smack down on my face as reality resurfaced, were the muscles which were snugly wrapped around my waist and lower back.
“I told you to only hold my shoulders,” I mumbled, still feeling the web of the transportation clouded around my eyes.
“Well,” Charlie whispered huskily in my ear, not sounding the least bit fazed and not breaking the embrace at all, “I didn’t have a good enough grip. Didn’t want to lose you.”
“Yeah, as if I’m supposed to believe that.”
“You don’t have to,” he shrugged, I could almost hear the smile in his voice.
“Fine, I won’t,” I huffed, leaning back from him quickly. I wasn’t quite accepting of the natural response that my body was having to the deep contours of his voice, the reverberating of his chest against mine, or the way his muscles seemed to mold into my own. It was disconcerting and not acceptable to even be remotely aware of it at all. Besides, this was Charlie Weasley we were talking about here. We weren’t on very great terms presently and I figured we had enough conflicting points-of-view between us to keep the anger alive.
“Fine,” Charlie said, his tone still remaining amused, “Besides, I have plenty of time these next few months to make you see things my way.”
I hadn’t the slightest idea what he meant by the statement, nor did I have time to react to it. His arms fell back around me, holding onto my hips as pressure once again built up and we apparated away. Away to Romania and a future that no longer seemed clear or predictable to me.
Author: Subrosa143
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter. All original people, places, and things are mine.
Pairing: Charlie/Hermione
Rating: Mature
Summary: I never knew the meaning of guilt until Ron’s death when I felt the new emotion closing in on me on all sides. It drove me away from those who I loved. Most importantly of all, however, it drove me away from the insufferable man that constantly caused feelings of hate, annoyance, shame, and lust, to boil within me. Why doesn’t the past ever stay buried?
Warnings: AU, Character Death
Genre: Drama, Romance
AN: Here's chapter 2 of PG. I hope you enjoy :D Be sure to drop me a comment!
The strength that it would take for me to leave the comforting confines of my own home didn’t quite strike me until late afternoon of the day following my talk with Harry. Though nothing outstanding, Ron and I had worked hard to establish a house that felt safe for both us and our daughter during the world’s dark and difficult times. The idea of parting ways with the quaint cabin in the woods seemed to be unfeasible. After all, it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was secure. It had a lovely stone fireplace in the livingroom where Ron used to roast marshmallows with Tyler throughout the course of long winters, and there was a beautiful set of wicker furniture upon its back porch in the ideal position to watch Tyler play in the yard from. In my own little world, the cabin was absolutely perfect in every single way, shape and form.
“I don’t want to go live in Ramainda,” Tyler sulked from where she lay, spread out across my bed while I rummaged for clothing through my old, oak dresser. It was going to take a miracle to fit everything into a single case of luggage, which had been Charlie’s one request. Both Tyler and myself were to only bring one each. I was firm in my belief that he was merely saying so in the hope of ruffling my feathers. The pompous, arrogant…git. Now, I was going to have to shrink every article of clothing, making an hour long process into nearly double that amount.
“It’s pronounced, ‘Ro-main-ee-a,’ Sweetie,” I quickly corrected, pronouncing the syllables the way they were truly meant to be said, “And, you love Uncle Charlie. It’s not a liking which I can completely understand and agree with, but you do.” Turning around to look at Tyler, I smiled compassionately. The one personality tribute which Tyler seemed to have acquired from me was her sense of control and order. Therefore, she was packed and ready to go already; despite the lack of motivation she held towards the idea.
“But, you don’t like Uncle Charlie. You both hate each other. It’s going to be no fun, at all,” Tyler insisted, rolling onto her back to look dramatically up at the ceiling. “I want to stay home.”
Not able to help the wave of guilt which rushed through me, I bit my lip. My stubbornness would never be able to be placed aside long enough to call a complete truce with Charlie; but, perhaps we could pretend like everything was perfectly sunshine and rainbows between us. At least for Tyler’s sake, if any. She was the one, after all, who would be most affected if our fighting continued over the course of the next few months.
“‘Hate’ is an extremely harsh word, Tyler,” I found myself saying after a moment’s hesitation. “Uncle Charlie and I don’t hate each other. It’s impossible to hate family.”
“You told Daddy that you hated him,” she whispered, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. The comment struck me like a knife through the heart. It was true, nevertheless. Just a day before his death, Ron and I had argued worse than ever before. It had ended with me irrationally screaming that he was selfish and that I hated him for it. It had been completely ill-advised that Tyler had been in the next room over while the argument had raged.
Tears stung in the back corners of my eyes as I remembered the hurt on his face after those words were uttered. “People say horrible things when they are argry or upset,” I murmured, my voice cracking with retained emotion, “Things that they don’t necessarily mean.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Everyday, Sweetie.”
Tyler smiled miserably, her deep blue eyes brimming with tears, “Me too.”
It was the first time in months that we had even neared the subject of her father, never mind opened up about it. There was just too much to say to get it all out at once. It would take too much energy out of the both of us to do so. Consequently, we had come to an unspoken agreement that we would slowly, and steadily, release our feelings. I desperately wished that I could be the rock that Tyler needed to hold herself up about the loss, but I knew I couldn’t. That was why Harry had become such a common face in the house. Tyler constantly opened herself up to him, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to say certain things straight to me.
“I know,” I said, quickly sitting beside her on the bed and gently drawing her into my lap. She shook with quiet sobs as I soothingly ran my hand over the back of her head, wishing I could bask in the release of tears, also.
“It’s n-not fair,” she whimpered, so softly that I needed to strain myself just in order to hear, “W-We needed h-him. He sh-shouldn’t have left us. He k-knew we needed h-him.”
“I know,” I repeated, looking out of the window and into the surrounding woods of our property. Regardless of how much I tried to suppress it: the pain, the suffering…It never really seemed to come to an end. At least, not before it consumed everything, making me quake in its wake. Forcing me into a half-life. A life that felt like something far into the shadows between life and death. Never quite living, no matter how hard I attempted to. Never quite able to cry, no matter how much I tried to force it.
For the first time in my life, I was, to some extent, terrified to enter the Burrow. The house which had been my home away from home since my adolescence. The crooked sign marking the place for its name no longer seemed comical. Actually, I vaguely was reminded of the jagged signs in Muggle horror movies, warning the unknowing victims of the “Danger!” that was to come.
It was all quite silly, I reasoned with myself. My mind was getting ahead of me, making the situation far more dramatic than it truly needed to be. It was not that big of a deal, really. Tyler and I were about to simply take a…vacation -yes, that’s a good word for it- away from our normal, everyday routines. The fact that I would be living along side the Antichrist was merely an added bonus to test my wits and keep me sharp in case Harry came to find that I’m needed in this new fight.
“Mummy, are we going to go in now? It’s chilly!” said Tyler, who was now persistently tugging on the sleeve of my cherry colored jumper.
It was only then that I realized that it was, indeed, very chilly. Winter was coming around with a bang, that was for sure. I could feel the cold nipping at the skin of my cheeks, no doubt causing them to stain with redness. Tyler was, at this point, jumping up and down, pivoting quickly from foot to foot. Not able to withhold a chuckle, a swept her up into my arms as she continued to bounce within my grasp. “Alright, alright. Lets go,” I resigned, brushing her nose playfully with my own. Her eyes shined in response as her tiny, mitten-clad, hands came to a rest upon my shoulders. One fist balled gently in my hair.
“What about our bags?” she asked, only slightly interested in all actuality.
“We’ll let Uncle Harry get them since he is such a magnificent person full of compassion and care.”
“Are you being sar…sarcis…?”
“Sarcastic?” I supplied helpfully, brushing back her fringe in order to watch the brief band of concentration run across her face in an attempt to come up with the answer herself.
“That’s the one!” She grinned, dimples rising charmingly across her rosy cheeks.
“In that case, yes.”
Balancing Tyler in my arms with one hand, I reached out to push open the door of the Burrow. The warmth of the home hit me with the force of a wrecking ball, causing gooseflesh to ignite across the back of my neck. Tyler and I sighed simultaneously in satisfaction as the frigid air slowly seeped from the creases of our clothing and skin.
“There you two are!” Harry exclaimed exasperatedly, pushing the door open with more force than really required as he walked into the foyer from the kitchen, “Charlie has been waiting for an hour. The least you could have done was be on time, Hermione. It isn’t as if he enjoys this plan all too much, either.”
Unable to prevent the eye roll elicited from his declaration, I snorted to myself and set Tyler on her feet at my side. “Poor, poor Charlie. Whatever can we do to make it up to him for being such a nuisance? Shall I just leave? Perhaps -and I know this is a shocking idea- we should stay home and not be shipped off like some common postage stamp?” My tone was quite sarcastic, even for me. What was I supposed to say to him, though? The fact that Charlie was annoyed with the delay did nothing to receive any sympathy from me. In fact, I wish he had just left and hadn’t bothered to wait for us. The idea that he did wait was rapidly making my blood boil in annoyance. Maybe Harry would have pushed aside this ridiculous scheme and would have let Tyler and I stay where we wished to stay had Charlie neglected to finally fall at the feet of Harry‘s desires.
“Good day to you, too,” a deep, gruff voice murmured from the kitchen doorway. If the owner of the voice hadn’t sounded so bloody amused with the whole situation I probably would have just shrugged off the remark and continued to seethe on and on to Harry. Unfortunately, he seemed unable to resist a highly entertained smirk when I spun to look his way and I suddenly felt the palm of my right hand begin to tingle in a firm desire to wipe the expression permanently off his face.
“Is it really a good day?” I asked, my voice sounding far different than the eerily calm monotone that had become a comfort to seek shelter in over the last year. Up until recently, I doubted that I had raised my voice at all for longer than I could remember; though, it did not take a philosopher to figure out around what time in my life the need to drift into the background began. Charlie, it seemed, was determined to shatter my peace. Hell, he already had destroyed it by agreeing to this whole ordeal. In fact, I was damn sure that it was even before the agreement, our row at the Burrow, that had ruined everything. And I severely disliked him for it. “How dare you! You despicable bastard. Rushing us as if the world was solely rotating in order to satisfy your every need. You are not the king of the universe, Charlie. In fact, you are nothing. No one of importance. You stroll in here as if I have every reason to bow down and spit out apology after apology for being a tad latter than expect. Well, guess what? You can go screw yourself…”
Harry’s arms were suddenly around my waist, pulling me into a bone-crushing embrace that caught me off guard, yet proved to be much needed. The moment my head came to a rest against his chest and the soft, subtle pounding of his heartbeat filled my ears, I realized how wound up I had been making myself. It had become customary, each time I found myself in the arms of my best friend, that I match my breathing to his. Usually, the change needn’t be dreadfully challenging. On most occasions our hearts would be working as one solitary unit by the second breath of air. Today was different, though. My heart was beating erratically and my breaths were coming in short gasps. Had I been normal, this would have been the time where I threw my face into the warm strength emitted off of Harry and cried. I wasn’t the least bit normal, therefore I merely sat and attempted to slow my heartbeat while my eyes stung with unshed emotion for what seemed to be the millionth time that week.
I felt as if I were standing, in that same position within Harry’s arms, for hours on end. In reality, it took all of two minutes before I allowed myself a last solitary deep breath of air and pushed away in order to collect myself. It was only then that I felt the patch of warmth upon my hip bone, causing my head to jerk down in momentary confusion.
The sorrowful glow of Tyler’s eyes burned into the jean-clad skin of my legs, her forehead resting upon my hip as her small, gentle hands grasped my thigh in a fragile hug. She seemed just as lost as I was in that brief glance; however, the moment my attention was detected, her eyes jerked up towards mine and her face relaxed into a practiced neutral state.
“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” I murmured. Completely opposite the sound of minutes prior, this time my voice had come out recognizable. Gentle, maternal, loving, and considerate. A voice that Ron once said was the voice of an angel. His angel. It seemed decades away from times like that, times where I used to solely pride myself on being his.
“You are sad, but you weren’t crying,” Tyler stated, pointing out the obvious as if it was just that…obvious, yet had needed to be stated nevertheless.
A tired smile turned up the corners of my mouth as I bent down in order to place myself at her eyelevel. It was a trick that I had always used, making myself as small as she to prove that her voice counted just as much as mine did. That her voice would always count just as much as every other person in this world’s did. We were all created equal. “I didn’t mean to not cry.”
“Is crying okay?” she asked, her young brain always insightful.
Harry was the one to answer, even though I had already begun opening my mouth in response. He was abruptly squatting on the floor just to my side, gazing at his goddaughter with the warm eyes of someone who truly cared.
For as long as I had known him, which had now been almost fourteen years, I had always knew that he was compassionate. To his friends and his enemies. It was not something Harry was necessarily proud of, but it was something that I had always loved him for through thick and thin. Yet, no matter how many times his humble nature and understanding ways had been displayed first-hand to me throughout the years, I had never seen him as gentle and kindhearted with anyone as much as I had with Tyler. She was simply adored by him in everyway. Watching his protectiveness and love for my daughter never ceased to amaze me. “Of course it is,” I heard him murmur, “It takes a truly strong individual to be able to cry in front of others. Crying is a sign of feeling. A natural action in life.”
“Are you sure? Because Mummy never cries anymore,” Tyler said, disbelieving his word over my actions.
“I’m positive,” Harry assured her, casting a sidelong, meaningful look my way.
“Uncle Harry is absolutely right, Tyler,” I hastily agreed, smiling as warmly as possible while contemplating his words. Was my not being able to cry simply a sign of weakness? Was Harry truly right? If so, my whole view would be thrown for a loop. I had always felt that my body’s inability, over the last year, to cry was simply a way of remaining strong through the loss of Ron.
“We’d better chivvy along, though,” Harry grinned, standing up again as if he only just remembered that we had somewhere we were supposed to be, “Seems Uncle Charlie is getting antsy.”
We all turned to look behind us, myself only just realizing that the beast was still in the room. I held back a bark of laughter when I saw that, sure enough, Charlie was definitely getting restless. He was fidgeting his hands, tapping his foot impatiently, all while clucking his tongue and looking up at the ceiling. When he noticed our gaze, he immediately stood up straight regarding us with innocent eyes. “What?” he asked, so naively that even I had to admit it was slightly endearing.
“Aren’t you ready?” I asked, brightening from the earlier events already. Well, perhaps it was more like changing the subject at the earliest convenience. Either way, it worked to Charlie’s advantage as well as my own. He wanted out just as much as I did at this point. Away from Harry, at least.
“Uncle Charlie,” Tyler sighed, “You need to pay more attentin.”
“It’s ‘attention,’ Love,” Harry laughed, winking her way. She smiled and hid her face in my thigh again, always positively charmed by any of her uncles.
Charlie was grinning, too, by this time. One thing that I couldn’t hold against him was the besotted stupor that came over him because of my daughter’s bashful, adorable ways. It was the same with every person that crossed her path. It was a known fact that young Tyler Rae Weasley was simply captivating.
“Are we flooing?” I asked, directing the question at Harry.
Charlie was the one to answer, though…Big surprise, “’Course not, Granger. We’re apparating.”
“Apparating? Isn’t it too far?” I asked, again directing my question at Harry.
Again Charlie answered, “Well, yeah. But, we’re going to go half way first and then continue on to the reserve. Apparating is much safer than flooing…It’s less easy to monitor. Of course, there are still risks. That’s why we’ll be pairing up for the transit.”
I ignored the fact that the word “transit” once again made Tyler and I sound like a parcel of post, preferring to target the more trying topic at hand. “Pairing up?”
“Yes,” Harry said, finally finding a break between Charlie’s quick replies. His tone already sounded slightly subdued and apologetic. I didn’t quite understand why until he spoke again. “We’ll be having to perform side-along apparitions.”
“That’s fine,” I said, still oblivious of the reason of his rueful expression, “I’ve apparated with Tyler before.”
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry winced, “But, Charlie and I have already discussed this earlier. It’ll be safer if each of you were escorted by one of us…You know, just in case we are intercepted.”
I had to bite my lip in order to resist a frustrated scream. After all, I knew they were right. No matter how much I wanted to make myself believe that I could easily fend off any attacker while guarding Tyler at the same time, I couldn’t. Nor could Charlie. Which led me to resist another scream…He’d have to be the one to bring me. Harry was the strongest of us three, no matter how humble he tried to be about it. It was just the way things were, and he would be the one who could most easily take on a group of Death Eater while also protecting my daughter.
“Perfect opportunity, Sweet thing,” Charlie smirked, using the pet name teasingly as he opened up his arms welcomingly, “Care to cope a feel?”
“You are incorrigible,” I grumbled, glaring at him in disgust while my face blushed red at the mere thought. I hated when I let people get to me, and it seemed that Charlie was definitely able to put chinks in my armor. The git. I knew that the only reason he wasn’t objecting to this was that he knew how much the very idea would make me seethe. He loved to rile me up just as much as I loved to tear him down.
“Not incorrigible, just insatiable,” he grinned, raising an amused eyebrow at me challengingly. “What are you…afraid? Just get your arse over here so we can leave already.”
I glanced over to Tyler, finding her already situated in Harry’s arms while he tickled her tummy and joked around with her. Neither of them were paying the two of us any mind. I looked back to Charlie, “You hold onto my shoulders…No where else.”
“’Course,” he responded, nodding his head yet not getting rid of the damned smirk.
With a sigh, I trudged over to him and stood a foot in front of him, “Okay.”
“Good,” Charlie said, glancing over my shoulder, “All right Harry?”
“All right, Charlie.”
“Excellent,” was all I heard Charlie reply before he pulled me smack up against his body and I suddenly felt the familiar chilly pressure that apparition brought on. The sensation seemed to ignite my whole body one nerve at a time, pushing and pulling at my flesh for hours; yet, in all actuality it was all of five seconds long before I felt a solid boundary beneath the soles of my feet, causing me to rock in unsteadiness. The only things that kept me from falling right smack down on my face as reality resurfaced, were the muscles which were snugly wrapped around my waist and lower back.
“I told you to only hold my shoulders,” I mumbled, still feeling the web of the transportation clouded around my eyes.
“Well,” Charlie whispered huskily in my ear, not sounding the least bit fazed and not breaking the embrace at all, “I didn’t have a good enough grip. Didn’t want to lose you.”
“Yeah, as if I’m supposed to believe that.”
“You don’t have to,” he shrugged, I could almost hear the smile in his voice.
“Fine, I won’t,” I huffed, leaning back from him quickly. I wasn’t quite accepting of the natural response that my body was having to the deep contours of his voice, the reverberating of his chest against mine, or the way his muscles seemed to mold into my own. It was disconcerting and not acceptable to even be remotely aware of it at all. Besides, this was Charlie Weasley we were talking about here. We weren’t on very great terms presently and I figured we had enough conflicting points-of-view between us to keep the anger alive.
“Fine,” Charlie said, his tone still remaining amused, “Besides, I have plenty of time these next few months to make you see things my way.”
I hadn’t the slightest idea what he meant by the statement, nor did I have time to react to it. His arms fell back around me, holding onto my hips as pressure once again built up and we apparated away. Away to Romania and a future that no longer seemed clear or predictable to me.