Four Weddings and a Dragon - Charlie Weasley

Chapter 12

Hermione startled out of sleep, jarring Charlie awake along with her. It was a Saturday morning and all of their wake-up alarms should have been turned off. But something had rattled through her sleep all the same. Charlie groaned and held her closer as she started to rise, his face in her hair and his low, wordless morning voice rumbling against the back of her head.

She turned toward his voice. This early morning light was her favourite for looking at him. The bright sun on their white sheets made every one of his freckles visible. The light played up the flaming colour of his hair, and the way his face was dusted with whiskers. And if he were to open his eyes - that blue...

Forgetting about investigating what had woken her up, she was intent on seeing his eyes open, and she pressed soft kisses on his bare chest. Charlie's groan was more of a moan now, his leg moving over hers under the sheets, his weight shifting on top of her when the noise sounded again, like a stone tossed hard against the bedroom window pane.

She startled again and Charlie blew out a tired laugh. "Sounds like an owl," he said. "A nasty one. Better see to it before it breaks in."

"I'll go." She sat up, blinking across the room toward the window, the sheet tucked around her like the bodice of a ballgown. "But there's no post on Saturday. It can't be an owl." She said it even as she saw the great heap of feathers twitching impatiently on the window sill outside.

Charlie stretched himself into the pillows at his back. "Must be a special delivery."

Hermione looked back at him as she rose out of the bed. "Don't you move, Charlie Weasley. I want to find you exactly as you are when I get back."

The owl was a massive, majestic creature, more like an eagle than an owl. It seemed positively irate to be kept waiting so long. Hermione didn't have any treats for it, but offering any probably would have offended so fine a beast, so it was just as well. She shut the window and crashed back into bed beside Charlie with a letter inked on thick ivory parchment and marked with a seal in the shape of a grand letter M.

"It's from Malfoy Manor. Finally. I thought they'd never reply." She cleared her throat as she began to read the message aloud. "'Dear Madam Weasley' - oh, fancy. I've never been called that before," she said, smirking at the letter-writer's overblown manners.

"I like it," Charlie said, looping his arms around her waist. "Suits you fine. Better than fine, actually."

"Of course you like it, you incorrigible name fetishist," she said, tousling his hair. "Right, here's the rest. 'Please accept my apologies for the late reply, as I have lately been under the weather. It would give me great pleasure to lend you the volume you have requested from our family library. You may obtain it by meeting me at the annual Hogwarts Alumni Charity Benefit Quidditch Match next weekend. I trust you will be there, as I see your husband is named on the roster as the seeker for the Gryffindor team - "

"What?" Charlie said, sitting bolt upright. "I never agreed to that."

"You didn't even tell me they'd asked," Hermione said.

"Well, they only asked once both Harry and Ginny turned them down so close to the baby's arrival. I was invited as the consolation seeker," he said with a hint of a shudder. "No, thank you. And besides, you don't even like quidditch. It's a waste of both of our time."

Hermione clucked her tongue. "Consolation seeker - rubbish. You know Ginny isn't the only member of your family who could have had a professional career in quidditch. Everyone says so."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Please. You sound like ten-year-old Ronnie."

"And George, and your father, and Oliver Wood, and Madam Hooch, and Minerva McGonagall, and even Rita Skeeter, for stars' sake. She couldn't help but mention your quidditch prowess in our wedding announcement."