Merciless Flirt

A/N: This should be interesting. I don't think I've floated this ship in ages if ever at all. Please leave reviews. This will be a work in progress.

You can do this, she thought. Her fingers trembled. The silverware in her palm was growing warm from her intense grip. It was just setting the table after all; a simple task that she’d done a hundred times or more while spending summers at the Burrow. Only this time she’d been asked to set the table with him. Another task she’d done countless times before, except lately he’d been the one to make her skin crawl. Stolen glances, nearly shameless flirting, merciless teasing; all of which never seemed to amount to much more than Hermione being in a flustered state every night that she headed to bed. This had been going on for nearly two months.

“Mum says we need a few more settings,” he called as he entered the backyard.

Hermione dropped the forks. They clattered against the large wooden table and two of them fell into the grass. “Ok,” she said. She bent down to pick up the forks only to have his hand cover hers in an attempt to help. “Thanks,” she muttered. And then she blushed.

“Couldn’t have picked a better night, I don’t suppose,” Charlie smiled. He set a small stack of plates at the end of the table. “She said to add four; Ginny and Harry said they can make it after all.”

“Right,” she said with a faint smile.

It had been several years since the war had ended. After the ministry had declared that it was officially safe Hermione had gone to Australia to seek out her parents. Unfortunately, with their memories modified they had seemed to move on quite happily without her. She had made the very difficult decision to leave them and their new baby behind; a part of her past that she would always fondly remember. At the time Molly had offered her a place at the Burrow, always having felt that Hermione was like a second daughter, and having nowhere else to go, Hermione had accepted.

She had never intended to stay for so long, but falling into a comfortable routine, and with no one else for family or friends, Hermione had made the best of it. During warm summer evenings Molly would hold family dinners. As many of her children and their significant others as possible would gather round the table and spend time together. Most all the Weasley children had married, Ginny and Bill even had children, and everyone had moved out except Percy.

Charlie, though he lived on his own in a flat not far from the Burrow— after having retired early from the dragon business— ran a shop with exotic creatures in Diagon Ally. He was the only Weasley still single. Bill had married Fleur and they had three children; Giselle, Jacque, and Alfie. Percy had come out of the closet and was seeing a young lad named Thomas, who worked for the Daily Prophet. Fred had married Angelina Johnson and had a set of twins; Alice and Lucy. George was engaged to Katie Bell. Ron had been married to a girl named Emma, was divorced and then remarried to a girl named Jane, who was pregnant. And Ginny of course had Harry and their toddlers, James and Lily. Hermione had no one.

“Think we’ve actually got everyone tonight,” Charlie said. “Let’s see…with Harry and Gin and the kids that should make…” he paused a moment, mulling it over in his head.

“Twenty-three.” She said.

“No, twenty-two,” he said.

“You’re forgetting to count yourself.”

“Am not. I’m forgetting to count you.” He teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, always the invisible Hermione,” she muttered.

Charlie approached the large wooden table, this time with a stack of soup bowls in his hand. “Invisible Hermione, I can’t see you.” He stepped toward her with his arm outstretched, soup bowls in hand. “Where did you go, I need help with these bowls,” he teased. The bowls banged into her shoulder. “Huh, there seems to be some sort of invisible force here.” Again he banged the bowls against her shoulder.

“Knock it off, Charlie,” she giggled stepping away from him.

“I can hear you, but I can’t see you.” He teased. Again he stepped toward her and knocked the bowls against her shoulder. She backed up only to be pursued once more, again the bowls meeting her shoulder. “Strange invisible force.”

Reaching over to the table, Hermione grabbed a fork and poked it against the salad bowls. “Cut it out, Charlie.”

“You’d need a knife for that,” he chuckled.

She tossed the fork back onto the table and grabbed a butter knife. Brandishing the makeshift weapon she prodded it against the bowls. Charlie tossed three of them onto the table, which crashed into a basket filled with rolls sending them to the ground. He held one bowl over his fist like a shield and grabbed a butter knife from the table, clanging it against her knife. The metals clashed against one another as Charlie and Hermione began to sword fight.

“I’m doing pretty good against an invisible opponent,” he mused. Charlie thrust the blade forward only to have it met against her blade.

“You also have a shield,” she smirked and thrust her knife forward, toward his shoulder. Charlie pulled back his bowl and blocked her attack.

“Back, vile invisible woman!” he shouted and thrust his knife again.

Hermione parried; stepping forward and back, engaged in full scale swordplay with miniature weaponry. She lunged with her knife and grabbed a salad bowl, forcing it hard against his makeshift shield. With a twist of her wrist and an upward jab she knocked the butter knife from Charlie’s hand. It clanged against the table before joining the up-turned basket of rolls on the ground. Their shield were pressed firmly against one another and Hermione smirked.

“Justice,” she said. Hermione thrust her knife forward and poked Charlie just under the armpit.

“Argh!” Charlie cried and keened backward. He tumbled to the ground and his shield rolled off his hand. He threw a hand over his forehead and wailed. “I’ve been struck down by the invisible Hermione!”

Grabbing another knife from the table, Hermione placed one foot lightly on Charlie’s chest. “Any last words, visible boy?” she teased.

“Yes,” he panted. Charlie gasped as if the butter knife tucked under his arm had actually pierced his heart and he were drawing his last breath. “Watch your foot,” he said.

“What?” Hermione asked. But before she could comprehend his words, Charlie seized her by the ankle and pulled her to the ground. The butter knife fell from her hand and landed somewhere beside them on the ground. She fell with a thud atop his chest.

“Charlie Weasley will not be beat!” he cried in great triumph. Without a sword or shield Charlie looked at his hands and then shrugged his shoulders. Both hands shot toward Hermione and began to tickle her ribs.

“No!” she cried. She began to wriggle and writhe on the ground, desperate to escape his tickle torture. “No! No! No!”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” he laughed and continued to tickle her. She had tried to back off him only to find herself pinned on her back beneath him while his fingers moved in a fury up and down her ribs and all the way up under her arms.

Hermione giggled and squealed, her head tossing from side to side. Charlie leaned over her face, still tickling her. “Had enough? Say I’m the greatest.” He boasted.

“Never!” she cried, but was unable to force him from her. Her face was growing red; she could stand little more of his long fingers wriggling against her body. Her summer dress left her arms bare and the sensation of his fingers against her skin was driving her wild, not to mention it tickled.

“Then you shall be tickled for all eternity!” he howled with laughter and moved his fingers faster.

“Sure thing, mum!” Ginny called as she entered the back yard. “Hermione, Charlie—” she paused gazing down at her brother and her best friend.

“Uncle Chawie!” cried Lily, who had accompanied her mother to the backyard. The little girl ran over and dove on top of Charlie.

“Oof!” he cried. Lily was all of three years old, but ridiculously strong for her age, and the tot had caught him off-guard. As the girl wrapped her arms around Charlie, he was forced to relinquish his tickle torture on Hermione, who quickly sprang to her feet and attempted to catch her breath.

“Saved by…the toddler…” she panted and leaned against the table.

“This isn’t over by far,” Charlie muttered and then scooped Lily up into his arms. “Lily!” he cried and spun her around over his head as he stood up. The little girl giggled and squealed. “My favourite niece!” he winked and kissed the girl on the head.

Hermione breathed in a deep breath. She turned her eyes to Ginny. With cheeks as red as her best friend’s hair, she quickly looked away. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Everyone’s here, I think.” Said Harry as he entered the backyard, little James holding his hand. “Hello, Hermione.” He smiled.

“Hi, Harry.” She returned his smile and then bent to pick up the scattered silverware, bowls, and rolls. Dinner was going to be long.