Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the characters or anything associated with the Harry Potter universe. Mores the pity.

A/N: Hey guys! First time trying my hand at this pairing, can't seem to get the idea out of my head so I figured I'd best write it down. Fluffy one-shot, allusions to past smut but nothing too explicit. Just a bit of fun. Enjoy!

9/16 A/N: I can't tell you all how happy I am with the response this got! You all are the best, thank you. I've finally gotten a bit of time to comb through this and fix my errors, so this is now the revised version.

Charlie Weasly had never been so thankful for the reflexes he'd honed handling dragons as he was in this moment. The seething brunette across from him may have been abstaining from hexing him, thank Merlin, but she still had wicked aim with a vase. And a book. And he was fairly sure she'd thrown a shoe at him as well. She still had yet to stop screaming insults at him long enough to actually tell him why he was coming under fire. Until then, he would continue his tried and true dodging method, lest he wind up concussed.

"Hermione!" he yelled after a volume from her encyclopedia set left a sizeable dent in the wall too close to his head. What in blazes had her so worked up? "Will you stop already?! I can't explain or apologize if you keep screeching at me and trying to take my head off, woman!"

A flying twin to the first encyclopedia told him it'd been the wrong thing to say. She had a mean arm when she wanted to. "SCREECHING AM I? BE GLAD I'M NOT HEXING YOUR BOLLOCKS TO ARUBA YOU CARELESS FECKLESS TOSSER!" He knew it was inappropriate but seeing the brilliant witch incensed and hurling objects with deadly accuracy was kind of turning him on.

Nothing had ever been meant to happen between the two of them. She was always around his family and he knew most of them saw her as their sibling, but they had never formed that relationship since he was always in Romania. The first time they'd really had an in depth conversation was when he'd been at Hogwarts during her 4th year accompanying the dragons. He'd felt a bit protective of her and had made sure the Bulgarian courting her had shown her proper respect, but nothing more than that. Even in the years that followed, when they'd kept in fairly frequent contact through letters and later through activities with the Order, there had been nothing but a strong friendship between them. He respected her intelligence and loved her cutting wit. Having spent most of his adult life with dragons, he had little patience for people without any fire or teeth. Hermione had both in spades. And her heart was just simply good. She didn't put on airs or judge people for their faults. She was the most accepting, understanding person he knew. You wouldn't have guessed that now, given that he'd just dodged an airborne bookend, but still.

No, it wasn't until her graduation from her repeat seventh year that anything else developed. The whole Weasley family and Ginny's new fiance Harry, as well as most every surviving member of the Order, had shown up to celebrate the completion of her education. Charlie found himself prouder than he thought he'd be, more so than one would expect to be of the friend of their youngest brother. He supposed it was because he'd spent these years getting to know her more deeply than just as "Ron's little friend". Ron. Little tosser. He had been annoyed when Ron had treated her so callously but in all truth, Charlie knew she was better off without the git. Ron needed someone like their mother, who would cook and clean and have to bully him into achieving anything. Hermione needed someone with their own drive and ambition, who would challenge her instead of being cowed by her. If he felt like admitting it, he had also been a bit jealous because Ron had preoccupied quite a bit of his witch's attention for the better part of a year.

After her graduation, they'd all gone back to the Burrow for a celebration. Hermione had changed into a red dress worked through with subtle gold accents and looked stunning in it. At only a few months shy of 20, it was clear to see she was no longer the little girl she'd been. While the dress was far from vulgar, it played up her feminine assets to perfection. Her smallish breasts were snugly framed by the dark red material that then clung to her narrow waist and the spread of her hips, before flaring out into flame like ripples ending at her knees. The straps tied around her neck (bespelled with a sticking charm because she didn't trust Fred or George and had told them as much when they'd made to go for the tie) left her shoulders and upper back exposed, and the dress hugged her lower back and framed her surprisingly wonderful backside in a way that had made Charlies trousers uncomfortably tight the first time he'd caught sight of it when Hermione had leaned over to hug Bill and Fleur's daughter. He appreciated the female form in all its glory but he'd always had a weakness for a perfect arse. Everyone had complimented her on how the colors of the garment suited her so well because she was a Gryffindor through and through, but all he had been able see was a subtly sexy, confident woman, laughing as she danced around in dragons fire. Beautiful.

As the celebrations had died down, Charlie had decided to take a walk around the grounds to clear his head. He asked if anyone had wanted to join him and only a lithe figure bathed in flames had taken him up on it. They strolled around the edges of the property talking about everything from her career plans to his dragons, the conversation almost never faltering. When it did they simply enjoyed the companionable silence as they ambled along, their shoulders brushing every so often. It had been the best night Charlie could remember in a long time. As they came up on an old fort he and his brothers had made years ago, Hermione bullied him into first showing it to her and then casting a few cleaning charms so they could rest a bit. Inside was nothing special, a few beds and chairs from when they'd camped out in here as children, but it was nice enough for a rest, he supposed.

"So, Charlie. Are you ever going to make a move on me, or are you just going to keep drooling over my arse when you think no one is looking?"

He'd nearly choked. He hadn't realized he'd been that obvious and certainly hadn't expected her to be so forward about it. But then, of course she was. The woman was fearless and bold, of course she wouldn't stand for letting Charlie simply stare. Never one to back down from a challenge, he had recovered quickly and scooped her into his arms to press a determined kiss to his friend come lover. She had responded with as much fervor as he had, giving as much as she got. When he'd gripped her rear and ground her against him as they'd kissed, when she'd groaned her approval and nearly growled more, Charlie knew he was a goner.

That had been the first night in countless nights for them. It had started out as just sex between friends. They would slip off whenever they were both at the Burrow for a steamy tryst in the orchards, he would show up at her internship to steal her away for a hard fast ride during her lunch breaks, she would even make trips to the dragon reserve to see him where they wouldn't have an audience. Even when they weren't screwing each other hoarse, they were in constant contact. Their friendship never suffered for their interludes and other than much more explicit exchanges in their letters, it was much the same as they'd always been. After a night of slow, sensual passion in an open field under the star flecked Romanian sky, they had both confessed that their feelings had grown far beyond friendship and that they wanted to well and truly be with each other, and neither would accept no for an answer. It was wonderful.

That wasn't to say that in the 19 months that had passed since her graduation, 13 since they'd made it official, that they didn't have their share of problems. Their jobs were both time consuming and demanding, neither liked being apart so much. They were both had fiery temperaments and were stubborn to a fault. And of course the fact that they were still keeping their relationship from his family (how does a man go about telling his family that he is in love and involved with his brothers ex, who was seven years his junior) lead to insecurities on both ends. "What, are you ashamed to tell your family about me?" "I don't hear you running to tell precious Ronald that you're fucking his older brother." But no matter the how big the argument, no matter how hurt one or the other was, they'd always worked through to a compromise and then shagged each other silly in apology and acceptance.

The sounds of past moans during makeup sex, however, were being drowned out by the witch who was still screaming at him. Mercifully she'd stopped throwing things but she still had her wand and was still calling him all sort of things that surmised him as irresponsible and reckless. What in blue hell could he possibly have done to earn her ire at this level?

"HERMIONE!" he shouted, well and truly through with her behavior. "Either tell me what your bloody problem is or shut up already!" Perhaps that hadn't been the most prudent of word choices but damn it all, he could barely think! She narrowed her eyes at him in a way that he knew meant trouble was coming for him. Definitely bad word choices.

"What's my problem, Charlie? My problem is that my boyfriend thinks its okay to guess about the time frame of his contraceptive charms. My problem is that I haven't had a period in over eight weeks. My problem, Charles Weasly, is that I am PREGNANT AND IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

The whole world went silent for a moment, all Charlie could hear was the thud of his own hear in his chest. One beat. Pregnant. Another beat. "Oh."

The single syllable seemed to drain the fight right out of his paramour. "Yeah, oh." she said, sinking onto the couch behind her. "Charlie...Charlie what are we going to do? We... I'm not even 22, I just finished my internship a week ago! I'm not ready to be a mother! And your family is going to be furious with us for not telling them. Oh gods, my father is going to kill you. And how are we supposed to raise a baby together from two different countries, if that's even what you want? Am I supposed to quit my career when it's just starting? Are you supposed to give up a job you love? I'm so scared Charlie, I don't know what to do. I don't-" her tirade broke off as she dissolved into sobs. He was by her side in a second, pulling her to his chest and stroking her hair, whispering soothing nonsense in her ear while she rode the crest of her emotions. It gave him a bit of time to think.

Pregnant. There was a baby on the way, his baby on the way. He was going to be a father.

And Hermione wasn't secure enough in their relationship - in him - to think this was a good thing or to even know if he wanted it. It was true that at 28 he was a little behind the curve in terms of having children, but it wasn't that he hadn't wanted them. In fact, he had been incredibly jealous when Bill had announced that little Victorie was on the way. He loved children and the idea of fatherhood, but none of the witches he'd been able to tolerate enough to date had been anywhere close to someone he'd want to marry, let alone reproduce with. None of them were Hermione. He looked at the distraught brunette in his arms, still sniffling but spent of tears. Had he really been so lax in his reassurances of their love that she was unsure of him? How could he be so thoughtless? The fact that his brave, beautiful witch didn't know how serious he was about her, that she didn't seem to realize she was it for him, broke his heart. How can I make her see?

Leaning away from her, Charlie took her hands in his and waited until she made eye contact to speak. He needed her to know his heart beyond a shadow of a doubt. "Hermione Jean Granger. I cannot apologize enough for letting you think that you are anything less than the whole of my heart. This has never been casual for me. Even before that night at the Burrow, you were more dear to me than I realized. I love you, to whatever end and through whatever trials. What we have is precious, and so is the life you're carrying in you now. I know the timing isn't ideal but honestly, when is it ever? I am just as scared as you are, but I know that we can do anything we put our minds to. That includes raising a baby. I'm scared too but we can do this. Don't you trust us?"

She looked at him, her amber eyes full of love and tears, and said, "Of course I love you, don't be thick. I know we aren't casual. But I don't know what to do. How are we going to do this Charlie? You know how much I loathe uncertainty and parenthood is the height of it! We don't even live in the same country, let alone together. We don't have anything set in stone."

Looking at the beautiful woman who sat before him, who seemed absolutely radiant now that he knew she was carrying his offspring, Charlie decided it was time to come clean about just how many plans they really did have. He took a steadying breath and said, "Alright, I think I need to tell you the truth. No no don't panic, it's nothing bad I swear", he said as her face contorted into a wary glare. "I just... I've been waiting until everything was done to tell you. I'm moving back to London. The reserve needs someone to act as a go between for them and the ministry, and I applied for the position because I am so bloody tired of not being able to fall asleep with you in my arms every night. I already bought a house and everything. It's not the biggest but it's on a nice bit of land, and we can build it up if we need. My transfer doesn't officially go through until Thursday so I was waiting until our date on Friday to tell you. Move in with me, Hermione. Move in with me so we can live and love together, so we can raise our child together, so you can worry yourself sick when I teach him how to play quidditch in the back field. You don't have to quit your job, you know I'd never expect that from you. My mother will be over the moon if we ask her to babysit while we're working, and on the off chance that she's not, then we'll find a way to help you reach your dreams. I swear it. Just say yes, love. Let's do this."

Hermione had started crying again but they looked to be tears of joy. It would seem that he'd managed to put her fears to rest. She calmed her sniffles long enough to look at him and say, "You're going to teach him to play quidditch in the back field ey? That may prove a smidge difficult seeing as how our daughter is a she, not a he."

A daughter. She. A baby girl with the woman he loved. Charlie couldn't contain himself anymore, he picked his witch up and spun her around as his joyous laugh rang out. "She can learn just the same as a boy can," he assured her. "There's no way Gin would let any niece of hers think of quidditch as a boy's sport." Hermione looked a bit woozy after he'd sat her back down, and he felt a bit bad for jostling her about when he knew how sensitive pregnant women could be to motion in the first trimester. "You know, I had planned on asking you to marry me as well", he said tentatively. Hermione, who looked mildly panicked at the idea, promptly threw up all over his shoes. Charlie wasn't even mad.

25 years later

As Charlie handed his baby girl over to her new husband for their first dance and made his way back over to his wife, he reflected on where his life had lead him. As they'd expected, his family's first reaction was disbelief followed soon by anger at not being told about Charlie and Hermione's relationship, especially given how serious it was. When they dropped the bomb that she was a little over two months pregnant, all of the anger had disappeared only to be replaced by excitement and well wishes. Predictable, Charlie had thought, if there's one thing us Weasley's love, it's kids. He had been right as well that Hermione would refuse to even be engaged to him until much later, lest it seem like they were only getting married because she'd gotten pregnant. Neither his parents nor hers were thrilled about the idea of their grandchild being born out of wedlock, but none of them were stupid enough to try and make Hermione do anything she didn't want to do.

Complications during the delivery meant that Hermione couldn't bear anymore children, but surprisingly neither of them minded much. The two of them and their little Cordelia, with her wild halo of fiery auburn curls and amber eyes, felt like more than enough. It felt... complete.

They'd had their hands full with the little terror as soon as she had figured out the mechanics of crawling. Too much time spent with Uncle Gred and Uncle Feorge (as she called them) had planted a deep seated love of mischief in the angel faced hellion, who decided Cordelia was much too fussy a name and she'd rather go by Cora thank you very much. Charlie had tried pointing out that she had been named after his favorite Chinese Fireball and it was in no way a fussy name, but his daughter wasn't having it. She'd been the spitting image of her mother when she'd put her hands on her little hips and shook her mass of curls out of her face, which was beautiful even when twisted in indignation at her father, and had read him the riot act for being a hypocrite by going by Charlie instead of Charles but denying her the right to a nickname. So much like her mother it squeezed at his heart, and just like with her mother he'd given in to her demands and accepted a kiss on his cheek for his troubles.

The first time she'd gotten on the train to Hogwarts, he'd been a mess of nerves. But what if she has trouble making friends, Hermione? Or worse, what if she becomes a bully? You know how she can be at times. What if some little punk breaks her heart and we're not there to comfort her? Hermione had assured him over and over that their daughter could handle her own, and reminded him that Harry and Remus both taught at Hogwarts and she'd have her uncle's there should she need them.

He'd still worried, especially after they got word that she'd been sorted into Slytherin of all houses. But she'd also been the only first year in Slythein history to made a primary beater on the house quidditch team, so he couldn't be that mad. He even wore his daughter's house colors for her. After all, there wasn't much he wouldn't do for his girls.

When she'd stepped off the train at the end of first year dragging a little blonde boy by the wrist to come meet her parents, Hermione had quietly mused to him that they'd likely be seeing the boy for the rest of their lives. Charlie had never wanted to punch a 12 year old more. Especially after he learned that the little prat staring at his daughter as though she'd hung the moon was none other than Scorpius Malfoy. He didn't trust Malfoy's, too much history. Hermione had elbowed him into behaving though, and throughout their school years it became glaringly obvious that the platinum headed Ravenclaw was entirely besotted with Cora, and that she in turn would make anyone who messed with him rue the day they'd crossed the best friend of Cordelia Ginevra Granger-Weasley.

Charlie had also gained a new respect for the young man at their Hogwarts graduation when he'd punched his own grandfather, Lucius Malfoy, square in the jaw for insinuating that Cora was less than because her mother was muggleborn. It had cemented that he could trust the keeping of his only baby's heart to the Malfoy heir.

Which is how they'd got here. It had taken Scorpius 7 years of dating to get Cora to say yes to an engagement, and another 3 years still to get her down the aisle (what was it with his girls and refusing to marry the men they loved? It had taken Charlie another two years after the birth of their daughter to get Hermione to be his wife). But there they were, the 24 year old newly weds dancing their first dance in the center of all of their friends and family. Her curls had been left to run wild and they reached ever outward as her husband held her close and spun her about. His baby was happy. His wife was teary eyed but happy. That's all he could ever hope for. When the master of ceremonies called for all other married couples to join the pair in dance, they obliged. Charlie lead his wife out, tucked her to his chest, and swayed with her as he had done so many times before. She was wearing a dress very similar to the one she'd worn on her graduation all those years ago, and she looked just as good in this one and she had then. In Charlies opinion, at nearly 50 she still had the best arse he'd ever seen and the dress was displaying it wonderfully. How did I ever get so lucky? he thought to himself. But he decided not to question it. His girls were happy and loved, that was all he needed to know.

"So, Charlie," he heard his wife say in a low timbre that only they could hear, "Are you going to make a move on me anytime soon, or are you just going to keep drooling over my arse all night?"

A/N: And there we have it! I have never written Charlie and Hermione together but this story kept bouncing around my head demanding to be written. Please let me know what you thought!