Charlie needed somewhere to stay whilst he sorted out this business at the Welsh reserve and he couldn't face going back to the Burrow. He'd end up with a stomach ulcer if he spent too long with his mother. He loved her but still.... Charlie tapped his teeth in thought and pushed his glasses up his nose. A brain wave hit him. Hadn't Hermione got her own flat now?

Dear Hermione,

I know this is a bit strange coming out of the blue but have you got floor space for a couple of nights? I have some business to do at the Welsh reserve next week and I don't think I could cope going home. Please? Trans-continental Apparition always takes it out of me.

Charlie

A few days later, Hermione was curled up reading in the armchair by the window when a very wet-looking owl indeed began to tap furiously upon the windowpane. Setting down the huge tome she'd been studying, Hermione heaved with all her might to lift the sash and let in the owl, who deposited the letter on the armchair and then flew swiftly to Hermione's unfinished dinner, still sitting on the table.

She was surprised to see the letter--note, really--came from Charlie Weasley. She and Charlie had never been particularly close in the past; he was six years older than she was, and one of Ron's many big brothers...the one always away with his dragons. It wasn't until George's funeral that they properly met, as adults, and.... Hermione shook her head fervently. Better not to think about that. Grabbing a piece of parchment, she quickly wrote a reply, and handed it to the owl, who looked only slightly replenished and not at all willing to face the rain again.

"Sorry," she said, as she gave him a firm push outside. "But he'll want a quick answer."

Charlie,

It'd be my pleasure. That is, if you don't mind having to kip on the sofa; my flat's not all that big. Oh, and if you don't mind Crookshanks, as he thinks the sofa belongs to him!
Your owl looks an absolute mess, by the way...must be from living so close to all those menacing dragons! Spare him the next trip, shall you, and Floo me? We can chat then.
Looking forward to seeing you....how long has it been?

Cheers,
Hermione

Charlie laughed as he read the note when it arrived. Hermione sounded exactly the same - sweet but a little uptight.

The owl looked at him with disgust before disappearing back to the Owlery. He looked round and sent one of his fairies after him to check he was all right. Charlie squinted at his watch and tried to figure out whether it was too late to Floo someone. He decided it was for those who didn't keep as irregular hours as dragon handlers did and decided to wait until the next day.

The following afternoon, Charlie grabbed a sandwich and headed to the nearest Floo. He took a pinch of Floo powder and sprinkled into the fire. "Hermione Granger," he said clearly.

He flicked his hair out of his eyes when he saw her flat. "Hello?"

"Hello?" warbled a female voice somewhere to the left. Charlie's eyes darted in that direction; Hermione was standing opposite the fireplace, wrapped in a pink-and-white polka-dotted towel, hair a mess of wet curls from the shower, cheeks flushed from the heat of the warm water and steam. And as she stood there under Charlie's gaze, she could feel her face turning even redder with embarrassment.

Charlie's ears turned slightly pink as he said with his mouth full, "Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"Er, just a little bit," Hermione managed to reply, her cheeks scorching. "If you'll just give me one minute..." she murmured after an awkward moment, and she tiptoed crimson-faced to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. That was the disadvantage to her flat: everything was right out in the open, and of course the grand fireplace had full view of everything going on in the whole place!

Stop working yourself up and get dressed! Hermione chided herself. She threw on a pair of jeans and a cable-knit jumper as quickly as possible, and then emerged from the bedroom still rosy-cheeked but feeling a good deal less exposed. She drew a stool from the kitchen area over in front of the fireplace, and said, as casually as she could manage (which was not very casually), "So. How have things been, Charlie?"

Charlie managed to swallow his mouthful and half shrugged. "Absolute mayhem. The Welsh reserve is just about managing, which is why they need an extra pair of hands who knows the reserve and most of the dragons."

"Ah," said Hermione. "I'm sorry to hear that." And she was. The idea of a dragon reserve with their dragons running amok was not a particularly pleasant one.

Charlie pulled a face and then took another bite of his sandwich. "Nothing we can't cope with. They're just a little short staffed at the moment. Bad case of the dragon pox going round. I've had it." He gave her a tiny smile and added, "I see you're as pretty as ever."

Hermione ducked her head and smiled, embarrassed all over again. "Oh, please," she laughed. "I look absolutely dreadful right now! My hair is a mess, and..." She paused, and cracked a genuine grin, meeting Charlie's eyes for the first time since he appeared in the fireplace. She'd forgotten what a startling shade of blue they were; she could feel her telltale blush returning, and distracted herself immediately by changing the subject.

"In any case, thank you for that terrible flattery, but I know it's not true. Now, shall we get down to business? I'm sure I have my calendar around here somewhere..." Hermione sat taller on the stool and craned her neck to see if the little daybook with every appointment, meeting and event carefully penciled in was floating around somewhere nearby.

Charlie snorted with laughter. "As if you didn't know exactly where it was. I don't even think I own a diary."

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" Hermione teased. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the dog-eared brown book on the kitchen counter, and with a wave of her wand, summoned it to her side. Flipping through the pages until she found the current date, Hermione stuck her tongue between her teeth and made a little face. "So, when did you say you were coming?" Furrowing her brow, she laughed and added, "Did you even say at all?"

Charlie stuck his tongue out at her. "Yeah I did. Next week." He said dryly, "I take it in the real world that's not specific enough." He wrinkled his nose in thought. "I think I start on Monday so I'll probably arrive Sunday night and stay a week. Maybe ten days? Is that all right?"

"That's perfect," said Hermione, as she carefully wrote Charlie coming to stay on Sunday night, and then flipped over a week, and then ten days, adding Charlie leaves with little question marks, just in case. When she had finished writing everything down tidily, she looked up and met Charlie's gaze again; this time she held it as she forced herself to say, honestly, "It's been a long time. I'm looking forward to seeing you again...in person, I mean."

Charlie finished his sandwich before speaking. "You never did take me up on the offer to come and stay for a holiday." He managed to keep his voice light as he watched her carefully for her reaction.

Hermione's mouth dropped open a little as she considered what he'd said; certainly, he'd made the offer, but it had been spur-of-the-moment, totally unexpected and then abandoned as swiftly as he'd brought it up. She hadn't realized at all that he meant it seriously; now she merely stared, confused.

"Something I said? Or is it just because I smell?" he continued, turning it into a joke.

"Oh, no--I mean, odors can't be transmitted over Floo communication, anyway," Hermione said, a tinge of the bossy know-it-all returning to her voice. "I was just thinking...about that holiday...I was so terribly busy, you know, with...with everything," she finished feebly, well-aware that working part-time at Flourish and Blotts and studying maniacally on the side hardly counted as inescapable time commitments.

Charlie broke the tension. "You can't have been studying all of the time. Everyone needs a holiday, otherwise you'll end up having a nervous breakdown." He smiled at her. "How about we have some honest fun while I'm over there? Clothes on, if that's what you want."

Hermione shook her head at his last comment. "I swear, you flirt as naturally as you breathe. Of course I'm up for some fun when you come to visit! And naturally of the clothes-on variety, thank you very much. Honestly."

Charlie shifted and managed to put his hand through the fire. "Go on. Smack my wrist. I'm sure I deserved it."

Giggling, Hermione reached out and tapped his wrist lightly, her skin sizzling slightly from the exposure to the Floo-protected fire.

"As for my imminent nervous breakdown," Hermione mused, pulling back and settling back on the stool, "you'll just have to try and postpone that with your visit. We can treat it as sort of a holiday, can't we? And that ought to save me from myself for a little while, hmmm?"

He chewed his lip for a moment. "Well it'll have to do for the moment. Not everything can be found in books. You need to live life as well."

"I do live life!" Hermione cried indignantly, but Charlie had already interrupted her with a cheeky smile, and quipped, "And with that moral message, I think I need to run, as Maggie is decidedly not happy at the moment. See you on Sunday, sugar."

"See you..." Hermione managed to trail off, before he had winked at her and disappeared back to the reserve. The Floo fire died quickly, leaving a pile of sooty green embers in the grate. With a sigh, Hermione stood and pushed the stool back into the kitchen, her mind churning. She hadn't seen Charlie for years, now, and while when she'd received his letter a visit had seemed like a good idea, now she wasn't so sure. He was impatient and messy and could be so arrogant and charming at the same time, and called her stupid things, and he was six years older than her, for Merlin's sakes, but he always acted as though it were the other way around! He made her feel both silly and young and old and prissy at the same time. And those blue eyes he used to charm everybody! She was not going to fall for his tricks and traps when he visited! She'd seen him work his magic on his mum, but it was not going to happen to her!

With that final, confident thought, Hermione padded back to the bathroom, where the steam was still clinging to the mirrors like clouds. She reached for her hairbrush and began to work on untangling her curls; she'd have to take out her frustration somehow!

Charlie was not as prone to over-thinking as Hermione was. Back at the reserve, he merely reflected to himself that this was going to make things interesting, indeed