CHAPTER SEVEN:

(A/N: random, but do you guys actually take a look at the fanarts above? just curious lol)

Third Person P.O.V.:

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more — Christmas was approaching fast.

Hagrid had already singlehandedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees to the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors.

Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Charlie went past, which caused blockages in the corridors; fortunately, however, Charlie's frequent nighttime wanderings had given him an unusually good knowledge of the castle's secret passageways, so that he was often, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes.

It had been over a week since the events of the Quidditch match, and Charlie had developed a tendency to lock himself away in his dorm, feigning sickness. On the rare occasion where Harry dragged him from Gryffindor Tower, Charlie would try and avoid Hermione at all costs, only running into her when it was seemingly unavoidable and even then their interactions were very minimal.

Charlie's hands and forearms still bore scratches and cuts from Hermione's bird attack, acting as an unpleasant, and constant, reminder of all that he had lost. Elaina and Harry were relentless in their attempt to abolish their friend's sorrow, but everywhere Charlie seemed to go, an air of melancholy seemed to surround him.

Ron, who had yet to apologize for locking lips with Hermione in front of Charlie, simply carried about his newfound life of popularity. The ginger's newest adaptation of character traits was one of the utmost arrogance, and Charlie found himself cold-shouldering Ron whenever the two crossed paths; naturally, Harry and Elaina understood this and failed in their attempt to pardon Ron for his wrongdoings as well.

Luckily for Charlie, he wasn't forced to endure the heartache of seeing Ron and Hermione together, for he had found himself once more as the best friend of two people who seemed unlikely ever to speak to each other again. Harry would attest to the obvious tension between Ron and Hermione, but would never divulge to Charlie the reason.

And so, Charlie Hawthorne had concluded himself as a walking poster child for heartbreak and suffering; the woman he loved had been in the arms of another and, if that wasn't enough, his Dark Mark had begun to pulsate with unbearable pain more frequently than ever before.

The difference, however, was that Charlie wasn't forced to suffer alone anymore, for he now had two people by his side that he knew he could always count on for support; Harry Potter and Elaina Dumont.

"What'd do you reckon Voldemort wants?" Harry had asked Charlie, referring to the Dark Lord, as they sat in the Great Hall one morning with Elaina."Do you think Malfoy suffers the same pain you do?"

Charlie did not answer, pretending to be absorbed in the book, 'Quintessence: A Quest', which they were supposed to have read before Charms. Determined as he was to share his life as a Death Eater with Harry and Elaina, he was spending a lot of time with his mouth shut tight.

"What's going to happen if you don't go to him?" inquired Elaina, looking slightly worried. "Did your father ever tell you about what the consequences might be for disobeying You-Know-Who?"

Charlie had turned a page of Quintessence, aware that both Elaina and Harry were watching him.

"No," he answered at last, much to his reluctance to speak on the topic, "but I doubt any consequence issued by the Dark Lord would be considered merciless."

"So," Harry whispered, being mindful of eavesdropping spectators, "what are you going to do?"

"What else can I do?" Charlie asked rhetorically, slumping in his chair. "There's no other option for me. Besides, a few minutes of agony is worth not having to succumb to a lifetime of doing the Dark Lord's bidding."

"Have you tried magical painkillers?" Elaina suggested, sipping on her pumpkin juice. "Or anything that might subdue the pain?"

"I'm going to go to the library this afternoon," sighed Charlie, peering over his book. "Hopefully I can find something that might be able to help."

Elaina and Harry shared a worried, but discrete, look, hoping not to raise the suspicions of their devastated friend. Catching on immediately, however, Charlie raised a curious brow, urging his friends subconsciously to share their thoughts.

"The library?" said Elaina, coming to a tentative conclusion. "Are you sure about that?"

Charlie blinked, his eyebrows knitted, "Yes, why?"

"Well, uh," stammered Harry nervously, his eyes awkwardly transfixed on the book in Charlie's hands, "in case you haven't noticed, Hermione's been spending a lot of her time in the library as of late."

Charlie gulped uneasily at the mention of Hermione's name; Harry and Elaina had caught on to his sudden reluctance. Not wanting to give them the satisfaction of affirming their suspicions, however, Charlie shrugged his shoulders convincingly.

"And your point is?" he asked, seemingly unbothered, but that was far from the truth. "It's not like I can avoid her for the rest of my life."

"Imagine how much easier life would be if that were the case," hummed Elaina, smirking mischievously. With a warning look from Harry, she perked up and added, "Actually, I've been meaning to go to the library, so count me in! Just don't act surprised if you hear the crunching of bones followed by a shriek of fear."

(A/N: I have an obsession with this gif...)

Charlie's eyes widened to the point where they were almost bulging out of their sockets. He whipped his head around to the French transfer student, and Elaina had shrugged at him, grinning from ear to ear like a child unaware of their wrongdoing.

"Maybe it'd be better if just Charlie and I went," suggested Harry carefully, stifling a laugh.

Elaina pouted, "Aw, but that's no fun!"

The two Gryffindor boys shared an amused shake of the head, causing an uproar of laughter between the three of them.

And so, after a long day of classes, Charlie and Harry had said their goodbyes to a displeased Elaina, heading in the direction of the library before the sun began to set.

The two of them entered the multi-level library and were immediately greeted with the eerie silence, despite the amount of students crammed around the room. In order to match the atmosphere, Charlie and Harry's conversation was forced to be held in tone-deaf whispers.

"Any idea what we might be looking for?" asked Harry, while the librarian, Madame Pince, prowled the shelves behind them.

Charlie shook his head as they walked, muttering, "No, but I'll know it when I..."

He trailed off. Charlie and Harry had wandered towards the section of the library that was lined with couches and desks, enriched in warmth from fire that was radiating light in the corner of the room. There was a rush of vulgar memories that brought a mischievous smirk to Charlie's lips, but he quickly faltered when he caught sight of Hermione, who was conveniently sitting at the desk in which her and Charlie had once —

"Hey, 'Mione," greeted Harry, evidently trying to diffuse the tension before it had even arose in the air.

Hermione looked up from the parchment she was working on, her quill clutched firmly in her right hand. As her eyes focused upon the two boys, she visibly tensed, her bottom lip anxiously finding its way between her teeth.

"Hi, Harry," she responded nervously, shifting her eyes between the two boys. "Charlie," she added in a breathless whisper.

Her doe eyes raked Charlie for a moment, evidently taking notice of the scratches carved into his hands. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into his golden brown eyes, trying to read what laid beneath them.

Charlie's heart quickened under her gaze, despite his constant attempt to remind himself that he was meant to be mad at her. He bit his tongue to keep from cracking a smile — his confidence broke immediately, his head was pounding, and he felt as though he was going to faint.

He hadn't expected that after six years, Hermione was still capable of making his heart beat out of his chest. Even when they were dating, Charlie always had a difficult time staying mad at her, for the simplest of gestures would make him practically beg at her feet.

And now, as she sat with her bottom lip between her teeth and her caramel curls pinned back to perfectly accentuate her features, Charlie had difficulty breathing.

'She's done this on purpose,' he thought, eyeing her up and down. 'The slippery little minx, she's purposely sat in the place that we... oh, Merlin.'

"Hello," he managed at last, suppressing his thoughts through prideful reminder. He gave her a small nod before he excused himself, disappearing into the Research Section of the library.

Harry gaped at Charlie's guiltless action of leaving him amongst the silence, which now hung in thick tension-filled air. He glanced over to Hermione: she raised her quill and dotted an 'i' so ferociously that she punctured a hole in her parchment.

And yet, Harry said nothing. He thought his voice might soon vanish from the lack of use. Instead, he willed himself to take a seat opposite Hermione, opening his book bag to take out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

In complete disregard of Hermione's curious eyes upon him, Harry picked up a quill and continued to make notes on Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to decipher the Prince's useful additions to Libatius Borage's text.

"Can I ask you something, Harry?" asked Hermione in a low whisper, after a few moments. Harry looked up instantly, unnerved by the look in her eyes.

"Well, that depends," he said, looking up with a curious brow raised. "If it has anything to do with my Potions textbook, then no. I already told you I'm not giving back this book. I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in —"

"I'm not talking about your stupid so-called Prince," dismissed Hermione, giving his book a nasty look as though it had been rude to her. With a heavy sigh, she glanced around, before whispering, "It's about Charlie."

Harry blinked, gulping anxiously, "Hermione, if you're wondering how he is after everything, I honestly suggest you talk to him yourse—"

"I'm not talking about that either," Hermione interrupted stubbornly, glancing over to where Charlie had disappeared. "I'm mad at him, Harry, in case that wasn't obvious... but, I need you to tell me if you've seen him around Romilda Vane recently."

"Seriously 'Mione?" sighed Harry, dumbfounded that she thought it was appropriate to even ask such a question. "You're honestly bloody confusing, you know? If you're so mad at him, why do you care who he hangs around with?"

"I don't care who he hangs around with," rebutted Hermione, her cheeks reddening. "He's at perfect liberty to do whatever he likes, I really couldn't care less!"

Harry stifled a laugh, "Yeah, well, you have a funny way of showing it."

Hermione faltered, heaving a heavy sigh, "You know what? Forget I asked!"

With a frantic shake of her head, she focused back on her parchment. Her mind was clearly too occupied, however, as she nearly knocked over her bottle of quill ink in a fit of pique. Harry gaped at her, amazed at her inability to admit the most obvious of truths, but when he went to open his mouth to question her further, someone else beat him to it.

"She doesn't care at all, Harry, couldn't you tell?" announced Charlie sarcastically, returning to the table with a book in his hand; Hermione jumped, startled by close proximity in which he appeared.

Charlie moved around the table and took a seat next to Harry, opening his book, as a ghost of a smirk grazed his lips. He could feel Hermione's gaze upon him, watching him as he flipped the pages, but he didn't say anything for a moment, letting her wait in anticipation.

"So," he began after a few minutes, putting his book down to challenge her with his eyes, "is there any point in asking about your sudden interest in Romilda Vane? Or should we just sum it up to unnecessary jealousy?"

"Meaning, you have spoken with her," interrogated Hermione, choosing to ignore the second question. "What'd she say? Has she given you anything?"

"Contrary to your belief, I don't fancy wasting my time on Romilda Vane," huffed Charlie, moving his head back towards his book, skimming the pages.

"What's with the curiosity anyway?" inquired Harry, intervening between anything got out of hand. Stifling a laugh, he added, "I figured she'd be one of the last people to be on your mind."

"And she is," nodded Hermione, using her tone to try and sound convincing. "I've just heard things, that's all..."

"What do you mean?" questioned Charlie, glancing back up with a look of intrigue. Hermione shifted her eyes back towards him, hesitating as she wondered if it were worth divulging the truth.

Apparently it was, for after a moments hesitation, she said, "I went into the girls' bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping for you invite one of them to Slughorn's party. They all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work —"

"Why didn't you confiscate them then?" demanded Charlie; it seemed extraordinary that Hermione's mania for upholding the rules could have abandoned her at this crucial juncture. "You're a bloody Prefect, aren't you?"

"Believe me, I would've," groaned Hermione scornfully. "But they didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom. They were just discussing tactics."

"Bloody hell, mate," sniggered Harry, nudging Charlie on the shoulder. "Might be time to invite someone to go with you, hopefully that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," mumbled Charlie, who was still trying not to think about Hermione asking Ron, despite the fact that the memory kept popping up in his head more often than he cared to admit.

"There isn't?" asked Hermione, her eyebrows furrowed, although there was no denying the hopeful gleam in her eye. "The other day you seemed so certai—"

"Well, things have changed since then, haven't they?" growled Charlie, burying his face back into his textbook. "Hell, at this point, maybe I should just drink a bloody love potion... it'll probably make my life a whole lot easier."

"That's not funny," said Hermione in a low voice, hoping that no one had heard her. "Romilda Vane looked like she meant business."

She hitched up the long roll of parchment, on which she was writing her Arithmancy essay, and continued to scratch away with her quill. Charlie admired her, peering over his book every few seconds.

"Who are you asking to Slughorn's party, mate?" Charlie asked Harry, trying to force his gaze off of Hermione. "I never did get the chance to ask."

"Dunno," shrugged Harry, looking slightly defeated. "I mean, I know who I'd like to go with, but she's got a boyfriend... so naturally, my chances are very slim."

Hermione's ears perked up at this newfound revelation, glancing at Harry curiously.

"She has a boyfriend, you say?" she repeated, evident interest in her voice. "God, please don't tell me you're talking about Elaina Dumont."

"And what if I am?" said Harry, coming to the defence of his feelings.

"Oh, honestly, Harry," groaned Hermione, shaking her head. "You can't be serious."

"Don't listen to her, mate," Charlie encouraged Harry, smiling lightheartedly. "Forget about Nott, Elaina's clearly interested in you."

Hermione scoffed, "She's only interested in you because she thinks you're the 'Chosen One'."

"But I am the Chosen One," shrugged Harry, and him and Charlie began to roar with laughter.

Hermione cocked her head at them, clearly exasperated. Picking up one of her heavy course textbooks, she leaned over the table and smacked them both on the top of the head.

"Oi!" gasped Charlie, rubbing his head in disbelief. "What the bloody hell did I do?"

"You're encouraging him!" said Hermione, narrowing her eyes in Charlie's direction.

"Okay, I was kidding," sighed Harry, although he was still grinning cheekily from ear to ear. "Don't worry, I'll ask someone else — someone cool."

"You boys, I swear," muttered Hermione under her breath, returning to her schoolwork. The two boys shared a suggestive look before succumbing to the silence once again; Charlie turned another page.

"Hang on a moment," Harry said slowly, a few minutes later, clearly raking his brain. "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?" asked Hermione, still concentrating on her essay.

"But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into the school?"

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," explained Hermione, shrugging. "It's part of their Owl Order Service."

Charlie laughed, "You seem to know a lot about it."

Hermione gave him the kind of nasty look she had just given Harry's copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

"It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and I in the summer," she hissed icily, but her cheeks began to blush. "Besides, I don't need a love potion to win over a boy's affections and you, of all people, should know that."

Charlie blinked and his mouth fell agape at her words. The bluntness in her voice whenever she was talking about their relationship always did amaze him, especially when she was so willing to bring it up in front of other people.

"Right," muttered Harry, uncomfortably moving on. "Anyway, the point is, Filch is being fooled isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school — ?"

"Oh, Harry... not that again..."

"Come on, why not?" demanded Harry, looking between his two friends. "We already know he's a Death Eater... and just because Charlie's chosen not to do Voldemort's bidding, doesn't mean that Malfoy is innocent!"

"Look," sighed Hermione, "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find dark magic and dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one in the necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register — and anyway love potions aren't dark or dangerous —"

"Easy for you to say," muttered Charlie, recoiling at the thought of Romilda Vane.

"— so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn't a cough potion, and he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from —"

Hermione stopped dead; Charlie and Harry had heard it too. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited, and a moment later, the vulture-like countenance of Madame Pince appeared around the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment, and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying.

"The library is now closed," she informed them, "Please return anything you have borrowed to the correct — what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?"

"It isn't the library's, it's mine!" said Harry hastily, snatching his copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the table as she lunged at it with a clawlike hand.

"Despoiled!" she hissed. "Desecrated, befouled!"

"It's just a book that's been written on!" muttered Harry, tugging it out of her grip.

Pince looked as though she might have a seizure; Hermione and Charlie, who had hastily packed their things, each grabbed Harry by the arm and frogmarched him away.

"She'll ban you from the library if you're not careful," scolded Hermione, once they were well out of ear shot from the grumpy librarian. "Why did you have to bring that stupid book?"

"It's not my fault she's barking mad, Hermione," groaned Harry, pulling his arm from her grasp.

"D'you think she overheard you being rude about Filch?" Charlie asked Hermione with a cheeky grin. "I've always thought there might be something between them..."

"Oh, ha ha.."

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted lamp-lit corridor back to the common room, arguing whether or not Filch and Madame Pince were secretly in love with each other.

"Baubles," called Harry to the Fat Lady, this being the new, festive password.

"Same to you," said the fat lady with a roguish grin, and she swung forward to admit them.

"Hi, Charlie!" greeted Romilda Vane, the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. "Fancy a Gillywater?"

Hermione gave him a "what-did-I-tell-you?" look over her shoulder.

"No thanks," denied Charlie quickly, looking a bit taken aback. "I don't like it much."

"Well, take these anyway," said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewhiskey in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them."

"Oh, right, thanks a lot," muttered Charlie, who could not think what else to say. "Uh...I'm just going over here with..."

He hurried after Harry and Hermione, his voice tailing away feebly. Charlie gave Harry a smack on the back of the head, for his best friend had been laughing at the interaction in the near distance.

"I told you," whispered Hermione succinctly, sitting down in her favourite armchair beside the fire. "Promise me you won't eat those."

"I was planning on chucking them in the bin once I got to my dorm," shrugged Charlie, collapsing on the common room couch next to Harry. He reopened his things, pulling out the same book that had been clutched in his hands in the library.

"What exactly are you trying to find in there?" inquired Hermione, glancing at him skeptically. "I haven't seen you that interested in a book since 'Romeo & Juliet'..."

Hermione trailed off, heat arising in her cheeks before she could stop herself, as she reminisced on the book that she had gifted Charlie for his thirteenth birthday —

"I'm looking for a pain nullifying charm," Charlie muttered mindlessly, for his memory of simpler times had taken over importance in his head.

"A pain nullifying charm?" repeated Hermione, looking incredibly worried all of a sudden. "What? Why? Are you okay?"

"Quite an ironic question coming from the girl who hurled a flock of birds at my head," said Charlie, giving her a suggestive look; Hermione frowned, bowing her head in shame.

"I'm sor—"

But Ron had come stumbling into the common room at that precise moment, silencing any attempt at conversation and diluting Charlie, Harry, and Hermione's conversation into nothing but uneasy looks.

"Oh, hey guys," waved Ron, shifting nervously on his feet. "How is everyone?"

"I think I'm gonna tuck in for the night," muttered Charlie hastily, though it was only seven o'clock in the evening, but he got up and headed towards the boys' dormitory without another word.

And so, Charlie went to bed comforting himself with the fact that there was only one more day of lessons to struggle through, plus Slughorn's party, after which he would reside at Hogwarts for the holidays. It was Charlie's decision to not accept Ron's annual invitation to visit the Burrow over the break, insisting on not ruining the Weasley's celebrations over his current issues with Ron.

To Charlie's dismay, however, the Transfiguration lesson the next day was a complete disaster.

They had just embarked upon the immensely difficult topic of human transfiguration; working in front of mirrors, they were supposed to be changing the colour of their own eyebrows. Charlie got pretty skilled with his nonverbal incantations, succeeding in turning all the hair on his body a vibrant blue colour, then a vivid red, and back again.

After spending the summer of his fifth year locked away in number twelve Grimmauld Place, Charlie had developed many flamboyant tricks from Nymphadora Tonks, resulting in easy development of any charms related to changing one's physical appearance.

Things took an horrific turn, however, when Hermione laughed unkindly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar moustache. In true Weasley fashion, Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing, but Hermione was reduced to the verge of tears.

When the bell rang, she raced out of the classroom, leaving half her things behind.

"What did you have to imitate her for?" Harry demanded of Ron, who was seemingly unbothered as he packed his things.

"It's not my fault she can't take a joke," Ron scoffed, piling his books into his backpack aggressively. "Besides, in case you forgot, she laughed at my moustache!"

"So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen," hissed Charlie, rolling his eyes.

Despite his grudge against Hermione, Charlie couldn't help but feel bad. So, in retaliation, he hid an incantation in a cough, making sure Ron regretted what he had done. Within an instant, nose hair had sprouted from the ginger's nose, perfectly accenting the moustache that Ron had failed to remove.

"What have you done?" shrieked Ron, holding his nose as if it had begun to bleed uncontrollably.

"Nothing you didn't deserve, I assure you," growled Charlie, and before he let his anger get the best of him, he scooped up Hermione's left-behind possessions and hurried after her; Harry following quickly in his wake, stifling a laugh.

They finally tracked Hermione down as she emerged from a girl's bathroom on the floor below. She was accompanied by Luna Lovegood, who was patting her vaguely on the back.

"Oh, hello, boys," greeted Luna, beaming. "Harry, did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?"

"Wait, what?" gasped Harry, clapping a hand over his one of his eyebrows, before using the other to slap Charlie on the shoulder. "You prat! Why didn't you tell me that I looked like an idiot?"

"Because I thought it was an improvement to how you normally looked, honestly," joked Charlie, and he turned round to Hermione, holding out her books, "Hermione, you left your stuff..."

"Oh, right... thanks," whispered Hermione in a choked voice, taking her things and turning away quickly to hide the fact she was wiping her eyes with her pencil case.

"I've told him off," Charlie said to Hermione, referring to Ron, trying to sound reassuring, "but I'm not really sure anything is going to get through his thick head."

Hermione managed a small smile, but she quickly faltered, muttering, "W-Well, I'd better get going..."

And she hurried off, without ever giving Charlie any time to offer words of comfort, though admittedly he could not think of any.

"She's a bit upset," explained Luna, forcing Charlie's eyes off of Hermione's disappearing silhouette. "I thought at first it was Moaning Myrtle in there, but it turned out to be Hermione."

"She's upset about Ron," shrugged Harry, although there was a hint of confusion in his tone. "They had a bit of a row. He was acting like a right foul git in Transfiguration."

"Ron can be a bit unkind, can't he? I noticed that last year," whispered Luna, as the three of them set off down the corridor together. She turned her head towards Charlie, "She mentioned something about you too, you know. Apparently you two have had a bit of a falling out."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," muttered Charlie, shrugging. Luna was demonstrating her usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; he had never met anyone quite like her. "So, uh, have you had a good term?"

"Oh, it's been alright," said Luna in a dreamy voice. "A bit lonely without the D.A., but Elaina's been nice. She stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class from calling me 'Loony' the other day —"

"How would you like to come to Slughorn's party with me tonight?"

The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them; he heard himself say them as though it were a stranger speaking. Charlie whipped his head around, gaping at his best friend as though he might've heard wrong.

Luna turned her protuberant eyes to Harry in surprise.

"Slughorn's party? With you?"

"Yeah," nodded Harry, grinning slightly, "We're supposed to bring guests, so I thought you might like to... I mean..." He was keen to make his intentions perfectly clear. "I mean, just as friends, you know. But if you don't want to..."

Charlie could tell that Harry already half-hoping that she didn't want to.

"Oh no, I'd love to go with you as friends!" agreed Luna, beaming as he had never seen her beam before. "Nobody's ever asked me to a party before, as a friend! Is that why you dyed your eyebrow, for the party? Should I do mine too?"

"No," dismissed Harry firmly, "That was a mistake. I'll get Charlie, here, to put it right for me."

Charlie nodded with a cheeky smile, "I'll match them. Two yellow brows, no problem."

Harry rolled his eyes, then turned again to Luna, "So, I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall at eight o'clock then."

"AHA!" screamed a voice from overhead and the three of them jumped; unnoticed by either of them, they had just passed underneath Peeves, who was hanging upside down from a chandelier and grinning maliciously at them.

"Potty asked Loony to go to the party. Potty lurves Loony! Potty luuuuuurves Looooony!"

And he zoomed away cackling and shrieking, "Potty loves Loony!"

Stifling a laugh, Charlie grinned, "I reckon the whole school will know by lunch."

And sure enough, in no time at all the whole school seemed to know that Harry Potter was taking Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's party.

"Luna's a good choice," smiled Charlie over dinner that evening. "I mean, I admit she is a bit... different... but —"

"Nice of you to put it that way, Charlie," grinned Elaina, pausing behind Harry on her way to join friends. "I'm really glad you're taking her Harry, she's so excited."

And she moved on down the table to sit with Theodore Nott and the rest of the Slytherins. Harry tried to feel pleased that Elaina was glad he was taking Luna to the party but could not manage it.

A long way along the table Hermione was sitting with Ginny, playing with her stew. Harry noticed Charlie looking at her curiously and smirked, shaking his head.

"Why d'you reckon Ron imitated her in class?" asked Charlie, unable to stop himself from thinking of Hermione. "You'd think after all that's happened, they'd be closer than ever."

"Dunno," shrugged Harry, who thought it was natural for Ron and Hermione to fight. "But I told you that things between them have been... well, weird since the party."

Charlie scoffed, tightening his grip around his fork, "Yeah, well, I wonder why... oh God..."

He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose; Lavender Brown had just arrived to the table with Parvati Patil. Taking the empty seat next to Charlie, Lavender scooted her way up against him, batting her eyelids in his direction.

"Hey, Charlie," she greeted flirtatiously, and Charlie gulped, looking to Harry for immediate help. "I hear that you still don't have a date to Slughorn's party tonight."

"Yeah, I'm... uh, thinking of going stag," stammered Charlie, trying to distance himself from the persistent girl.

"Aw, but that's no fun," pouted Lavender, brushing his arm with her hand in a playful manner. "Why don't you ask me to go with you? I think the two of us could have a really good time together."

"I'm flattered, Lavender, really, but I'd honestly prefer to go alone," said Charlie firmly, wrenching himself free from her reach. Lavender sighed dramatically, glancing back and forth between him and her stew.

"Hi, Harry," said Parvati, who, like Harry, looked faintly embarrassed and bored by the behavior of their two friends.

"Hi," greeted Harry, feeling as though it was best to let Charlie fend off Lavender on his own, "How're you? You're staying at Hogwarts, then? I heard your parents wanted you to leave."

"I managed to talk them out of it for the time being," explained Parvati, glancing around. "That Katie thing really freaked them out, but as there hasn't been anything since... Oh, hi, Hermione!"

Immediately, like a moth to a flame, Charlie's head snapped up. Across the table, Parvati positively beamed. Charlie could tell that she was feeling guilty for having laughed at Hermione in Transfiguration. He looked around and saw that Hermione was beaming back, possibly even more brightly.

Girls were very strange sometimes.

"Hi, Parvati!" waved Hermione, ignoring Charlie and Lavender completely. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

Hermione's rehearsed, sing-song tone told him she was up to something; Charlie immediately braced himself.

"No invite," frowned Parvati gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really fun... you're going though, aren't you? With Ron, right?"

"Uh, no, actually," corrected Hermione, bashfully moving a strand of hair from her face. "Not with Ron... things didn't end up working out. Now, under the circumstances, I've had to make other arrangements —"

There was a loud noise of clattering silverware, for Charlie had knocked over his cup, splattering pumpkin juice everywhere, upon hearing the newfound revelation. Still, Hermione acted as though she had not seen or heard anything.

"Oh? With who?" asked Parvati, evidently curious.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" grinned Hermione, with the most un-Hermione-ish giggle.

"Yes, I would! Oh my Merlin, you have to tell me," begged Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece of gossip.

"It's a surprise," said Hermione, and Charlie could've sworn he saw a ghost of a smirk dancing upon her lips, purposefully taunting him with the idea.

Thinking irrationally, Charlie leaned over the table; Harry's eyes widened, thinking immediately that there was no possible outcome of this situation that was going to be considered good.

"Hey, Parvati," called Charlie, blatantly ignoring the puzzled look he instantly received from Hermione. "Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but overhear what you said earlier about wanting to go to the party. Well, why don't you come along with me?"

Harry gulped, warning, "Charlie..."

"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Lavender Brown, looking incredibly taken aback. "You just told me you wanted to go alone."

"I've changed my mind," Charlie shrugged, before turning back around to an astonished Parvati Patil. He gave her a lighthearted smile, "So, what d'you say?"

Parvati balked for a moment, subconsciously asking a conflicted-looking Hermione for permission. Although evidently hurt, given the furrowed brows and the frown plastered upon her face, Hermione shrugged.

Apparently that was good enough for Parvati, for she looked to Charlie immediately after, beaming, "Yes! Yes, I'd love to go!"

"Brilliant," nodded Charlie, smirking to himself slightly as he could feel Hermione's narrowed eyes upon him. "I'll see you tonight then."

"I can't wait," said Parvati happily, and she got up from her chair, darting over towards the Ravenclaw table to presumably tell her sister what had happened; Lavender got up with a huff and ran after her, and Charlie wouldn't've been surprised if he had somehow caused a disconnect in their friendship with a single sentence.

With both girls gone from the table, Charlie had no choice but to look back up to a displeased Hermione, who was glaring in his direction.

"You just won't stop, will you?" she snapped at him, but she didn't give Charlie the chance to answer, as she stormed off, opening the large Great Hall doors and hastily disappearing behind them.

Harry looked strangely blank, pondering the depths to which someone would sink to get revenge.

"What're you playing at?" he asked Charlie, who had began cleaning up his spilled pumpkin juice from before.

"Don't look at me like that, Harry," grunted Charlie, annoyed by the suggestive look his friend had been giving him. "Parvati wanted to go, so I asked, that's all."

"You know, if you wanted to make Hermione jealous so badly, you should've just asked Lavender," reminded Harry, grinning at the thought that, even after everything, Charlie and Hermione still couldn't accept the idea of the other being with someone else.

"I can barely tolerate Lavender for two seconds, never-mind two hours," said Charlie, recoiling at his friend's idea. "Besides, Parvati deserves it after suffering in your company at the Yule Ball."

"Oi!" exclaimed Harry playfully, leaning over the table to whack Charlie on the back of the head. "I wasn't that bad of a date."

"Remind me to ask Luna her thoughts at the end of the night," sniggered Charlie, and the two boys continued to eat their dinner in the utmost amusement, despite the unbearable feeling of guilt that arose in the brown eyed boy's stomach.

————————————————————

When Charlie arrived in the Entrance Hall at eight o'clock that night, he found an unusually large number of girls lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring at him resentfully as he approached Parvati. She looked very pretty indeed, in a stunning dress of vivid blue, with her long dark hair draped upon her shoulders, paired with silver bracelets that glimmered on her wrists.

Charlie, who opted for a simple, yet sleek, black suit and bow tie combination, greeted Parvati amongst the crowd, taking her hand in his and placing a polite kiss upon her knuckles.

(A/N: fun fact — this was my original faceclaim for Charlie, but I changed him because I wanted my main character to be a British actor.)

"You look nice," he mused genuinely, holding his arm out for her to link onto. "Shall we get going then?"

"Oh yes," Parvati beamed happily, taking his arm. "Thank you for bringing me, by the way."

"It was no problem at all," said Charlie, leading her up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering. "I'm glad you decided to come with me."

With a shared smile, the two of them paraded forward, meeting up with Harry and Luna on the way; as one could've guessed, it wasn't difficult to spot Luna in a sea of people.

"Hello, Charlie, you look great," greeted Luna, giving him a little wave. "You too, Parvati."

"Thanks, Luna, we can say the same about you," Charlie grinned in response, before he and Harry greeted one another with their signature handshake.

Luna was wearing a set of spangled silver robes that were attracting a certain amount of giggles from the onlookers, but otherwise she looked quite nice. Charlie could tell Harry was glad, in any case, that she had left off her radish earrings, her Butterbeer-cork necklace, and her Spectrespecs.

"Did you hear?" inquired Harry, laughing at the rumour floating around. "There's supposed to be a vampire coming."

"Rufus Scrimgeour?" asked Luna, catching everyone around her completely off guard.

"I — what?" whispered Harry, disconcerted. "You mean the Minister of Magic?"

"Yes, he's a vampire," said Luna matter-of-factly. "Father wrote a very long article about it when Scrimgeour first took over for Minister Hawthorne, but he was forced not to publish by somebody from the Ministry. Obviously, they didn't want the truth to get out!"

Charlie, who thought it most unlikely that Rufus Scrimgeour was a vampire, but who was used to Luna repeating her father's bizarre views as though they were fact, did not reply, and neither did anyone else; they were already approaching Slughorn's office and the sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation were growing louder with every step they took.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light.

Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

"Charles, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Charlie, Parvati, Harry, and Luna had squeezed in through the door. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you! Finally you've decided to join us, I see! Come in, come in, so many people I'd like you to meet!"

Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Charlie's arm so tightly that he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn led him purposefully into the party; Charlie seized Parvati's hand and dragged her along with him.

"Charles, I'd like you two to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of 'Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires' — and, of course, his friend Sanguini."

Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Charlie's hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.

"Charlie Hawthorne, I am simply delighted!" said Worple, peering short-sightedly up into Charlie's face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, where is the biography of Charlie Hawthorne for which we have all been waiting?"

"Uh," gulped Charlie, glancing over to Parvati helplessly, "were you?"

"Just as modest as Horace described!" laughed Worple, clapping the boy on the back. "But seriously —" his manner changed; it became suddenly business-like, "I would be delighted to write it myself — people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! Your father has mysteriously disappeared in our time of need, and it's curious, wouldn't you say? If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say, four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months! Imagine the gold you could make, my boy, you have no idea —"

"I'm not interested," dismissed Charlie firmly, despite Slughorn's look of disapproval. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I should probably go and find my friends."

And without room for rebuttal, Charlie pulled Parvati after him through the crowd; good thing too, for the vampire had been edging toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye.

"Would you like a drink?" Charlie offered towards Parvati, who had been glancing around anxiously at the company in the room.

"What? Oh! Yes, yes I'd love one," said Parvati, coming back to her senses. They reached the refreshment table and Charlie took a glass of firewhiskey into his hands, handing one to his date, before taking one for himself.

With a sigh, Charlie downed the drink in his glass, immediately feeling the hot liquid trickle its way down his throat. Smoke escaped his lips as he wiped his hand sloppily on his mouth.

"You know, I was surprised when you asked me out," Parvati muttered, lining the rim of her glass with her fingertips.

"Oh?" said Charlie mindlessly, taking another firewhiskey from the table, although his eyes were scanning the crowd vigorously. "And why is that?"

"Well, we've never really spoken much before today," Parvati shrugged, eyeing him head to toe. "I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but your invitation did seem to come at the most opportune time, wouldn't you say?"

Charlie gulped, slamming another firewhiskey down. He could foresee where this conversation was going and he shuddered at the thought of confrontation.

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said after a moment, acting oblivious.

"Oh, come on, Charlie," Parvati giggled, finally succeeding in pulling her date's gaze from the crowd. "It doesn't take an A-Level genius to notice the way you still look at Granger. I suppose that's why you asked me out, right? To make her jealous?"

Charlie blinked, thoroughly perplexed. He could feel his cheeks growing hot, but he wasn't sure whether it was from nervousness or the rapidity at which he was consuming alcohol.

"I, uh... I dunno — wait, what?"

"Look, I get it really," assured Parvati, placing a comforting arm on his shoulder. "I'd do the same if I was in your position."

"I don't understand," said Charlie, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Why'd you agree to come with me if you knew that I was — ?"

"Using me?" finished Parvati, and Charlie nodded guiltily, cursing himself for being an righteous prat. "Well, it was pretty difficult to say no after seeing what happened during the party the other night..."

"Oh, I see," joked Charlie, although he could feel his heart pound in his chest at the reminder of the kiss. "This is just a pity date, is it?"

"Well, for lack of a better term, yes," giggled Parvati, sipping on her drink at last, for the atmosphere had become significantly lighter. "But, I will admit, I did want to know what all the Slug Club fuss was about."

"Oh! So, who's using who now?" sniggered Charlie, earning a playful smack on the arm from his date. When they calmed down, however, Charlie's eyes softened and he looked at Parvati gratefully, "In all seriousness though, thank you. I really appreciate how cool you are about this."

"I wouldn't thank me just yet," dismissed Parvati, glancing through the crowd. She turned back to Charlie abruptly, whispering, "Okay, don't look now, but you seem to have caught the eye of the girl who occupies your thoughts."

Confused, Charlie looked up, following where Parvati's gaze had just been fixated upon. Sure enough, he briefly locked eyes with Hermione, who was peering over her shoulder at him from across the room.

Hermione's hair was curled, soft ringlets falling over her collarbone, and she wore a light, bubblegum pink dress that accentuated her curves. Charlie became transfixed and, similar to the Yule Ball, she had rendered him utterly speechless, gaping at her with dark, lustful eyes. It wasn't even that his mouth wouldn't move; it was that his brain wouldn't think.

"I said don't look, you prat!" squealed Parvati, nudging him hard enough to bring Charlie's attention back towards her, leaving him completely unaware of the frown that curled upon Hermione's lips at the interruption of their gaze. "Okay, okay, I have a plan... and you're just going to have to trust me on this.."

"What do you mea—"

But Charlie stopped himself before he could get the words out, for he felt, with a shudder of surprise, the placement of Pavarti's plump lips placed upon his cheek. The sensation of her cool lips meeting his feverish skin made Charlie freeze in shock, his breath clogging in his throat. Only when Pavarti pulled back with a smirk, did Charlie blink in his senses, snapping his head to meet her eyes.

"Why'd you do that?"

"To show her how it feels," hummed Pavarti, gesturing over to where Hermione was standing; with a quick look, Charlie could see Hermione's cheeks redden with fury before she stormed her way through the crowd, disappearing completely from his view.

Charlie's mouth fell agape in awe, speaking mindlessly, "So, what do we do now?"

"Now, it's up to you to preform some damage control," encouraged Parvati, pushing him forward. "Meanwhile, I'm going to spend the rest of my night looking over my shoulder, hoping to Merlin that Granger doesn't slip poison into my drink when I'm not looking."

"You truly are amazing, you know," said Charlie, smiling genuinely at his date. "I cannot thank you enough."

"It was no problem, really," shrugging Parvati, clinking her glass with his in celebration. "I'll see you later, okay?"

And before Charlie knew it, Parvati had disappeared into the crowd, finding immediate company with Marcus Belby, who was stuffing his face at the buffet table. Charlie turned away with an amused smile, trying to scan his way through the plethora of people once again.

Barely visible through the cloud of pipe smoke coming from the group of old warlocks in the corner, Charlie could see the misty silhouettes of Hermione, Harry, and Luna. Coughing, Charlie walked through the smoke, grabbing another goblet of firewhiskey from a passing house-elf on the way, and pushed his way through the sea of Slughorn's guests.

"What's happened to you?" Charlie heard Harry ask Hermione as he approached, for the girl looked beautiful, but also distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare.

"Oh, I've just escaped — I mean, I've just left Cormac," came Hermione's flustered voice. "Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.

'Cormac? No- not him... that can't be right,' Charlie thought to himself, his mind practically exploding. 'Hermione, you can't be serious.'

Charlie came to a sudden halt, a few feet behind where his friends were standing, and his jaw clenched out of instinct. He stared at the back of Hermione's head in disbelief, wondering whether or not her choice of bringing Cormac McLaggen to the party was worse than being forced to endure a night of her and Ron being together.

"Cormac?" Charlie heard Harry exclaim, flabbergasted on his best friend's behalf. "That's who you've invited?"

"I thought he'd annoy Charlie the most," sighed Hermione dispassionately. "I debated Zacharias Smith for a while, but I thought against it —"

"You considered Smith?" repeated Harry, utterly revolted; Charlie hoped the torture would stop soon, but, like most times in his life, the boy was without luck.

"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him. I fully regret bringing McLaggen. He makes Grawp look like a gentleman," groaned Hermione, evidently disturbed. "Regardless, my plan completely backfired... Charlie hasn't even noticed. He's too busy snogging Pavarti by the looks of it," she added, her tone borderline temperamental.

"In all fairness, an innocent peck on the cheek isn't nearly comparable to what you've done," Charlie stepped out of the crowd, having heard enough, and made his presence known; Hermione jumped, caught and clutching at her heart. "So, forgive me, but I'm having difficulty justifying your frustration."

"Are you ever going to let that go?" Hermione asked angrily, turning around to look at Charlie, trying not to swoon over how dashing he looked in his suit. "I've already told you that what happened between Ron and I was a one-sided thing, which, by the way, I've made sure will never happen again!"

"Doesn't change the fact that it happened," shrugged Charlie, raising his voice ever so slightly over the music.

Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms, "So, despite everything you've done, I'm the one at fault here?"

"I didn't say that," rebutted Charlie, bringing his goblet of firewhiskey to his lips. "In all honesty, I'm just trying to have a good night, but you seem to be spending more time worrying about my date than you are about your own."

"I am not!" snapped Hermione, although the redness suddenly burning on her cheeks told a different story. "It's not my fault that you're incredibly distracting."

"Don't let McLaggen hear you say that," Charlie laughed, shaking his head as he tried to remain calm at the mention of Hermione's date. "Imagine the look of heartbreak on the prat's face when he realizes that his date wants nothing to do with him."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," shouted Hermione, her hands falling back to her side with a huff. "Just because I'm not drooling over Cormac, doesn't mean I'm not interested."

"Yeah, right," grinned Charlie sarcastically, eyeing her from head to toe. "Maybe I'm mistaken, but comparing your date to the subtlety of a giant sounds pretty damn uninterested to me."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at him, but it was unclear what the intentions were behind her look.

"Do they do this often?" Luna asked Harry in a dream-like whisper; Charlie and Hermione were too busy glaring at one another to notice.

"Do what? Argue like an old married couple?" mused Harry, and Luna nodded at him, watching the couple in front of her bicker back and forth in amazement. "Yes, it's a very common occurrence."

"You are unbelievable, you know?" Hermione spat at Charlie, and she watched as his jaw clenched.

But before Charlie could open his mouth to respond, Hermione walked away, so fast it was as though she had Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next, she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and vanished.

Harry looked at Charlie, smiling sarcastically, "Well, that could not have gone better."

"Serves her right for bringing McLaggen as her date," retaliated Charlie, muttering into his cup, before downing the rest of the burning liquid in a single gulp.

"Take it easy on the firewhiskey, mate," warned Harry, putting a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Remember, we're supposed to make a good impression on Slughorn."

"We're supposed to get to know him," corrected Charlie, looking around for another drink tray. "Besides, you can't blame me, can you? I didn't even want to come to this stupid thing."

"Nor did I," joked Harry, giving Luna an apologetic look. "Rest assured, however, I don't think it'll last much longer... until then, let's go get some food."

Charlie, Harry, and Luna made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, realizing far too late that Professor Trelawney was standing near the buffet table in nobody's company but her own.

"Hello," said Luna politely to Professor Trelawney.

"Good evening, my dear," greeted Professor Trelawney, focusing upon Luna with some difficulty. Charlie could smell cooking sherry again. "I haven't seen you in my classes lately..."

"No, I've got Firenze this year," explained Luna, grinning.

"Oh, of course," said Professor Trelawney with an angry, drunken titter. "Or Dobbin, as I prefer to think of him. You would have thought, would you not, that now I am returned to the school Professor Dumbledore might have got rid of the horse? But no... we share classes... it's an insult, frankly, an insult. Did you know..."

Professor Trelawney seemed too tipsy to have recognized either of the boys at Luna's side. Under cover of her furious criticisms of Firenze, Charlie drew closer to Harry and muttered, "So, the old bat can get drunk, but I can't? Bloody hell, she's supposed to be setting an example, is she not?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, stifling a laugh, "That's a fair point, but still, be careful —"

But Harry was cut off when there was a sudden pull at his arm, revealing the distressed face of Cormac McLaggen; Charlie's grip tightened around his goblet.

"Seen Hermione?" he asked, slurring his words, as he forced his way into the conversation.

"No, now fuck off," growled Charlie, and he turned quickly to join in Luna's conversation, forgetting for a split second to whom she was talking.

"Oh, my dears, so good to see you!" beamed Professor Trelawney in deep, vibrant tones, noticing the two Gryffindor boys for the first time.

"Oh, hello, Professor," Charlie and Harry muttered unenthusiastically in incredible unison.

"My dear boy!" she whispered towards Harry, but it was still loud enough for her voice to carry. "The rumors! The stories! The Chosen One! Of course, I have known for a very long time... the omens were never good, Harry... but why have you not returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the subject is of the utmost importance!"

"Ah, Sybil, we all think our subject's most important!" said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney's other side, his face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pie in the other. "But I don't think I've ever known such a natural at Potions!" continued Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, if not bloodshot, eye. "Instinctive, you know — like his mother! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybil — why even Severus —"

And to Charlie's horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air, pulling him towards them.

"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" hiccuped Slughorn happily. "I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"

Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.

"Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all."

"Well, then, it's natural ability!" shouted Slughorn, evidently sloshed. "You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death — never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don't think even you, Severus —"

"Really?" muttered Snape quietly, his eyes now boring into Charlie, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to continue to question him about the Dark Lord's attempts at contacting him.

"Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Harry?" asked Slughorn, beaming down upon the boy; Charlie forced his gaze away from Snape at once.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology..."

"All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror," said Snape with the faintest sneer.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do," nodded Harry defiantly, taking a sip from his drink.

"And a great one you'll make too!" boomed Slughorn, the tips of his moustache curling upwards.

"I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry," whispered Luna unexpectedly, and everyone looked at her. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease."

Charlie inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh. Emerging from his goblet, coughing, sopping wet but still grinning, he noticed that Snape's glare had returned upon him.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Charlie made to excuse himself, not willing to allow his resentment for Professor Snape ruin his night entirely. He was surprised, however, when Snape went as far to stop him before he even thought about taking a step in the other direction.

"Not so fast, Mr. Hawthorne."

"I'd love to stay and chat, Professor," Charlie grimaced, biting his tongue to resist the snark threatening to fall from his lips, "but I think I should rejoin the party. My date..."

"...can surely survive your absence for another minute or two," finished Snape, with a clear disregard for formalities. "Besides, I only wish to convey a message."

Charlie blinked, glancing over to Harry for help, before muttering, "A message...?"

"From your grandfather," explained Snape, speaking incredibly monotonous. "He asked that I give you his best and that he hopes you enjoy your holiday. You see... he's travelling and won't be back until term resumes."

"Travelling?" repeated Charlie, utterly confused. "Did he say where? Why didn't he tell me this himself?"

But Snape merely stared at Charlie in silence for a moment, briefly contemplating what to say, before deciding to leave the boy in the state of utmost curiosity, exiting hastily and taking Charlie's gaze with him.

"Blimey, Severus hasn't changed since I first had the privilege of meeting him... still a man of few words," laughed Slughorn, bringing Charlie back to his senses. Nevertheless, Slughorn carried on, smoke escaping his lips, "Now! Where were we..."

That had been it for Charlie. Deciding that he had had enough of the events of tonight, he excused himself from the group, saying, "I'll be back in a bit, okay? I just, uh, have to use the restroom."

"Alright," Luna said cheerfully, and Charlie thought he heard her, as he hurried off into the crowd, resume the subject of the Rotfang Conspiracy with Professor Trelawney, who seemed sincerely interested.

It was easy, once he had disappeared amongst the sea of people, to avoid any protests from Harry that might've rang in the air. What was more difficult, however, was finding a place that would allow him to clear his head — he had been hoping that the cold night air might jolt some sense into him.

Making a slight detour, however, Charlie stumbled his way over to the bar, carefully leaning over and grabbing an unopened bottle of firewhiskey from the shelf; the bartender was too preoccupied with chatting to a beautiful, gypsy-like woman, who was evidently flirting with him, to notice anything.

Charlie let his feet carry him out of the party with the bottle in his hands, the noise of his feet masked by the music and loud talk still issuing from Slughorn's office behind him. He pushed through a door, leading him outside and onto a suspended stone balcony, which overlooked the castle grounds, providing him with a private place to release his emotions.

The cold night air rushed at him, stinging his exposed skin ever so slightly. Charlie leaned against the railing with a heavy sigh, breathing in the fresh air, before looking towards the dotted sky. He undid the fasten to his bow tie, letting it dangle freely around his neck, and soon after, unbuttoned the top button of his pearl white dress shirt, allowing for a sudden rush of suffocation to disintegrate into nothingness.

In attempt to forget the tainted memories that plagued his mind, Charlie unscrewed the lid of the rustic-looking bottle in his hands, slowing bringing the spout to his lips and taking a swig. His stomach burned with the hot liquid, although it did calm the nerves that had been overwhelming him.

Right from the start, it had been a failure of an evening. Yet, against his better judgement, Charlie had drank far too much, unable to stop himself from reaching a tipping point. The light of the moon, although peering through slow-moving translucent clouds, allowed for the white glow to splash upon his upper body like a spot light, entrapping him in a silent battle with his thoughts —

Snape is convinced you've ruined everything.

Voldemort doesn't like to be disobeyed.

Your father undeniably wants you dead.

Malfoy is up to God knows what.

Your grandfather wants nothing to do with you.

Elaina thinks you're dancing on the edge of anxiety.

Ron probably hates you, just as much as you hate him.

Harry thinks you're a mental case.

And Hermione... well, yeah...

Squeezing his eyes shut, Charlie took another hearty gulp from the bottle, desperately trying to find hope and solace somewhere lost at the bottom. He realized, with a stab of discomfort, that the alcohol in his system made his body suffer from an impending heat that stemmed from his core.

Without second thought, Charlie carefully took off his suit jacket, draping it over the railing, before unbuttoning his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, forcing himself to ignore the mark that was permanently burned into his skin. Instead, he undid another two buttons of his shirt, finally revealing his muscular chest hidden underneath, and exhaled deeply, trying to reclaim peace as he faded into oblivion.

The bottle became less and less heavy in his hands as Charlie took another sip, relishing the burning in his throat and the faint buzzing in his head. He liked getting drunk slowly, feeling the world get fuzzy at the edges, until his thoughts became watery and felt less like a solid weight.

He needed this... at least that's what he told himself. All he wanted was for his problems to fade away, so he could enjoy a single night without worry, without heartbreak, pain, or isolation —

Charlie let his fingers slick back his mop of messy hair, although his signature curl seemed to have found permanent residence dangling in front of his eyes. There was a pounding somewhere, like quick footsteps, but Charlie paid it no mind. He was too busy staring mindlessly at the twinkling stars to register anything else, his vision blurry after he took another drink.

The sound of footsteps cut into his thoughts again, starting from far away and getting closer with each step. They were too measured and calm to be Harry, no shuffle or stomp that would have signalled his distinctive gait. Charlie kept his head down, staring at the amber liquid at the bottom of the bottle, too ashamed to look up. He didn't want anyone to see him this way, stranger or not.

'They will pass eventually,' he thought, trying to ignore it.

But the pounding became a soft thumping, slower now as the sound grew closer. Soon enough, Charlie could hear the creaking of the door hinges behind him, momentarily allowing the raging music to intrude on his silence, before the door evidently closed again, trapping the noise like a vacuum-seal all over again.

This time, however, Charlie was no longer alone on the balcony. It took him less than five seconds to recognize the heavenly scent that filled his nostrils, and he shivered upon realization of who had joined him under the stars.

Charlie cleared his throat. The sound echoed in the stillness of the night, and only served to make him more self-conscious. He licked his lips, aware that the intense gaze of Hermione Granger was burning into the back of his head.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" he asked with a grin, glancing over his shoulder.

"How much have you had to drink?" Hermione asked, but she looked at him like she already knew the answer, a habit of which he was not particularly fond of.

"Just enough to make this party bearable," Charlie muttered honestly, feeling the weight of her disdainful gaze. "Nothing to worry about, I assure you."

Charlie turned around to face Hermione at last, and his expression cut right into her, revealing more than he probably intended, sending a jolt of something hot right down her spine. Hermione approached him warily, the bottle in his hands drew her gaze before anything else. The flagon of amber liquid was half-empty and she felt a mild pang of alarm over how much he'd consumed.

"Please, go back inside, Hermione," Charlie whispered, practically begging, before Hermione even had the chance to speak. "I don't have the energy to fight with you right now."

"Tough," Hermione replied, her eyes glittering now with a sudden surge of anger. She took another step forward, holding out her hand, "Give me the bottle."

"And what're you going to do if I don't?" Charlie challenged, cocking his head at her, studying her thoughtfully. Hermione grimaced at the scent of his firewhiskey on his breath.

"I'll report you to McGonagall," she spat disdainfully, reaching for the bottle herself; Charlie quickly pulled it out of her reach. "I'm not asking again: hand it over."

Charlie pointedly ignored her protests, either because he was drunk or because he didn't wish to acknowledge them. Nonetheless, he laughed at the fact that she honestly thought bringing McGonagall into the conversation was enough to scare him.

"Why don't you go back inside to McLaggen?" he suggested, keeping his eyes pointed to the ground. "I was perfectly fine out here on my own."

"Oh, yes, perfectly fine getting absolutely hammered all on your lonesome," Hermione countered sarcastically, sick of his tipsy demeanour. She glared at him, like a mother would when scolding their child, and crossed her arms in disappointment.

They stared at each other, the silence stretching out between them; the tension making the air grow thicker with each passing second. Charlie's temper flared with indignation, his instincts prompting him to leap to his own defence.

"God, Hermione, why are you even out here?" he snapped, running his hands over his face exasperatedly. "What exactly do you want from me?"

Hermione blinked, her focus returning to his eyes at his harsh assessment, "I was hoping we could talk."

"About what?"

"Give me the bottle and maybe you'll find out."

Charlie rolled his eyes at the ultimatum, ignoring the cautious relief coursing through the part of him that still cared, no matter how deeply he buried it. At last, he held the bottle out towards her ever so slowly, and Hermione took it from his hands and into her own, releasing a shaky breath of relief.

"There, now was that so hard?" said Hermione, trying to lighten the mood, as she set the bottle down on the ground; Charlie had simply turned his back on her, slumping his shoulders as he leaned up against the railing once again, staring up at the black night sky.

"Alright, let's hear it," he prompted, although he couldn't gather the courage to look in Hermione's eyes, especially when she moved to join him, looking over the edge of the balcony with a sigh.

"Hear what?"

"Your big, angry speech," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "How I shouldn't have brought Parvati as my date. How I'm an arrogant arse and you can't believe you ever blah, blah, blah..." he turned towards her, narrowing his eyes. "It must be impressive since you couldn't wait for another time to deliver it."

Hermione let out a silent gasp, regarding the lack of empathy in the boy man voice, before scowling and dropping her gaze. Heaving a sigh, she mumbled, "You are an arrogant arse..."

"Here it comes," Charlie muttered, bracing himself despite his outwardly flippant attitude.

"But I don't have a big, angry speech, Charlie," Hermione added, catching Charlie completely off guard, as she lifted her tired gaze to his. "I'm not mad at you."

Narrowing his eyes, Charlie demanded suspiciously, "Why not?"

A weak smile curled onto Hermione's lips, then she shrugged, "Because I'm tired of fighting with you."

Charlie swallowed hard, gaping at her, hiding his surprise behind his clouded eyes. Appraising her with a long, appreciative look, he said, "Really?"

"We've both done things to purposely hurt one another," Hermione continued, losing the rueful smile as her eyes took on a glassy, faraway look and he watched her go somewhere else. "And the other night... well, let's just say, things really took a turn for the worst."

"That's putting it lightly," grumbled Charlie, reminding himself that, thanks to his ability to hold a grudge, he no longer had to consider her delicate feelings.

"Please, don't be angry with me," Hermione pleaded, her eyes raking him, waiting for him to say something, to do something. "Everything happened so fast after the Quidditch match... it was difficult for me to deal with everything all at once —"

"And you don't think it was difficult for me?" Charlie spat rather harshly, struggling against the feelings warring inside him. "Merlin, Hermione, do you have any idea how it felt to see you with him?"

"Contrary to your belief, I do know exactly what that type of heartbreak feels like," said Hermione; her eyes still sparkled with tears, but there was nothing sad in her fiery gaze. "And I'm sorry that it happened, just like I'm sorry that you had to see it. Can you at least try to understand that Ron —"

"Ron," Charlie repeated in a vicious growl, laughing maliciously. "Speaking of the ginger-haired git, where is he? I thought he was supposed to be your date tonight?"

"Just because you don't believe me when I tell you that nothing is going on between Ron and I, doesn't mean all boys are deliberately daft," Hermione ridiculed, shaking her head. "Believe me, I made myself crystal clear when I told Ron that whatever relationship him and I have is strictly platonic, just like it will always be. He didn't seem to take it too lightly though... as you may have guessed, if you were paying any attention in Transfiguration this morning."

"Right," Charlie forced the word out, his throat clogging with guilt. "I'm sorry," he added in a low whisper, hesitating.

Hermione's gaze trailed her down from his eyes, noticing the contours of his upper body before she could stop herself. There was the slightest sheen of sweat over Charlie that made him glow even a bit more. She captured each line of his muscles with her eyes, over his hard chest and back up to the smooth lines of his neck and chin.

Charlie's eyebrows were twisted with worry, having wondered why she had yet to say anything. His eyes settled on her almost immediately as if he'd been desperate to look at her but trying his hardest to resist.

Caught, Hermione realized that he noticed her undeniable staring, but still, she looked up towards the night sky, pretending as if she had done nothing wrong. Charlie kept his eyes completely focused on her, with a smirk curled on his lips, practically able to hear her heart beat slow and quicken again.

After a moment, Hermione looked back at him, the expression on her face almost indescribable.

"Uh, what were y-you saying?" she stammered, her bottom lip anxiously found its way between her teeth.

"I told you I was sorry about the whole Ron thing," Charlie reiterated, despite the desire to grin from ear to ear. Nonetheless, he pulled himself together, admitting at last, "That, and everything else, really. You were right when you said that you should've been the first to know..."

He trailed off. Charlie kept his now hardened gaze on the mark branded on his arm, unable to avoid Hermione's intruding eyes completely, but hoping that at least if he wasn't looking at her, he would be able to keep some of his personal thoughts to himself.

It was no use; Hermione was always able to cut him open and poke around inside his brain... and unfortunately his heart.

She exhaled, took in a new set of air and asked, in timid voice, "Then, why didn't you tell me?"

"I... well, I don't know," shrugged Charlie, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "I guess I just didn't know how."

Tilting her head, Hermione gently took a step back, muttering, "That's not an excuse."

"I know, Hermione, but I was trying to —"

"Protect me, yes I know," she finished, her tone had a sudden hint of underlying annoyance. "But I really wish you'd stop acting like that justifies your actions."

Anguish was the only word Charlie could think of that would describe the horrible, all-encompassing feeling swallowing him alive.

"I don't care how many times you try to sugarcoat things," For the moment, Hermione seemed to give up on reasoning with him, fuelling an untreated rage within her. "You lied to me. You kept things from me. You broke me without an explanation, blindsiding me completely. Then, you have the nerve to tell me that everything you did, everything you hid from me, was all in my best interest?"

"Hermione —"

"No! I'm not finished," Hermione yelled, her temper flaring, rendering Charlie utterly speechless. "God, Charlie, it's been months, and up until recently, you haven't explained a damn thing to me! For all I know, there's more to the story than you're leading me to believe!"

"What exactly are you implying?" Charlie frowned, cautiously taking a step towards her out of instinct. He watched as Hermione shrugged her shoulders, a small scoff escaping her lips.

"Maybe this isn't about my safety more than it is about your need to keep your dirty little secret hidden," she spat, before she even realized what she was saying. "I mean, Merlin forbid the pureblood echelon find out that the Hawthorne heir is slumming it with a Mudblood."

Charlie balked and found himself at a loss for words. The effortless way in which the words left her lips stung a little more than he would've cared to admit, sobering him within a single instant. He looked slightly taken aback by her affronted tone, but regained his composure quickly.

Out of all people, Hermione was supposed to be the one person who knew Charlie better than anyone else... and yet, here she was, seeing him as nothing more than his father's son, forever branded as one of Voldemort's loyal followers.

"You don't mean that... y-you can't..."

A gentle breeze sent a shiver down Charlie's spine, making the trees in the near distance flutter their leaves softly in the wind. The air was heavy and the atmosphere tense.

"I... I'm sorry," Hermione whispered the words, softening, tears gathering in her eyes again. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I don't know why I said that. Please, you know I didn't mean it... Merlin, I-I can't even begin to fathom how you must've felt... my god. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry —"

"Hermione, stop," Guilt had Charlie moving toward her, abandoning caution by taking her face in his hands. "Don't cry, please, I feel helpless when you do."

"I'm sorry," she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, wrapping her hands around his wrists as he held her; Charlie used his thumbs to wipe the tear from her cheeks. "For all of it."

"I know," Charlie told her, swallowing hard, his protective instincts attempting to crush the hope slowly growing within him. "I'm sorry too."

"I don't know what's gotten into me," Hermione admitted, covering his hands with hers, easing them from her face and resting them against her chest, holding him to her. "I feel like I've been overthinking every little thing, lashing out unexpectedly."

"Yeah, well, there's been entirely too much thinking going on," Charlie rasped, moving closer to her, caution fully thrown to the wind as he lifted one hand to brush the hair back from her face.

"I suppose you're right... too much thinking..."

Charlie watched her, listening to the erratic pounding of her heart. He thought she might run again and he braced himself to chase her. His brown irises widened in shock, however, as Hermione bit her lower lip, forcing his hold on her to tighten out of reflex.

Hermione had never looked more kissable to Charlie than in that moment; with her curled hair, enticing lips, and dark chocolate eyes looking at him with utmost anticipation. It was a minute later that her comforting cinnamon scent wafted into his nostrils, making him feel dazed.

They stared at each other for a few more moments, Hermione holding her breath until she realized that she was standing there, waiting for him to make a move, to kiss her. She let her hand drop down from her face, surprised by the long awaited feeling of warmth that was direct result of Charlie's skin being so close to hers.

Don't think about it. Don't think —

Hermione made a quick decision in that moment.

Without missing another beat, she slid her hand behind Charlie's neck, stretched up onto her toes, and pulled his lips against hers. All sense of caution fled as she moved her entire body into his arms and their mouths met, fitting together as naturally as two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She felt Charlie inhale sharply before he responded, sighing contently into her mouth as his arms moved to tighten around her waist, pulling her close.

Charlie didn't have time to stumble or gape at what was happening. The moment was perfect... it was beautiful... and it was so damn sexy. Their lips slanted together, over and over. His nose was cold against her cheek, but his mouth was fantastically warm as it opened to her, moving almost desperately against hers. Adrenaline rocketed through them both, and when they pulled apart, they were breathing heavily.

"Wait, wait, Hermione, what are we doin—"

"Please, don't stop," Hermione's mouth trailed over his jaw, "The rest of our talk can wait. Kiss me, Charlie. Six months without you is far too long..."

————————————

[REDACTED PER WATTPAD GUIDELINES]

————————————

When they pulled back from one another, Charlie held a hand out in Hermione's direction, silently helping her down off of the counter in the Prefect's bathroom.

Hermione allowed herself a moment to take in his naked form as Charlie moved to gather their scattered clothes from the floor, flawless skin emphasizing his every muscle. Charlie cleared his throat, bringing her back from her short reverie. He smirked slightly, pulling on his boxers, as her face flushed with embarrassment.

But his toned muscles weren't all that Hermione noticed.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Hermione awed at the several large scratches and love bites covering his pale skin. Charlie followed her gaze, looking down, before turning back to look at Hermione with a cheeky little grin.

"Looks like you did more damage than the birds."

With a sheepish, relieved giggle, Hermione shook her head, before proceeding to slip her undergarments back on, finding a few souvenirs herself in the form of small bite marks on her inner thighs. After a few more moments, Hermione slid back into her dress and Charlie, now fully clothed, came up behind her and zipped her dress back up.

Trying to make the moment last longer, Charlie moved all of her hair to one side, allowing for his head to find refuge in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent, as his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Please don't tell me you regret that," he begged against her skin, warmth spreading through him when she snuggled closer to his body.

"I don't regret that."

Hermione turned around to kiss him, pecking his lips repeatedly as though she was making sure she wasn't dreaming. He ran a hand through her silky coffee brown hair and, after her assault on his lips, Hermione rested her head against his strong chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"But," she added, reaching a hand up to gently caress his cheek, "we still have a lot to talk about."

"I know," Charlie sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into the warmth of her touch. Hermione brought her lips to his again, silently reassuring him that they'd be okay, before she lowered her hand from his face, guiding him forwards.

Charlie followed after her, pushing open the portrait door, and allowed Hermione to exit ahead of him. After stepping out, he let the painting swing closed behind them as the candles inside the bathroom extinguished themselves.

"You never did say," Hermione began, once the two of them had faced each other in the dark deserted hallway, "when your last time was."

Charlie chuckled, fully aware, by the look on her face, that this question had been playing on Hermione's head since he brought it up.

Swiftly, Charlie leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Hermione's forehead, lingering, before he muttered his truth, "Our anniversary."

Hermione gaped at him, her heart thumping wilding in her chest. His words made her shiver, for it had been the first indication in six months that made her believe there was something so deeply rooted between them. It was unyielding, undying love that neither of them would ever be able to escape.

In that moment, Hermione realized that all of her bursts of jealousy were unprecedented and she bowed her head, silently ridiculing herself. After everything, Charlie was still hers, just like she was his... only his.

"I lov—"

"...cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled —"

To Charlie and Hermione's great surprise, there were unidentified voices coming from the last door down the hall. With great intrigue, Charlie crept over and pressed his ear against the door, Hermione following in his wake. Raising a finger to his lips, Charlie glanced weakly at Hermione before he crouched down to the keyhole, peering through.

Widening his eyes in shock, Charlie could briefly see the silhouettes of Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy in a heated confrontation, both looking evidently resentful.

"I didn't have anything to do with it, alright?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. You are already suspected of having a hand in it!"

"Who suspects me?" growled Malfoy angrily; Charlie had to cover Hermione's mouth with his hand, silencing her gasp at the blonde boy's abrupt aggression. "For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about — don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work!"

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "Ah... Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don't want you butting in!"

With a heavy gulp, Charlie pressed his ear still more closely against the keyhole, tensing at the mention of the Dark Lord... what had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this?

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? I know you're afraid, Draco. You attempt to conceal it, but it's obvious. Let me assist you —"

"I have all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes —"

"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!"

"Keep your voice down!" spat Snape, for Malfoy's voice had risen excitedly. "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing —"

"What does it matter?" barked Malfoy. "Defence Against the Dark Arts — it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts —"

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" shouted Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle —"

"They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!"

"Then why not confide in me, and I can —"

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!"

"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice so low now that Charlie had to push his ear very hard against the keyhole to hear. "I am just trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco —"

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it, I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. You are not thinking clearly, Draco. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but —"

Charlie had barely a second's warning; he heard Malfoy's footsteps on the other side of the door and flung himself and Hermione out of the way just as it burst open, pushing them into a nearby alcove, hidden out of sight. Before either Gryffindor even had the chance to acknowledge him, Malfoy was striding down the corridor, rounding a distant corner and disappearing out of sight.

Hardly daring to breathe, Charlie remained crouched down with Hermione as Snape emerged slowly from the classroom. His expression unfathomable, as he turned down the corridor in the opposite direction.

Charlie remained on the floor clutching Hermione at his side, his mind racing, Hermione's breaths quick, and both of their eyes transfixed upon the Dark Mark carved into Charlie's pale skin.

————————————————————

Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

...still mad at me? lol

I hope you enjoyed this *naughty* chapter 👀

[insert begging for comments and votes]

lots of love <3

xo, selena