AN: For Dear. Dark. Destiny's 3rd Annual Can You Write A Romance? Competition, and I have concluded that I don't think I can write a romance, or at least, not a happy one.

Blueberry-blue

The first time she met him, she noticed that he had kind eyes.

He had kind eyes (blue, like Ron's, except darker and kind of twinkly, like he was permanently laughing), shaggy, red hair, just like the rest of his family, and an enormous burn running up one forearm.

He held a door open for her, smiled, and told her that her hair was pretty whilst tugging on a curl that had come loose from her ponytail. And that was that. Suddenly she had a crush on Charlie Weasley, the boy with kind eyes and more gallantry in one muscled, burnt forearm than Ron had in his entire body.

A few hours later, when she'd been formally introduced by the twins- perhaps formally is the wrong word, considering they were the twins and had opened with, "This is Charlie. He's obsessed with anything fiery and likes apple pie," before proceeding to steal all of his apple pie- she felt like she'd known him his whole life.

He'd been in Gryffindor at Hogwarts, just like the rest of his family; he hated his freckles; he did indeed like apple pie and was not best pleased with the twins for stealing it; and he had gotten that big burn from a big, burning fireball sent his way by a Hungarian Horntail.

A tiny part of her, a part normally weighted down by school books, giggled girlishly at this.

By the end of the day he felt like a brother to her (albeit a very attractive brother who she quite liked the idea of doing naughty things to). She fell asleep dreaming of dragons and apple pie.

She spent half of her summer holidays with Harry or Ron or Ginny, and the other half laughing at Charlie as he was attacked by Fred and George, blushing at him when he pulled on her hair, which he seemed oddly fascinated with, and sighing over twinkling blueberry-blue eyes.

In other words, she was utterly besotted with him.

A few years later he still had kind eyes and a freckly face, but this time the burn was just a long, faded scar.

"May I have this dance?" he asked her, pulling her away from Ron and bowing with a tiny grin, and again she was struck by his gallantry, totally different from Percy's uptight intelligence, or Bill's cool suavity, or the twins' antics, or Ron's tactlessness.

"You may," she consented, allowing him to lift her from her chair with one hand, whirling her into position.

One of his arms settled on her hip and the other on her shoulder, and her skin tingled beneath her fluttery red dress where his callused hands touched it.

Over his shoulder she could see Ron watching, an odd expression on his face, and decided to make the most of it.

"Your hair is still beautiful," he whispered as they twirled amongst the couples on the dance floor (well, mostly couples. Luna was still swaying, alone, in the centre).

She blushed, "Thank you. Your face is still freckly," she teased.

"Oh, shush, you."

They danced a little longer, and then the song changed, became slower, and he pulled her closer. Her arms circled his neck and her breath hitched as he looked down at her, eyes suddenly darkening.

His nose was nearly touching hers, and the world seemed to still as he leant in, closer, as if to kiss her-

"May I interrupt?" Ron practically growled, pulling her back away from his older brother.

She sighed disappointedly, but let him, and Charlie disappeared into the folds of the crowd. It was a shame. Ron's eyes were light and a little blank compared to Charlie's.

A few moments later she was sitting down next to Harry, and then the message came, in the form of a shining, silver lynx which spoke in a glimmering, sparkling voice like fishes in water: The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.

A few seconds later she and Harry were pushing through the crowds towards Ron, and then, with a crack, they were gone.

But not before she caught the eyes of another redhead, whose eyes weren't kind anymore but terrified. Terrified for her.

The next time she saw Charlie he was blasting curse after curse at Death Eaters, with George and Percy and Bill and Ron and even little Ginny all by his side, roaring hell and with fury in his eyes.

There was only one person missing from this picture, one man who should have been cursing and hexing and blasting with them and that man was Fred Weasley. Fred Weasley, who was dead.

And for a second, just a second, she swore she saw somebody, someone stocky and red-haired and with a grin on his face, somebody squished between George and Charlie, who cast a cutting curse at a Death Eater preparing to strike down little Ginny, and then deflected a killing curse aimed at George.

Then he was gone, and all that was left was a memory, a memory of that laughing boy in George's face and Ginny's voice and Percy's smile and Bill's growl and Ron's ears and Charlie's eyes-

Those beautiful eyes that now shone with something else, something hard and cold and dark.

Charlie's eyes weren't kind anymore, she realised, and then she disappeared behind a tapestry to find Harry, because there was a war going on and now was not the time to cry over lost things.

There were nine Weasleys in the Great Hall that day, eight of them quiet but one laughing. Fred Weasley died with a smile on his face.

She joined them, shuffling between Charlie and Ron, head bowed. They didn't acknowledge her, didn't turn to look or speak, but let her stay, because she was family too.

Her hands itched to reach out, one to Ron and one to Charlie, but she dared not, for fear that it would cross a line.

Charlie's kind eyes and his easy laugh and his gallant grins had all disappeared, replaced by tears and blood.

She looked to Ron, who did reach out to her, and she pulled him into a hug, a great, heaving hug, until all of the Weasleys joined in, all of them circling the dead boy on the floor.

The last time she met him she noticed he had kind eyes.

They stared up at her from the pews as she stepped out in her white dress, clinging to her father for dear life as he walked her up the aisle to where Ron was standing, waiting for her.

The ceremony passed in a blur of vows and blueberry-blue eyes, although she wasn't sure whose blue eyes.

She took a deep breath, and then, before she said the words 'I do', she thought of him and his kind eyes and his burn scar. She wondered what would have happened if they'd kissed at a wedding that was long forgotten now.

She locked on to Ron's blue eyes and smiled.

They were blue too, and these blue eyes would have to be good enough for her.

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley

Other characters: Ron Weasley, Fred Weasley

Genre: Romance/Angst

Rating: T (for mentions of death and violence)

Prompt: Gallant

RisingFire