The low-level sound of the neighbour's alarm clock roused Hermione from a sound sleep, and she raised her arms to stretch before getting out of bed for work. As she arched her back, her shoulder blades reminded her that they were sore, and as if a mediwitch had finite'd a Confundus jinx, Hermione remembered the night before; even better, she remembered that she wasn't alone in her bed, and in all likelihood, would rarely be alone again.

She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes; morning light filtered through the imperfect meld of her draperies. She and Charlie had been in a hurry the night before so there was quite a bit of light, enough for her to really look at him without disturbing his sleep. He was lying on his side, facing her, so his breathing was regular and quiet.

For a moment, she pondered the differences between the two loves of her life. Charlie's snoring was truly something to joke about, and she almost laughed remembering Molly's understated, it can be quite loud, dear but all in all, it was something Hermione could manage even if he woke her sometimes when he flopped onto his back. Unlike Ron, Charlie didn't look like a little boy when he slept; and that comparison carried to the core difference between the two men. There were squint lines at the corners of Charlie's eyes, testament to his sense of humor and his profession, and the dark shadow of his beard gave his face an appeal she'd never discovered in any other man. On one shoulder was the shiny patch of skin from a wound which hadn't healed well; very delicately she traced its outline, and to her surprise, but not startlement, a narrow green-gold face curved into view, its eyes firmly fixed on the looping path her finger travelled.

An upwelling of tenderness threatened to bring tears to Hermione's eyes, and she smiled at the tattoo, it dropped its chin in what she'd come to realise was a draconic grin. He disappeared as Charlie took a deep breath and rolled onto his back, leaving Hermione's hand hovering mid-air. She retrieved it, yet inexplicably, her eyes still brimmed with moisture. There was no hint of sadness on her horizon to account for tears of any sort, with the possible exception of Ron's irritating, gnat-like persistence. She felt her own tattoo roll out of its sleeping position, as if to remind her that her body was on a schedule even if she might not be, so she slid out from under the covers. It was cooler in London than Bucharest, and she grabbed Charlie's abandoned shirt from the night before, buttoning it as she padded into her loo and thereafter the kitchen.

"Good morning, Tiria," she said to her new companion.

"Oohu-oohu," the orange-eyed bird called softly in reply.

Hermione popped up on her tip-toes and opened the window over her sink, knowing that her owl would most likely feed in the early morning or at dusk. Tiria sidled along the sturdy perch, opening her black bill to gently nibble Hermione's finger in thanks, then she leapt into the air and soared out the kitchen window, opening her wings to their full extension only when she'd cleared the casing.

"Handsome owl."

It was a man's voice, but it wasn't the one Hermione expected to hear.

Heart racing, she spun on the balls of her feet and practically shrieked. "Harry!"

Despite the seriousness of his expression, her friend couldn't contain his mirth. "Sleep well?" he asked with an entirely too knowing grin.

"Harry!" she exclaimed again, and quickly reached beyond him to close the kitchen door, hoping she hadn't woken Charlie. "What are you doing here?"

"Be glad it wasn't Ron today."

"Today?" Her voice squeaked as she considered the possibility of its having been her ex-fiancé to discover her in a state of dishabille.

"One of us has been dropping by every couple of days just to make sure your security hasn't been breached."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "Harry James Potter, that's pure sophistry. You know better than anyone just how secure my flat is."

"Nice legs," Harry commented.

Hermione blushed hotly, uncrossed her arms and tugged Charlie's shirt down, wishing she'd at least bothered to put on some knickers. "You're not supposed to notice."

"Married, not dead, remember? And that actually brings me to the subject of my call. I'm glad you're here. I knew you'd be back at least once, and if I hadn't found you I was going to leave a note before visiting your parents."

"Is something wrong? Is Ginny all right? James?"

"Everyone's fine. I just wanted to warn you that Ron isn't taking this whole you and Charlie thing very well."

She might have laughed, but he'd been the one harassing her colleagues so he wasn't above reproach either. "And you are?"

"Yes, well, I've had some time to think," he said sheepishly.

"You mean Ginny's given you the rough side of her tongue." And then Hermione bit her lip because her mind automatically imagined what the rough side of her own tongue could do to her sleeping lover.

Harry snickered.

"Stop that," she admonished, and then busied herself by adding water to the kettle.

He raised his hands as if absolving himself of any culpability. "Hey, you're the one who said it, not me." Even though she wasn't watching him, she felt his cool appraisal. After flipping the switch to heat the water, she faced him, unashamedly meeting his serious green eyes. He said, "Besides, I think I've decided Charlie's good for you."

Her smile wouldn't be contained and she asked, "Really? What's changed your mind?"

"It's not that I've ever objected to Charlie; it's just that I don't want to see you hurt again. I know, I know, it's not really my business."

"No it isn't, and you must stop harassing my boss! Baden Nott says Meg's about to commandeer your services for dueling practice." She pulled two cups from her cupboard, and then a third when he nodded at her unvoiced query. Next, she set plates on a wooden tray and dropped four slices of bread into the toaster.

"My dueling certification is current. If Madam Croaker asked I'd certainly participate. You know I believe in departmental cooperation."

"No, Harry. She wants to use you as the target," Hermione responded dryly.

"Oh." He pushed his fingers through his tousled hair, a habit from his too brief childhood.

"You don't have to harass the poor woman. I'm here now so you can say whatever it is you didn't cover the last time you yelled at me." The water hissed and Hermione bustled about the kitchen pulling out coffee and a company-sized French press. She had a feeling she'd need the extra caffeine buzz in her system.

"Actually I'm not going to. I've changed my mind, and it has nothing to do with the fact you're getting married."

"You aren't? You have? It doesn't?"

Harry laughed, and with practiced ease he retrieved the butter, marmite, and preserves from another cupboard. When the toast popped up, the two friends carried it, the condiments, and the coffee into the sitting room, Harry placing the tray with the cups, plates and French press on the low table.

Harry settled into his favourite seat, the corner of her squashy couch, the one which gave him a view through the windows. He never sat with his back to a window - one of the side effects of having been an Auror for five years and on the defensive for most of his life.

Hermione poured his coffee -- three sugars and no milk -- and then handed him the cup. He set it on the table while he spread preserves on a piece of toast. Next, she poured her own coffee, adding liberal amounts of milk, no sugar, and took a seat on her navy blue armchair, smoothing Charlie's shirt into discreet place. "Now tell me."

"As I said, I've decided Charlie's very good for you."

"Do tell, Potter, and while you're at it, you can also tell us why you're here at seven on a Friday morning?" Charlie ambled into the room wearing only his trousers from the night before, crossing the wide floor to give Hermione a kiss.

Her fingers slipped behind his neck to play with the hair at its nape, and when he broke the kiss, she murmured, "Good morning, love."

"Morning." He helped himself to coffee, inhaling the rich aroma of Sumatran beans, before taking a position within arm's length of his fiancée, leaning against the near bookcase.

"Hullo, Charlie," Harry greeted the dragon keeper. "It's good to see you; although I hadn't quite imagined seeing so much of you. Still..."

"Next time you might want to Floo first. That way you won't see anything you shouldn't."

"Charlie!" Hermione poked his thigh and he chuckled. "Although, he does have a point, Harry. You could have Floo'd."

"In the future I will." He popped the remainder of his toast into his mouth and said through his bite, "I should be going."

"Actually, I'd like to hear your reasons for changing your mind about us." Charlie set his coffee cup on one of the shelves before plucking Hermione from the chair, taking her place, and settling her on his lap.

Hermione leaned into him contentedly, and Harry watched the interaction with avid eyes, his lips twitching.

"What?" his best friend asked.

"I had my doubts about this-" Harry indicated the two of them, "-being a good thing. Your reputation precedes you, Charlie."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Charlie swore.

"Let me finish." For the first time there was steel in the Boy Who Died's voice. "Ron told me a lot about your past and I didn't want you to take advantage of Hermione. Trust me, mate, I never want to cross wands with her, and there's no one I'd want at my back more, but her heart is a different matter. She doesn't have any brothers but me."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly as Charlie exclaimed, "You should talk to Krum!"

"Krum? Viktor Krum?"

"Yes," she said. "We had dinner with Magda and him the other night."

"And to set your mind at ease, Harry," Charlie added, "after Ron took off for Italy, it was Krum who infected him with that -"

"No!" Harry interrupted, a wide, malicious grin altering his expression into one George Weasley would've recognised in the mirror. "He didn't! It was Krum?" And then he started to laugh. "Ron may be my best friend, but he deserved it."

"Will somebody please tell me what Viktor did to Ron?" Hermione whinged. "You all talk about it cryptically, but no one will ever give me an answer."

Harry's cheeks reddened. "It's a guy thing, Hermione."

"So? Didn't we live in a tent together for months?"

Charlie kissed her temple. "We can discuss it later. I'm more interested in why Harry's changed his mind about us; besides, don't you have a question to ask him?"

She smiled at her redheaded lover. "That I do."

"What's the question?" Harry asked.

As Charlie grabbed his cup of coffee, Hermione crossed her arms and demanded, "You first. Explain your change of heart."

Harry cocked his head and pursed his lips for a moment. "It's obvious that you're happy."

"And you can tell this from finding me in my kitchen at seven in the morning wearing nothing but Charlie's shirt?"

"Exactly."

"I don't follow," Hermione said, but Charlie nodded his head. "I imagine you're not a half-bad Auror, Harry. You're pretty observant."

"Wait! What are you two talking about? I hate it when I don't know what you're talking about."

The two wizards shared a universal male bonding moment, then Harry said very gently, "It's your scar, Hermione. The shirt is unbuttoned far enough for me to see several inches of your scar."

Hermione had stiffened at the first mention of her scar, but then she'd relaxed, her fingers tracing the ridged tissue across her breast bone. "I didn't realise."

"And that's the whole point, isn't it? You didn't even think about it. I've never seen you so at ease before."

Hermione smiled. "You're right. I am happy."

"And it shows."

When Charlie tightened his arms around her, Hermione craned her neck to rub her cheek against the stubble of his unshaven jaw.

"Before this little public display becomes something I shouldn't see," Harry commented dryly, "perhaps you can ask your question."

Hermione's eyes sparkled. "If you and Ginny can find a sitter for tomorrow night, we'd like you to come to Bucharest to celebrate our wedding."

Harry's smile was eager and his enthusiasm coloured every word he spoke. "You have to ask? Of course we'll find a sitter. And if we can't find a family member, Ginny and I both trust Kreacher for an evening."

"Wonderful."

"Who else will be there?"

"Molly and Arthur, my mum and dad, and we're asking Bill and Fleur to come too."

"Viktor and Magda Krum as well," Charlie added. "Since we'll be living in Prague most of the time -"

Harry leapt from his seat. "Prague! What the hell do you mean you'll be living in Prague? What about the flat? What about your friends?"

"Calm down, Harry." Hermione sat up straighter but didn't attempt to leave her perch on Charlie's lap. "I'll still be at the Ministry every day, and Charlie's new position means we'll be in London for a week or two every couple of months. Besides, you can come visit us, our apartment has a guest room, and there's the library ."

"Wreck room," Charlie interrupted.

"Hold on!" Harry said. "You've already got an apartment? Haven't you only been seeing each other for a week?"

Charlie and Hermione laughed at his expression. Charlie said, "Two weeks. Don't you know yet that when Hermione sets her mind on something, she doesn't waste time."

"That's true. She's pretty tenacious, that one." The Auror calmed down, and then chuckled. "You'll want to watch yourself, Charlie."

"Hmph!" Hermione sniffed when she felt the rumble of Charlie's responsive appreciation of Harry's comment, but asked, "So, will you come?"

"Of course we will. I assume you don't want Ron to know."

"Not yet."

"What about the rest of the family?"

Hermione fielded the question. "If Ron wasn't being so intrusive, we might've had a family only wedding, but..." She held up her hands in a what can you do gesture. "We originally planned to be married with just our parents there, but Charlie wanted Bill as his best man, and I wanted Ginny to stand up with me, so..."

Charlie took up where she left off. "We're sending an owl to Percy and George explaining our reasoning and inviting them to the party next Saturday."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Harry grumbled.

"Problem?" Charlie's tone lilted the word into a question.

"No problem, only Ginny's got the entire living room covered with menus and seating charts and drafts of invitations and samples of linens. I had hoped never to have to make any of those decisions again."

Hermione laughed at his grimace, but managed to say, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You know she wants to do this, and it's not really so bad. I wouldn't do it for anyone but you."

"Thanks, Harry."

A softly hooted, "Oohu-oohu," came from the kitchen, signaling Tiria's return, and Hermione scooted off Charlie's lap, tugging the shirttails down as she rose to her feet. She stooped to give him a quick kiss before addressing her dark-haired friend. "I don't want to rush you, but we have some letters to write and we have a lot to do today."

"That's fine. I have to get to the Ministry. Can I use your Floo?"

"You don't need permission for that!"

He crossed to the fireplace. "Where and when tomorrow night?"

"We're not sure of the restaurant-" Hermione wandered out of the room, but her voice carried down the hall as she retrieved something from the desk in her bedroom, "-but we've planned for everyone to meet at the apartment in Bucharest around six-thirty. Is that all right?"

"Fine," he called after her as Charlie, too, gained his feet.

When she returned to the sitting room Hermione handed Harry a slender, seamless bracelet with the words Trek Romania embedded in the green plastic. Her smile was mischievous. "This one's yours."

Harry laughed. "Are they all colour coordinated?"

Charlie chuckled. "What did you expect?"

Hermione ignored their levity at her expense, as if Charlie didn't make lists and notes of his own. "It's set to activate at five-twenty tomorrow evening. Remember, Romania's an hour ahead of Somerset."

"I remember. I'm a grown wizard now. I can even do Wingardium Levi-O-sa and everything."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but Harry pulled her into a one-armed hug. "I'm very happy for you, 'Mione. I'd try to keep Ron off your trail, but I think I'll have to avoid him for a few days."

Charlie clapped Harry's shoulder. "It's only 'til Monday. Considering how much he upset Jean and Henry, we don't want to chance his barging into the ceremony telling the priest he has just cause why we can't be married."

"Bugger! He didn't?"

"He did." The redhead nodded sharply.

"It was pretty shaky for a bit, but Charlie won them over." Hermione slipped her arm around her fiancé's waist and he snugged her close to his side.

"I'll find something to take me out of the office today. The weekend is easy - we can always claim that James has a cold or something. Ron avoids us like Dragon Pox whenever James is sick. Of course, Percy does that as well."

"Yeah, but Percy's not really a great loss, is he?" Charlie replied.

"Hey! I like Percy," Hermione said. "Mostly."

Charlie scoffed. "It's that other bit which makes him difficult to take."

"He's still a bit of a pillock," Harry said.

With final farewells, the Auror withdrew his oft-repaired wand and pointed it at the fireplace. " Incendio! " Then he threw a handful of gritty Floo Powder into the flames.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione said, "That's it!"

"What?"

"I'm amending the Privacy Charms right now. I don't want any more unexpected guests - especially Ron." She glanced at the clock and squeaked, "Is that the time?"

Charlie groaned. "It is. You adjust the Charms and shower while I write to George and Percy. By the time I've finished and given the letters to Tiria you should be dressed, and I'll take a quick shower then."

Hermione huffed. "Now I'm irritated with Harry."

"Whatever for?"

"I had plans for that shower," she said as she went in search of her wand. Her voice filtered into the sitting room. "Plans for you in that shower. Another one of my long-standing fantasies."

"Would I be put off by this one?"

"Not this one." Her voice was muffled. "I didn't have this one until after I moved in."

"Next time," he called, retrieving pen and paper from her bookshelves and settling on the couch to write to his brothers.

He heard the water turn on, but then Hermione raced into the room completely nude. Charlie's eyes lighted on her scar and the fact that she wasn't hiding it at all. He grinned proudly at her.

"Viktor," she said. "We have to write to him and Magda."

"You can do that when I'm in the shower."

"Good. Then we should come back here after Gringotts and any other little errands we want to run this morning, then we'll take Tiria back with us when we Portkey to the apartment. That way her trip to Prague won't be as exhausting for her." She noticed his almost glazed look. "What?"

"Breakfast was a bit scant, and you look good enough to eat. So, unless you want to be late for our appointment, you'd better get that bum of yours in the shower."

Her reply sounded sultry, but it was only because she couldn't quite draw a full breath. "You do know how to set your priorities, Mr. Weasley. If the meeting wasn't so important, I'd..." She winked at him and returned to her shower.

Charlie adjusted his tumescent response to her lush body and applied himself to his self-appointed task. Dear Percy , he wrote, reflecting that nothing could kill his incipient arousal faster than writing to his most punctilious sibling.