𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 | 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

Seventh-Year Success & She Said 'Yes!'

"Fine," sighed Charlie, slumping his shoulders. "But send a letter with the post every once and a while, won't you? I'll miss you lot, too."

"That," said Harry, nodding along with Ron, "we can do."

"I'll see if I can make time for it," Ron shrugged playfully, pulling back the curtains of the window so that they could see the sun shine over the Burrow's garden. "But anyways, let's go downstairs — I'm starving."

Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but when are you not?"

With a shared chuckle, the three Gryffindor boys piled through the door one after the other. They stumbled into the hallway, and the smell of Mrs. Weasley's infamous home cooking quickly flooded their nostrils from the floors below. The Burrow was eerily quiet as of late, for even the ghoul in the attic seemed to be mourning the death of Fred Weasley. It had only been five months since the end of the Second Wizarding War, but adjusting to the new normal of their lives proved to be a longer process then originally anticipated.

The entire Wizarding World had changed significantly since May 2nd of 1998; the Dark Lord had finally been conquered, the war had been won. The aftermath of the chaos, however, had become something that was an everyday struggle. Once the war was finished, there were survivors to search for and bodies to recover, wounded to tend to and dead to bury; which sadly included a small, private funeral service in the garden of the Burrow for the fallen souls of Fred, Tonks, and Remus.

As the last of the dead were laid to rest, Charlie spent the next few weeks in Australia with Hermione, searching for her parents in attempt to undo the Memory Charm and bring them back home. When they finally returned to England and Hermione went about getting her parents settled back into their old life, Charlie wasted his days away by the pond in the Burrow's back garden, silently trying to avoid the overflow of grief and sadness that hung over him like a black cloud.

In late June, there was a ceremony held to honor those who fought and died in the war, and the pride felt from the recipients of the 'Order of Merlin' awards was tainted by the Malfoys who had somehow managed to avoid imprisonment on a technicality. By the time August was upon them, though, the dawn of the new Hogwarts term was fast approaching, and this very fact seemed to spark new life within the streets of the Wizarding World; George had reopened Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes; Harry and Elaina had finally gotten used to looking after Tonks and Remus's son, Teddy; Mrs. Weasley was even back to her old self, cooking and cleaning and fretting over her children.

And now, on the first of September, Charlie eventually made his way down the hallway after Harry and Ron, passed all the other bedroom doors, and crept downstairs to the kitchen, making sure to skip the last step which always creaked. He glanced up at the bottom of the stairs and met the kind gazes of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Percy, and Bill and Fleur as the sound of newspaper crinkling and teacup clanking filled his ears once he stepped into the kitchen.

"Good morning, dears," greeted Mrs. Weasley, as she slid a piece of bacon onto her husband's plate. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," assured Charlie, and he took a seat next to Bill at the head of the table; Mrs. Weasley quickly came bustling over a plate of food, placing it in front of the young man, as he muttered, "Thank you."

"You're in the paper again, boys," said Mr. Weasley, brandishing the latest edition of the Daily Prophet in his left hand as he took a sip of his morning tea. "Rita Skeeter is still raving over your defeat of You-Know-Who."

"Well, can you blame her?" asked Ron jokingly, his words muffled through a mouthful of food. "We're ridiculously famous nowadays."

Bill laughed heartily at the head of the table, shaking his head at his younger brother.