Lullaby for a Dragon

The Burrow was in a fluster of activity the summer after Hogwarts; Harry had achieved royal status after Voldemort's downfall, and the place was swarming with reporters keen on getting a segment in the Prophet, reporting important news, such as how Harry Potter liked his coffee. It was a Sunday afternoon, which meant (because of Mrs. Weasley's insistence) the house would be crowded with all of her sons, daughter, and Harry and Hermione, all anticipating a fantastic dinner in the backyard. And, as usual, Hermione had arrived early and was warding the reporters off, most notably Taffy Scheirkcnoff, who had taken Rita Skeeter's place as hated reporter.

"Get off the bloody lawn!" Hermione snarled at them. She was brandishing her wand; and of course, it was no secret that Hermione Granger was quite talented with a wand.

Oh dear. That sounded dirty.

Taffy Scheirkcnoff was muttering to herself, "Uproar as Hermione Granger, proclaimed most talented witch of the century and steady girlfriend of Harry Potter, threatened prominent Ministry members with various curses that she is widely known to have used on Death Eaters..." Hermione gave her a dirty look, and with a flick of her wand, hexed the young reporter to go blind momentarily as Hermione shoved her off of the lawn.

"Harry needs his privacy, and he is not public property," Hermione snapped to the group of shameless journalists. "He's not even here right now."

"Lies," a witch dressed like Trelawny hissed.

"I'll get you for this!" A male reporter roared from the background.

Hermione sniffed at him. "I believe you said that to me last week, Mister Kraft."

Of course, no one was crazy enough to act on their threats. If someone even turned a wand her way they'd be blasted into oblivion.

"Miss Granger," shouted one journalist who had not given up, desperate to reach his deadline. "Have you decided on a career yet? I hear that the Minister for Magic himself offered you a job underneath him as a personal assistant for a substantial yearly wage..."

Hermione momentarily abandoned cursing the reporters and said composedly, "I have declined the charitable proposition, and I will resume refusing employment offers from the Ministry."

"Why?" Someone shouted.

"As many know, the Ministry has been engaged in embarrassing scandals during the war effort. I do not wish to be associated with such a reputation, and nor has the Ministry regained my trust," Hermione retorted, glaring all around at them. The wizard who had asked the question was writing furiously. "Now leave," Hermione snapped. Pleased with having something to write about, the reporters began to disapparate.

A dark witch shouted through the cracks of the reporters and photographers apparating, "Are you dating Mister Potter?"

Hermione gave her a disgusted look, and with a quick wave of her wand, cursed on a pair of donkey ears to her head. "Get the bloody hell out of here before I finish the job of transfiguring you into an ass! Scoot!"

The witch scooted.

Mrs. Weasley came out the front door, and as the remaining reporters left, she smiled.

"Thank you, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley sighed, clearly relieved.

"No problem, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, smiling at her. "It's the least I can do."

"Posh," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at the girl who she very much wanted to be her daughter-in-law. "You get one hitched with one of my sons, all will be repaid."

Hermione turned into a nasty shade of red. "Oh, that won't be happening anytime soon, Mrs. Weasley," she said, following the plump woman into the kitchen. "I'll help you cook," Hermione added, rolling up her sleeves, and whipped out her wand before beginning on the gravy while Mrs. Weasley took on cleaning the vegetables. "Ron has been seeing that muggle girl from Canada lately- Sadie, I believe it is. He's been bragging about her to Harry all week." The two women rolled their eyes at this very Ron action.

"Yes, Ron's told me all about this Sadie character..." Mrs. Weasley sighed. "She sounds a bit... outrageous."

"Typical Ron," Hermione said.

"Really, now..."Mrs. Weasley said thoughtfully mid-wash.

"Ron tends to go for the more unruly girls..."

As Mrs. Weasley began peeling the potatoes with a complicated wiggle of her wand, she said suggestively, "I have other sons you know..."

If possible, Hermione turned even redder.

She was saved from replying to this suggestion as the door flew open, and Bill came in carrying twins in both his arms followed by a pregnant Fleur, who, if possible, was looking even more radiant than usual. "Hello Bill," Hermione said, putting down her wand as Bill greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Nice to see you again, Hermione," Bill said, smiling.

"You too," Hermione said, beaming back.

"What have you been up to?" Bill asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Charming the pants off of my brother?"

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Who, Bill? Be a little more specific," Hermione said cheekily. "You've got too many brothers..."

Bill just laughed and rumpled her hair.

Mrs. Weasley abandoned her peeling, and greeted her son, only to immediately begin berating him for dressing like the lead singer of a rock band instead of a father. Hermione held back a giggle as Mrs. Weasley began pointing her wand randomly at various bits of Bill, including his hair, his earring, and his boots. There was a restrained snort from behind her.

"Hullo Fleur!" Hermione said enthusiastically. "You look fantastic, as usual..."

The woman grinned at Hermione. "Pregnancy does that..." Fleur kissed Hermione on both cheeks- very French, indeed.

"How far along are you?" she asked, patting Fleur's bulging stomach.

"Five months," Fleur smiled.

Bill pried away from his mother, and held out one of his child-filled arms towards her, looking desperate. "Can you please take Dexter for me? My back is killing me... thanks, 'Mione..."

Hermione gladly relieved Bill of one of his children, and cradled him delicately in her arms.

"Hey handsome," Hermione cooed at the baby.

Dexter gurgled in response.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said apologetically, shifting her weight so the baby lay comfortably in her arm. "I'll have to drop out of the cooking early on..." She was cut off as Dexter's twin, Etoile, burst out crying in Bill's arms.

"That's alright, dear," she said, beaming at her grandchildren.

Mrs. Weasley thus immediately began fussing over Fleur, who was clearly relishing the attention.

"You're positively glowing, dear!" Mrs. Weasley beamed.

"Thank you," Fleur said. Hermione noticed that her English had improved dramatically. She supposed Bill's lessons had proved more helpful than they had assumed...

"What have you been craving?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sitting the French girl down, ignoring her oldest son who was now struggling with his daughter. "It's a good indicator on what the child will be like... I believe I have a book on the subject..."

Bill groaned at the mention of his wife's cravings, and Hermione suppressed a snigger.

Fleur grinned widely, and began, "Pickles with ice cream, and..."

Not keen on listening the probably lengthy list of strange foods, Hermione wiped her hands on her jeans, made her way to the living room with Dexter, and sat on the chesterfield happily, bouncing the infant in her arms. His hair was surprisingly not a Weasley red, like his father's, but a silvery blonde. Dexter was staring at her, slightly mistrustfully through his amber eyes, and was making uncomfortable gurgling noises that Hermione managed to quiet down with quiet baby talk and bouncing him on her knee. Though she would never admit it to anybody, Hermione really wanted a child of her own.

Dexter closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep, and Hermione contented herself on watching him. "You're going to be as handsome as your daddy," Hermione whispered to him.

The door suddenly banged open, and all Hermione's work was undone as Dexter burst into tears.

"Hello?" Dexter bawled even louder at the intruder's voice.

"I'm going to kill the bastard..." Hermione snarled, and began making comforting cooing noises in Dexter's ear.

It was Charlie Weasley that turned out to be the perpetrator, and he was oblivious to Hermione's dirty looks as he bounded into the living room.

"Hi Hermione," he said cheerfully, dropping himself next to her, and briefly kissed her on the cheek before rumpling her hair. Charlie picked up the squirming baby. "Hiya, Dexter," he added, grinning widely at the baby boy who gurgled happily in his uncle's familiar arms. "I think he likes me better," Charlie teased as Dexter's hiccups subsided.

"Are you sniffing Floo powder?" Hermione demanded playfully. "It's clear I'm the favorite."

"In your dreams Miss Granger," Charlie said.

"No, my dreams involve you and a whip," Hermione retorted, and immediately turned pink at her brazenness.

"I never knew you were kinky, Hermione."

Hermione forced a smirk through her mortification. "I can surprise many, Charles."

The pair rolled their eyes jointly at this usual tennis-game of wits and playful banter. Charlie returned Dexter back to Hermione's lap, and she shifted the infant in her arms so he was resting peacefully in the crook of her right arm. They sat in a comfortable silence as Dexter drifted off into an undisturbed sleep again; Hermione envied the child and his perpetual tranquility, unlike her own fitful sleeps.

"Where are Ron and Harry? I thought you lot was attached at the hip..."

"Mm," Hermione said unenthusiastically. "Ron's with his girlfriend, and Harry's meeting his girlfriend's father..."

Charlie wrinkled his nose. "Ron's got himself a girl?"

"You didn't know?" Hermione asked sharply.

"Clearly not," Charlie said, looking disgruntled. "Never tells me these things, the git. Well, who's the victim?"

"Some poor muggle girl," Hermione said, waving her hand carelessly.

"Really," Charlie said, looking surprised. "Odd, I thought he fancied you by the way he's always picking fights with you."

Hermione laughed. "Goodness no, that was ages ago."

"Oh," he said intelligibly.

"Her name's Sadie," Hermione added.

He didn't seem remotely interested in this bit of information, as he continued, "And Harry's got a girlfriend? I didn't think he'd have the time with the entire dark wizard chasing..."

"I didn't think so either," Hermione established. "Luna Lovegood of all people, too..."

"Lovegood," Charlie said, furrowing his eyebrows. "Sounds familiar..."

"Her father's the editor of the Quibbler," Hermione said. "They live around here too I believe- only a ten minute drive away..."

He looked incredulous. "I don't envy him," Charlie said. "Having to meet her dad... I mean, meeting a girl's dad is no picnic in the first place, but her father must be a real nutter if he runs the Quibbler." Charlie shook his head, and Hermione grinned widely as he expressed her exact sentiments. "Don't envy him at all..." Dexter squirmed a bit in his arms, but he quickly quieted him down.

"Don't let Harry hear you say that," Hermione smirked.

"Mm," Charlie said, smiling at Hermione. "Love makes people do crazy things..."

For some reason, Hermione's stomach jumped. Ignoring it, she slumped back into the chesterfield, and closed her eyes. She liked Charlie's company the best out of the Weasley boys. True, they had never had many chances to have a good conversation, but the few times she had talked to Charlie one-on-one, he was by far the most pleasant company. Hermione felt utterly comfortable with him, unlike Bill, who was so cool that he made Hermione feel ill at ease, and Percy, who was a prat and Fred or George, who both were far too juvenile...

In fact, Hermione supposed the reason why she liked Charlie so much was because he was a lot like Ron.

He was obviously not as immature or temperamental.

In fact, Hermione was quite sure that she fancied Charlie sometimes.

That was completely ridiculous of course.

Charlie stared at the starry sky. Dinner had come late, due to Ron bringing his girlfriend, Sadie, unexpectedly, causing to scare mum out of her wits. And since Sadie had no clue her boyfriend was able to cause things (such as the apocalypse) with the wave of a stick, mum was forced to finish cooking the muggle way. Oh, stupid Ron.

Ron's girlfriend would have to be a complete idiot not to notice all the blatant signs of wizardry about the place, though; wands laying about in the open for all to see, moving photos, books about household potion making and magical pest removal...

"Are you sure you don't want more, dear?" Mum asked from across the table.

"I'm alright," Charlie said, grinning at her.

"Just let me know if you want more, then..."

He patted his stomach contently, before peering around the table. Ron was still stuffing his face, and completely ignoring Sadie, who had given up trying to talk to him, but was instead in a deep conversation with Luna Lovegood, which could prove disastrous- Luna didn't seem to care much for the rules, so Charlie was sure that the Winged Kokopelli would turn up in the conversation sooner or later.

Percy was bragging loudly about his promotion to his latest girlfriend, Cassandra, who was nearly as pompous as he was. "Theorists predict that I'll be Minister for Magic come the next elections!" Percy boasted, pushing out his chest proudly. "I'll be the youngest one in a century if they prove correct- and they're usually right, you know..."

"Well I'm the youngest woman in history who is a qualified healer..." Cassandra shot back.

The two began to bicker about which one of them was better.

Bill had hardly eaten, but was instead trying to control his children, and Fleur was eating more than everyone else put together. Pregnant women certainly were strange, he observed as Fleur poured gravy over the jell-o that was put out for dessert. His dad and mum were arguing quietly about something or another, and Harry was deep in conversation with the twins, Angelina Johnson, Fred's fiancée, listening carefully, ready to pounce if she disagreed with what they were speaking about.

He looked over to the far end, where Hermione was staring absently at the sky.

He hair was held back into a clip, and there was a russet-colored halo surrounding her head. Luna Lovegood must have given her some tips, because like the blonde girl (who was now loudly explaining about the Crumpled-Horned Snorkack to an utterly bewildered Sadie), her wand was tucked behind an ear. Large hoop earrings that had not been there before was dangling from her ears, and her face was free of make-up, save a little bit of pink lip gloss. Her curvy figure was clad in a striped rugby shirt, and short shorts, her small feet pushed into heeled sandals.

In Charlie's opinion, Hermione Granger was looking very attractive.

He had met Hermione during her fourth year, and ever since she had never ceased to bewilder him...

The radio was blaring loudly in the kitchen when Charlie apparated to the Burrow. His boss, Mr. Plankton, was reluctant on letting Charlie take some time off that summer, but he had finally given in, and demanded a play-by-play on what happened at the quidditch world cup. The kitchen was empty, except for mum, who was (as usual) cooking up a storm, wand flying in all directions.

"Hi mum," Charlie said, hugging his mother from behind. "Where is everyone?"

"Hello dear," she said distractedly, pushing a bit of hair from her weathered face. "They're all out in the yard- poor Hermione..."

Charlie didn't bother asking who Hermione was, as he made his way into the extensive backyard. He was unsure of what he was seeing for a moment, as there was a huge flurry of movement as soon as he became visible to his brothers. Ron, Fred and George were chasing a girl around with a snake, who was screaming bloody murder (the girl, obviously, not the snake), and Percy was shouting his portentous swollen head off from his window about bottoms, and Bill and Ginny were ignoring the whole fiasco as they played an intense game of chess.

"Oh, come on, leave her be," Charlie said, grinning at them.

"Hey, look!" Fred said enthusiastically. "It's Chuck!"

As the twins and Ron became distracted and began greeting Charlie, the girl (who Charlie guessed was Hermione) quickly distanced herself from them. She was young looking, about Ron's age, but she had an air of superiority and intelligence that hinted at a mini-Percy in the making.

"Haven't died yet, have you?" Ron asked enthusiastically, pounding his brother on the back.

"Too bad," George supplied, pumping Charlie's hand up and down, and they all laughed.

"Now," Charlie said, making his way over to the girl. "Is this any way to treat a lady?"

"Charlie thinks he's a lady's man," Fred said to the girl.

George rolled his eyes. "We were only having a bit of fun..."

The girl crossed her arms and gave him a dirty look, completely ignoring Charlie. "Having a bit of fun, were you?" She shrieked. "That snake was poisonous. It was a class five fire-spitting red-back snake, and one bite would be fatal, causing me to die a slow and most painful death! The only antidote is an un-named red plant found in Africa!" She huffed as Ron, who was carrying the snake, immediately dropped it.

Charlie peered at her thoughtfully. "I'm in impressed- you clearly know your magical creatures."

The girl- Hermione, Charlie reminded himself- looked at him, startled. "Oh- well..."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Hermione knows everything about everything. It gets less impressive after a while..."

"I doubt it." Charlie said, and offered his hand to her. "Charlie Weasley."

"Hermione Granger," she said, taking his hand.

Charlie had a good change to look at Hermione now- her cheeks were flushed, but that didn't cover the liberal sprinkle of freckles on her nose. Her hair was brown and bushy, and it framed her thin make-up-less face. She had already developed a dark tan, making her look out of place with the army of speckled, pale Weasleys. Her long limbs were wiry and hips were wide- all of this was covered in an extra large t-shirt and rolled-up jeans. Underneath her long bangs and sweeping eyelashes, her brown eyes were flashing in perpetual thought.

Her hands were smooth and tan under his calloused and freckled ones.

"I think you're crushing her fingers..." Ron said.

Charlie quickly let go of her hand, and to cover his utter horror at checking out a girl seven years younger then himself, he looked up at the window where Percy was still hollering from, and roared, quite rudely, "Shut the bloody hell up, Perce, before I go up there and shove that report of yours up your-

"Charlie!"

He jerked up from his reverie. "Yes?" Charlie asked stupidly, tearing his eyes away from Hermione, who was bound to notice the second oldest Weasley ogling her like she was a bit of meat and he hadn't eaten for months. He felt himself turn red at the neck.

"Yes, mum?" Charlie asked in his most calm tone of voice.

She sighed, exasperated. "You're clearly somewhere else, so I'll excuse you from helping me with the dishes tonight..."

He smiled, and was immensely relieved to feel the blush die down. "Thanks mum."

"And dear," she said, smirking at him, and leaning towards him. "Good luck with Hermione Granger- she's quite the catch."

Just as he thought he had his reddening face under control, he turned a nasty shade of crimson, spluttered for a bit, and then quickly excused himself from the table. Bill was looking at him curiously, and Charlie knew he was going to suck it out of him before the night ended. Thank goodness no one had seen mum completely embarrass him. Wait- Charlie took that back. Hermione was staring at him with a confused look crossing her delicate features.

Cripes.

Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched into the house as Sadie was commending mum on her fantastic cooking. Unfortunately, cooking was the only thing she was remotely good at. She failed at everything else.

Her mother's intuition was dead, for one- fancy Hermione for Merlin's sake.

Sure, he thought Hermione was very pretty. He thought Fleur was very pretty as well, but that didn't necessarily mean he fancied her, now did he? And yes, he thought she was very intelligent, of course, but that was an understatement. The girl's been compared to Merlin himself. You see? Just because he thought Hermione Granger was attractive and smart, did not mean he wanted to snog her. Or do anything to her, now that he thought about it.

Not to mention he knew the girl hardly enough in the first place to fancy her.

Charlie looked at her from the kitchen window that faced the backyard.

Who was he kidding?

He was completely smitten with a seventeen-year-old genius.