wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2010-02-16 00:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, 2010, hermione, percy, sirius |
Special delivery for midnight_birth
Title: A Long And Winding Road
Author/Artist:
Recipient's LJ name: midnight_birth
Pairing(s): Percy/Hermione, Charlie/Hermione (sort of), Sirius/Hermione, Snape/Lupin (side pairing), Harry/Ginny (side pairing), Percy/Tonks (hinted only)
Rating: NC17
Summary Too unsure to follow her heart, Hermione surprised everyone by making the wrong choice for all the right reasons. Someone's been waiting a long time for her to realize they were falling in love.
Word Count: 12,533
Warnings/Content: Oral Sex, Finger Insertion, Slash Side Pairing
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine unfortunately, they all belong to JKR.
Author's/Artist's notes: I had a lot of fun with your prompts, there was just so much to work with. I tried to include as much as I could get away with and still have a story that made sense. I will admit to a fair bit of stalking on your lj for hints and clues. I really hope you enjoy this, I had a blast writing it. Many thanks to my beta, you know who you are. In one of her edits she mentioned that not everyone would know that arils are pomegranate seeds. So now you do, if you didn’t already.
Prologue
The Burrow, 1998
"Charlie, can't you give it a rest with that camera?"
Hermione looked up from the kitchen table just as the flash flared. George staggered back, blinking, the camera still poised to get an extreme close-up of his left nostril. Behind Charlie's back Fred was trying to use stealth to get the object out of Charlie's hands.
"Mmm, these arils are sweet, and just a little bit tart. Want some, Hermione?"
She turned her attention back to her table-mate, Sirius, who had just sliced open a pomegranate and was busy extricating the seeds from the white pulp.
"Oh, thanks, Sirius, my favorite." Hermione ignored her ridiculous feminine reaction. The deep, resonant tenor of his voice always seemed to slide along her nerves like warm butter. The tips of his fingers and his lips had a slightly red stain from wrestling the fruit open and sampling its flavor. It was pure lunacy that she found it sensual. He might be fond of her, but he didn't see her like that.
Sirius pushed a wedge of the thick-skinned fruit toward her that was heavily loaded with the sweet, red seeds. Before she could taste any, though, Charlie was back to rounding up people for group shots.
"Come on, you two!" he said motioning to the pair at the table. "Now isn't the time for all that, Sirius! We need photographic commemoration, damn it."
"Time for all of what?" Hermione asked Sirius. He just rolled his eyes and gave Charlie a dark look. He was up swiftly and then said something quietly to Charlie, who simply returned a cheeky grin.
"Fred, George, Ron; gather round, you lazy sods," bellowed Charlie, though in good nature. Fred and George pushed Ron into the line of Charlie's fire while making faces at their younger brother.
"Harry, Remus; come on you two," cajoled Sirius as he got into place beside Hermione. Remus shook his head, but looked vaguely amused at the proceedings and played along.
"Alright, alright," said Harry. He took a stand in front of Remus. Sirius, the tallest in the group, stood to one of Harry’s shoulders, and Ron the other. While the twins provoked Ron, Hermione felt a cautious hand wend its way around her waist, and then pull her in a little. She looked up just in time to catch Sirius and Charlie share a significant look. When she turned her head to see if she could read Sirius' expression, wondering what that look had been about, she found that he was busy making a fool of Remus (or perhaps just himself) with two fingers doing rabbit ears behind the werewolf's head. His quiet "Furry Little Problem" earned him snickers from the group, and a very patient sigh from Remus.
Just as Charlie was about to take the shot, Hermione felt her whole body lurch to the left as at just that moment, Sirius hip-bumped Harry as Ginny walked into the room.
"Damn it, Black!" growled Charlie, but without any real menace. Just as he was about to try for another shot, the kitchen door to the yard opened and in walked Percy. His arrival had a quieting effect on the whole group. Things were better but not quite normal with Percy, who was still a bit lost when it came to interacting with his family.
"I'm not interrupting, am I?" asked Percy, as he closed the door behind him and took a hesitant step inside.
There was a moment of awkward silence before Hermione piped up, saying, "Of course not, Percy. We were just taking group shots for Charlie. Come join us."
Hermione felt the arm around her middle tighten almost imperceptibly, and thought she heard a slight grumbling groan from Sirius. It was so quiet, though, that she couldn't be sure.
"Thanks, Hermione," said Percy.
That seemed to be enough for the crowd of Weasleys and extended family to let go of the awkward moment as Fred sent a jinx to Ron's flaming red hair, turning it a lush purple.
Three years later...
Ministry of Magic: Office of Hermione Granger
"I thought that went very well!"
Hermione smiled up as her boyfriend entered. As always Percy's robes were impeccably neat, his shockingly red hair parted perfectly down the middle, and his little blue bow tie straight as a pin.
"Do you really?" Hermione frowned, hating the fact that she could hear that tiny bit of doubt lacing through her words.
"Oh, yes," he replied smugly, "I spoke with the Minister himself after you left." He tapped his nose with his finger. "He says once you bring in your experts, Umbridge will have no choice but to back off."
"I really hate that woman," she said darkly. She had believed that today the Wizengamot would make their final decision. Either they would accept her revisions to existing laws to be voted upon or they would not. She had not expected another stalling tactic from Umbridge. The beastly woman had cited an arcane bit of legal procedure as a last attempt to put Hermione off this business of equality for non-wizarding beings. According to protocol she had just one week to gather professional opinions. "If I can't meet her demand, I'll have to start all over again! Where am I supposed to get testimony on such short notice?" The prospect was daunting.
"It's just a formality, ducks," he soothed, side-stepping the issue of Umbridge altogether; lambasting the woman would border on hypocritical as he had once worked very hard to earn her approval. Percy took his seat across the desk from her and began to write some names on a sheet of parchment. "Now, these are a few people I think you ought to speak with." He handed the sheet across to her.
She perused the first name on the list and the note he had written beside it. "Charlie makes sense, but why in person? Couldn't I just owl?" Hermione worried her lower lip in frustration as she contemplated the hassle of a trip to Romania.
Percy shook his head sagely. "Well, as you know, the Wizengamot is familiar with him. Father always calls on him when he needs a professional opinion on magical creatures. But he is also damn hard to get off the preserve. That is why I suggest you go in person, talk him up a bit. That's one of your strengths, you know, your ability to talk people into a corner until they either have no choice but to agree with you or give up out of sheer exhaustion."
Hermione ducked her head to hide a small smile, though she wished she had his confidence in her. "Percy, you know him better than that. If there is one man in this world I can't bully it’s your brother Charlie."
"And me," he retorted quickly, but then caught her smile and grinned himself.
"You I never have to bully, Percy. We usually see eye to eye on everything."
"Great minds think alike." Percy checked his watch and then crossed his legs, casting a glance over his shoulder at the door. Hermione frowned slightly at his fidgeting. He was always worried that he didn't look industrious enough. It was an intrinsic part of his personality that she understood, but had more tolerance for in herself.
"Firenze makes a lot of sense," she said quietly, referring back to the list. "Do you really think I can get him to speak at the Ministry as well?"
"You'll just have to go and talk to him, too. I suspect you can catch both him and Lupin on the same visit." Percy started to rise, smoothing out the creases in his robes as he got to his feet.
"Right, yes, that's actually a good idea. Kill two birds with one stone," she murmured absently, her thoughts still on how to convince Firenze to speak before the Wizengamot.
"Do what?" Percy paused, hand on the door and a very puzzled expression on his face.
Hermione looked up and smirked. "Sorry, love; Muggle expression."
"Ah," said Percy, nodding. For whatever reason, he never did seem to be able to remember those little foreign expressions of hers. "I suspect we'll see each other again before the end of the day." He started to exit but then suddenly turned with a smirk of his own. "And don't forget, it's Wednesday night, so no working late." One last wink and then he was gone.
Hermione held her smile in place until she was certain Percy was really on his way back to his office. His weekly wink, and little reminder that their night to set ambition aside and enjoy each other physically, no longer set the butterflies of anticipation to flutter in her stomach the way that it used when it was still new. Now it just annoyed her. Their careers kept them busy and consumed much of their time. So Percy had suggested they set aside a night for each other. This had sounded like a splendid idea to start, but it wasn't long before it was their only night.
This rigidity spilled over into other areas of their life as well. There were a lot of very good things about being in a relationship with Percy; in fact on paper it was practically a match made in heaven. They had many traits in common, both being organized and driven with strong, keen minds and even stronger wills. These were all things she adored about Percy. The differences between them lay in their motivation. It was hard to set oneself apart with older brothers like Charlie and Bill. She had seen Ron struggle with this as well, but instead of brooding in dark jealousy, Percy aimed for recognition beyond what his family could offer. It was an obsession that touched every area of their personal life. If they went to a certain restaurant to dine, she could bet a Ministry higher up had plans for the same establishment on the same night. If they took a tour of country manors and castles, the chances were high that a visiting dignitary would be joining them.
For Hermione, the goals were very different. She wanted recognition, of course, but not for its own sake. She wanted to leave the world a better place than she had found it - a world that treated not only Muggleborns with fairness and equality, but all creatures that came under the guidance and ruling of the Ministry. She was just as driven and single-minded in pursuit of a goal, but once it was achieved, she could put ambition aside and enjoy her life. Percy very rarely left his work at the office. At dinner each evening he would regale her with stories about his day in excruciating detail. She longed to have someone who would appreciate art, literature, or music without wondering if there was someone to impress with the knowledge.
Even this she could overlook, though. What relationship didn't have its problems? But his regimented ideals touched into even more personal areas, and that was much harder to ignore. It wasn't even so much that the sex itself was dissatisfying. His technique (and hers as well if she was being completely honest) had required a little honing in the beginning, but once they had figured out the basics of satisfying each other, they never went very far beyond it. Hermione found that the longer she was with him, the more she would like to see this changed. Unfortunately, Percy had little interest in discussing it. He was a strong man, a characteristic she valued, but his pride got in the way. The male ego, she had learned, was a very delicate thing, and something she had never been very adept at negotiating.
Truthfully, she was ready to move on. She had pursued Percy because at the time, he seemed perfect. After Ron, she'd needed someone to adore her and make her feel better. Percy had done that beautifully, but it had just gone on too long. He'd been her rebound man, and with him things were so comfortable, she just didn't see any reason to make a change. It wasn't fair to him at all, and for that she felt a heavy burden of guilt. She didn't love him, and likely never would. But then, she didn't think he loved her either. They didn't make each other unhappy, but neither did they have a passion for one another.
Hermione sighed heavily as she chewed the blue-stained tip of her quill, an old habit she had never been able to break. Moments like these always led her to a vague feeling of having overlooked something. Whatever it was, it was slippery, elusive, never holding still long enough for her to grasp it.
The following morning...
Sibiu, Romania
Hermione sat in a small cafe in Sibiu sipping tea, and watching a clock on the wall slowly tick the morning away. Each time the door swung open with the charming little bell chiming its welcome she would look up hopefully. So far each time it was only one of the cafe's patrons in to get hot coffee or tea, and perhaps something to nibble on.
Her plans were to pick up a guide here and then travel west into the heart of the Carpathians. She had fire-called Charlie the day before saying she would explain everything when she saw him in person. He had agreed reluctantly, and fortunately knew of a person that would be willing to bring her in. She had gotten this far by Apparating, and now she waited.
Of all the Weasleys, Charlie was the one she had the least exposure to. Percy had been confident in her ability to get him off the preserve to help with the campaign, but the fact that she would have to convince him at all had her worried. Charlie was known to have a knowledgeable opinion on many magical creatures, not just dragons. When the Ministry needed an expert, they often turned to him. Hermione knew this had quite a bit to do with Charlie's father recommending him, but what mattered was that his name was one they knew.
The door to the cafe opened again, letting in an elderly couple with a small blond child. The young boy, who Hermione guessed to be their grandson, bounced up to the counter and perused the selection of sweets. Hermione sighed and checked the clock again. A few minutes more and her guide would be late.
The problem for Hermione was that Charlie usually gave his views through correspondence. If he left the preserve at all, it was for holidays and family events, not to give his professional opinion. She already had Hagrid, but he wasn't as highly respected on account of his heritage. Change came slowly to wizards and Hermione was impatient. Percy was right; Charlie was key to her argument. But would he help her? That was the real question. He liked his solitude and his dragons, and might not appreciate being dragged before the Wizengamot when he could just as easily write it out for her, especially on such short notice. Hermione wanted the impact of Charlie himself to help strengthen her position. She also didn't want to give Umbridge any room to wiggle. That crafty old sow would surely attempt to cast doubt on Charlie's written statement, and a bit of parchment couldn't talk back, or explain in greater detail.
The door to the cafe opened again; this time, however, there was no beeline to the counter. The man in the doorway was a good forty years her senior. His face was whiskered and he had little tufts of hair shooting out of his ears. He walked into the cafe with a mild limp, and reminded her of a gnarled old tree stump as he looked around the small establishment. In one hand he held a photo, checking it against each individual until his eyes landed on her.
"Her- Herm- Herm-ni-yoni?"
Hermione nodded and smiled as she stood up. The man broke into a wide, gap-toothed grin, and began speaking rapidly in Romanian, of which she understood not a single word. Finally, apparently resigned that they weren't destined to communicate, the man sort of shrugged, and then patted himself on the chest.
"Nico."
Hermione pointed at him. "Nico?"
"Weasley?" Nico held up the picture for her to see, a picture of herself taken at the Burrow with Ron, Harry, Ginny, Remus and Sirius. She remembered that day very clearly. It wasn't very long after this that she had started to see Percy. In the photograph Ron kept looking away to laugh at something the twins were up to, and Ginny kept pinching him in the side so he would look into the camera. Remus played the straight man (which was a laugh because she was pretty sure he was gay) with a bland but pleasant expression, while Sirius held two fingers behind his head.
Sirius’ other arm was wrapped around her waist, and he kept bumping Harry with his hip. They all looked so happy and carefree, Sirius most especially, finally a free man. It made her wistful and nostalgic for that first year after the war was over. Things were so different now. After Percy abandoned his family, Sirius never quite looked at him the same way. Ironic really, but Sirius' dislike for Percy stemmed from why he had rejected his family. It made Percy very uncomfortable. So much so that he even preferred she not spend much time around Sirius. Harry had mentioned once that Sirius had taken her absence personally, but there wasn't much she could do about it.
Nico cleared his throat a little, pulling her mind out of its reverie. He smiled when she looked up and turned the photograph over and handed it to her. There on the back in small messy scrawl was a short missive.
Hermione, the man with your picture is Nico Creangă. I've hired him to bring you in. Still have no idea what you're doing here but looking forward to seeing you. Charlie
Nico waited for her to finish reading, and then began speaking rapidly once again. Hermione shook her head to say she wasn't following a single blessed word. Nico spied her traveling bag, shrugged, and then picked it up. Hermione understood and followed Nico out.
Parked in the street was an ancient, slightly beat-up, violently orange Opel Rekord with a flaking paint job. Nico gestured proudly to it and then quickly tossed her bag into the back seat. He walked around the car and opened the front passenger side. The door swung open with a loud creak, and was slammed shut with a solid bang. Nico hurried around to the driver side and got in. When he turned the key, Hermione caught a glimpse of billowing blue-gray smoke out of the side mirror. The old auto chugged and wheezed and shuddered, but the engine refused to turn over. Hermione couldn't understand a word Nico said to the antique car, but she suspected the first part of his rant was cursing, the second half begging. She looked out the window to hide her amusement.
The car finally started with a terrific roar, belching a last black cloud out the tail pipe. Hermione jumped a little and squeaked with surprise. No Apparating or flying was allowed into the preserve so she supposed that this was how it would have to be. They started out of the town, the quaint red-roofed homes and city sights passing by as they sped into wilderness, the Rekord vibrating all the while like a leaf caught in a hurricane.
Nico kept up a steady stream of chatter as they headed west into the Retezat Mountains to a portion of Romania rarely seen by wizards and never by Muggles. Hermione watched the landscape change, their elevation rising higher and higher. The cars they passed on the way were few, and became even fewer as the mountains rose all around them.
It was a beautiful country. Hermione could easily see the appeal. The passing landscape gave her time to think. She tried to focus on what she would say to Charlie, but her mind kept drifting back to Percy and what, if anything, she should do. She was so caught up in viewing the forest and mountains, and her somewhat troubled thoughts, that she was genuinely surprised when the Rekord came to a shuddering stop.
Somehow the trip had passed without her noticing that the sun had set. The world was bathed in darkness save what light the Rekord's headlamps shone on it. There was a tiny, thatched-roof hut with a single candle burning in the window. Flanked on either side of the hut was a tall wrought-iron fence that fled away into the darkness. Nico said something to her, gesturing with his hands that suggested she keep her seat. As he got out of the car, a pair exited the little hut. The two men walked over to the car and one of them bent down to peer in the window.
"You just going to stay in there all night?"
Hermione shook her head and grinned. Charlie opened the door and helped her out, pulling her into a warm hug. Muscular arms tightened briefly around her, and then let go. He stepped back to get a better look, though it was far too dark for him to really see her, even with the light the Rekord's lamps provided.
"I half thought you'd change your mind. Never thought to see you out of the city, or your comfortable office at the Ministry. Hope you're up to roughing it a bit." Charlie grinned impishly as he took her bag from Nico. The two men spoke in Romanian for a moment, stealing her opportunity for a retort. She had camped out with no food or water during the war; a little trip into the mountains was nothing compared to that.
When they were done speaking, Nico grinned at her, said something she couldn't understand, and then gave a little wave in parting. She smiled back and watched as he got back into his beat-up orange beast.
"Hermione, this is my friend Patrick; he minds the guard house for us." Hermione smiled at the other man and shook his hand as Nico finally got the Rekord started with a bang, testing her nerves not to jump and squeal. Her pride demanded that she prove herself more than a silly girl to be frightened by a few loud noises.
"Lovely to meet you, Patrick," she said. The wand-light reflected off the whites of his eyes in the near pitch black, the only bit of him she could really see. "It must get lonely in your little cabin there."
"Nah." Patrick winked at her. "Dragons beat my mother trying to set me up with all of her friend's daughters. Isn't that right, Charlie boy?"
Hermione cut a wry grin at Charlie, wondering just how much truth there was in Patrick's taunt.
"It's a bit late," said Charlie, amused. "Perhaps we should get you settled and in the morning I can show you around, and you can finally tell me why you're here."
"That sounds perfect." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, tired from the road and looking forward to a bed. Patrick offered his 'good evening' and then she and Charlie walked through a gate in the iron fence.
What she hadn't been able to see in the dark, but came closer into view as they walked, was a small village of little huts. With Charlie's wand illuminating the night around them she was able to see that they were wooden with thatched roofs just like the guard house, only a little larger. They passed several of these darkened homes until one came into view that had a few candles glowing warmly through the windows.
"That's me there." Charlie pointed out the dimly lit hut.
Once inside Hermione looked around at the spare little house. There was a threadbare couch with a small table beside on which rested a single candle and a leather-bound book. Next to the tiny kitchenette was an abused-looking table where a pair of candles burned. Between the candles was a bowl containing two green apples, the skins of which had wrinkled a bit. Two metal chairs with meager cushions were pushed into the table. The cushions had a few small tears that no one had bothered to try and mend. Just beyond the kitchenette was a short hallway with two doors.
"You can take my bed," said Charlie, pointing to one of the doors first, and then the other. "Bathroom's just there. I'll take the couch."
"No, I couldn't ask you to do that, Charlie."
"Nonsense." Charlie was already walking back to the bedroom with her bag. "I would never hear the end of it from Mum."
Hermione sighed and nodded, too tired to really argue the point. Inside the bedroom was a narrow bed with a single pillow, another low table with a candle, and a small dresser.
"See you in the morning, Hermione. I can't wait to hear what this is all about."
Hermione gave him a resigned smile as he closed the door, still feeling bad about putting him out of his own bed.
That next morning...
The Dragon Reserve
The dawn in her window, and the delicious smell of food being prepared, woke Hermione the following morning. She yawned a little and stretched before getting out of bed and going over to the window. It was quite early. The sun was still hidden below the horizon, painting the sky with a fantastic array of yellow and orange. It was also very, very cold.
With a change of clothes and toiletries in hand, Hermione opened the door. Standing just on the other side was Charlie with his hand poised in the air, ready to knock. Hermione blinked, breath caught in her throat on sight of him. Of all the Weasley boys, Charlie was probably the huskiest. From what she could see, not an ounce of it was fat. The morning chill that had her shivering didn't seem to bother him. Wearing only a pair of jeans and a grin, Charlie looked good enough to eat. An elaborate tattoo of a dragon decorated his right arm and extended down his well-defined chest, intriguing her so much that she had to remind herself it would be rude to touch, not to mention unseemly. This reaction shocked and surprised her. He was so very, very male, a stark contrast to Percy who, while not androgynous by any means, was also not quite this picture of flagrant masculine beauty.
To her horror, his grin turned cheeky as he caught her giving him a careful once-over.
"I see you're already up." Much to her relief, he didn't comment on her blatant stare. She was certain that would have killed her right there on the spot. It was bad enough that she knew her hair must be doing fantastic things without so much as a comb put to it yet. That didn't seem to bother him though, as he brazenly returned her look.
"Y-Yes." Take a hold of yourself, Granger! Hermione willed her voice steady and clear. "Just going to dress and freshen up a bit."
"Breakfast is ready, and after I'll take you on the tour." Before returning to the kitchen he added a wink to the smug grin, slaughtering a tiny piece of her pride. As he sauntered away she got a lovely view of his arse, hugged close in worn-out denim. Hermione bit back a girlish sigh and entered the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, she was treated to a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast and coffee. Twenty minutes after that they were out of the hut and heading for a trail that led into the nearby forest.
"Now, I think it's time I hear all about the reason for this mystery visit." The pine needles crunched quietly beneath their feet, the fresh air crisp and scented of evergreen.
"I think you know of my work, Charlie, what I've been trying to accomplish?" she asked as they passed a line of trees into the forest.
"Sure, but what has that got to do with me?" The tall pines blocked out the sun, bathing the woods in soft shade.
"I made my final presentation, but Umbridge threw in a last requirement. I have to produce testimony in order for my proposals to go to vote. You can do that for me, can't you?" The stillness of the forest closed in around them as the trail narrowed.
"Yes, I do that all the time for Dad," said Charlie, watching the path ahead, "I would have done the same for you, and I think you know that. You've come for something more."
Hermione paused her steps. Charlie was a bit more direct than she was used to. If he realized that he was lacking in the area of social niceties he gave no indication in his expression or demeanor. She could understand that though. He was a man who spent all of his time in the company of dragons and other men in wild and unforgiving country. It struck her as a refreshing change from talking in circles and deciphering meaning in the vague hints and clues that were standard fare for someone so closely linked to the Wizengamot as she. "Yes, I have come for more, Charlie. I want you to speak to the court in person."
"What? Why?" Charlie turned sharply to look at her directly. "Why is that necessary?"
"Charlie," she said earnestly, "I've spent my whole career working for this, and I am so close. I've got Hagrid, but..."
"Right, half-giant, won't go over so well." Charlie sighed and ran a hand through his long red hair. "I don't know, Hermione, makes me nervous thinking about getting up in front of those old codgers." Charlie ground the toe of his boot into the path.
"What's this? Charlie Weasley, big bad dragon tamer is afraid of a few old men?" Hermione smirked with a hand on her hip.
Charlie chuckled, taking her tease in good nature. A little tightness he had been holding in his shoulders sloughed off, and an easy grin quirked at the corners of his mouth. "Say, tell me something of home. How are things between you and my brother? Everything going alright there?" he asked, getting more personal than she was really prepared for.
"What?" Hermione blinked a few times in surprise, his complete non-sequitur throwing her off guard.
"Never mind, forget I said anything." He turned his back to her and started walking again. The infamous Weasley flush crawl up his neck, and that tightness resettled through his shoulders. Clearly, Charlie had lost some of his finer social skills out here. His question was more than just a matter of directness, it was really quite awkward. "Who else do you have going before the Wizengamot?" he added quickly, probably hoping to get past his faux pas.
"Firenze," she said, feeling a bit turned around as he caught her off guard once again with how quickly he changed directions in a conversation. "If I can get him, though, that isn't without its complications."
"Why is that?" he queried, intoning genuine puzzlement.
"Oh, come on, Charlie. You know very well that most wizards have never laid eyes on a living, breathing centaur. Their opinions are handed down from years of institutionalized discrimination."
Charlie chuckled. "Well, good luck getting him to go before the Ministry, but I can tell you right now you've got it all wrong."
"What do I have wrong?" Hermione frowned. She had thought this through very carefully.
"Well, not all wrong," he amended. "You're right that most of them have never met a live centaur."
"So what have I got wrong, then?" The hand was back on her hip, though not a playful tease this time. What was there to consider besides the backward mentality heralding from the Dark Ages that seemed to inhabit the brains of most of those on the court?
Charlie was laughing again. "Wow, you really don't like it when someone disagrees with you, do you?" They had drifted a bit apart, with Charlie a few paces ahead of her. He turned, and took a step in her direction.
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but found she couldn't refute what he was saying. It was true, she knew it was. She was famous for it. She took a position and clung to it for dear life, like in sixth year when Harry suspected Draco of being a Death Eater. Harry had been right, and a high price had almost been paid because only one person had taken him seriously. Not Ron, not Remus, and not herself; only Sirius had listened, and it was due to his persistent inquiries that Dumbledore had lived long enough to see the end of the war. Harry would only argue his side of things, never confront her over her obstinacy.
Charlie had just turned the tables on her, and he had done it as easy as breathing. Only one other person had ever challenged her about this trait, using it to tease her and wheedle his way under her skin until she was ready to kill him, or possibly shag him; maybe both. Hermione blinked, wondering where that had come from.
Charlie took another step closer, breaking her thought process. Hermione felt her mouth go dry. She was attracted to him, and clearly he was attracted to her as well. But this was Charlie! Percy's brother! Hermione took a step back, if there was a line she wouldn't cross, this was surely it.
Charlie shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "I'm not... I wouldn't, not to one of my brothers or... I just... I guess I don't get it. He's not the one everybody thought you'd end up with, you know? You two are so much alike; don't you get bored?"
Hermione was very uncomfortable with Charlie directly asking her the very question she had been circling around for months. She and Percy made sense, and Ron was very old news. So what if Percy was a little predictable? Another word for that was reliable.
"That's none of your business, Charlie," she said, her voice low. "Now- now what did you mean when you said that I had it wrong?"
"Right." Charlie nodded. "Sorry, Hermione." He gestured to the path, a suggestion that they continue walking. "What I meant was that because most wizards have never met a live centaur, that can work in your favor."
"How so?" Hermione looked ahead down the path and could an opening a little way ahead.
"I know Firenze," he replied. "Can you imagine it? Seeing a centaur speak as eloquently as Firenze, when most of them have never heard one speak at all? It'll surprise many of them, most of them actually."
"It is still a risky move, though, Charlie." Hermione frowned. "In fact most of my moves are risky. I've written to Remus as well, and I'm certain he'll agree. I can't think of anyone who can speak as well as he, but that won't stop them from holding his being a werewolf against him."
Charlie took a deep breath, his brow furrowed. Just ahead the canopy-darkened path was bathed in light. Charlie put his hand on her shoulder and raised a finger to his lips.
"It's perfectly safe," he whispered, "but there is no sense in alerting her to our presence."
"Alerting who?" she whispered back, but took his cue and minded her steps, taking care not to crack a twig.
"Her." Charlie dropped the hand from her shoulder to just in front of her, halting her steps just inside the line of trees and directing her to crouch down. With his other hand he pointed to something beyond their position. Hermione's gaze followed and then she quietly gasped.
Between them and the object of his interest was another high, wrought-iron fence, fortified by a slight shimmer which she assumed to be very powerful wards. Nestled into a craggy cliff a good five hundred meters away was a dragon breathing fire on a clutch of eggs. Her green scales glistened in the morning light, the deep emerald breaking out into bright prismatic flashes. Each egg was heated to a dull orange glow, which got retouched as the heat dissipated.
"Oh, Charlie," breathed Hermione. "She's gorgeous."
He nodded with a small, proud smile.
"These mothers are tireless. She won't get much sleep until they’re ready to hatch. Once they do she'll go feed and the father will take over for a while."
"Do they ever work together?"
"Oh, yeah. Once there is too much work feeding a hungry brood they'll have to. But dragons are fairly solitary, and even mated pairs don't always get along so well. It takes a common effort to force them together, and to get along. Even then, it's mostly that they're just too tired to quibble."
Hermione chuckled a little. "Not much for romance, then?"
"Not really, no," said Charlie, smiling. He started to rise, turning back along the path as he did. As she rose to follow, something in her jacket pocket prodded sharply.
"Oh!" It was the picture Nico had given her. "Here, this is yours."
Charlie took it from her with a small frown. "You keep it," he said, handing it back.
"But it's yours," she protested. The reminder that she and Sirius had once been friends wasn't a comfortable one. Though he could at times be infuriating, she missed his unique companionship. Her feelings for him were complicated and deep, and it hurt more than she cared to remember that they were no longer close. At least she had never allowed for the folly of believing he could return her interest.
"I know, but I want you to have it," he said. He went quiet for a moment as a look of heavy concentration fell over him. He took a deep breath, scratched at his neck, and then gave her a cautious smile. "You know, you and Sirius used to get along. From what I hear from my sister and dad, that isn't the case any longer."
"Sirius doesn't approve of my dating choices," she said sharply. “Which is really none of his business, and also rather rude. It makes Percy very uncomfortable."
"I'll bet it does," said Charlie under his breath, but she heard it all the same. She jerked her head to catch his expression, but his eyes were focused on some point down the path. "During the war, before his name was cleared, Sirius worked closely with me outside of Britain's borders."
"Yes, I remember hearing him talk about that," she said stiffly.
"We got to be friend. We still are." The stillness of the forest settled around them once again, forcing their voices down.
"Well, I can see how that would happen," she said, wondering where in the hell he was going with this. "Are you trying to tell me something, Charlie? Because I really don't know why we're talking about Sirius. He and I used to be friends, then I started dating Percy and suddenly we weren't friends any longer."
"And you never asked yourself why that is?"
"I know why. Sirius thought Percy was a prat for believing the Ministry over his parents, and Sirius is petty enough to hold a grudge. Never mind that he left his own family for ideological reasons. Percy may have been on the wrong side, but you would think if there was one person who could understand, it would be Sirius."
"That's what you think?" he exclaimed sharply. "Hermione, that is not what Sirius' problem with Percy is about."
"What else could it be?" she asked, and then added. "And I still don't know why we're talking about Sirius and his problems with me."
"That picture you're holding is why," said Charlie. "You know, I get what happened with you and Percy."
"I feel like I need a flow chart to keep up with your trains of thought," said Hermione. "How does one thing relate to another? Are you going somewhere with all of this?"
"Hell, I don't know," said Charlie quietly. He studied his boots for a moment. "It's none of my business, really. Not even sure why I opened my mouth in the first place."
"What did you mean," began Hermione, not sure herself why she was inviting this invasion into her private life, "when you said you get what happened with Percy and me?"
"I just think... I just think that what felt right didn't make sense to you, so you latched onto the first bloke who made perfect sense. But how fair is that really to Percy?"
"What felt right?" she asked. "I don't even know what you mean by that." Hermione sighed unhappily. "Look, we're not unhappy, Charlie, but you're right. Quite frankly, I don't know how you see all of this from Romania, but you're right. And it isn't fair to either of us."
"Don't you deserve more? Doesn't Percy?"
Hermione dropped her eyes.
"Just think about it, Hermione. Think about Percy. You're a good woman; I just think you've made the wrong choice for all the right reasons."
"Actually, I've been mulling it over for some time now. We're comfortable, but-"
"Yeah," said Charlie. "Too much alike is the problem. You both need someone to shake your world up a little, make things interesting, and make you laugh once in awhile."
They walked along the path together in companionable silence. She still had no idea why he'd brought up Sirius, but she didn't really want to talk about him anymore than necessary. He had been a special friend that left a hole in her heart. Even if leaving Percy would bring him back to her as a friend, she wasn't sure she wanted a friend as fickle as that.
"I'll do it," said Charlie.
Hermione cocked her head curiously. "Hmm?"
"I'll do it. I'll come speak for you," he explained.
"Oh, Charlie, thank you," she said sincerely.
"I don't actually mind that much and you just reminded that it had been awhile since I'd seen some old friends."
On to Part 2