Hermione begins to live in the library as the exams approach. There aren’t enough hours in the day, even with the Time-Turner to help her. As she walks in one evening, she spots Percy at one of the tables, Head Boy badge glinting in the light from his Lumos spell, looking intent. She goes over to say hello, just to be polite. Besides, she’s just thought of a question about one of the fifth-year Arithmancy problems she’s been looking at – just to stay on top of things - and he might just know the answer. She’s almost at the table before he looks up and spots her, and he quickly shuffles the parchment he’s been scribbling on under a load of others. She’s not really being nosy, but she can’t help noting that the word Oliver appears a lot, scattered through the dense writing on the sheet, along with some other words that don’t really make any sense when put together like that. She almost asks about it, but he asks if he can help her, and she gets caught up in a discussion of the problem. The library’s closing before she knows it, and she hurries to Gryffindor Tower, forgetting all about the odd parchment.
Molly is much more observant than most people give her credit for. Her children at least generally seem to have some idea of her true abilities, but in some areas they seem uniquely blind. Fred and George, for example, don’t seem to realise that for every bag of tricks she confiscates, she allows them to keep two others that she knows of. There’s no point in crushing their dreams, and if that’s what they really want, then they can have it – as long as they work. Ron will never find out that after the twins charmed the old chess set into running riot, she spent hours setting it right rather than buying a new one, because she knew how much he loved it. And Charlie won’t know – until he decides to tell her – that she knows he likes men, but she’s ready to talk to him about it when he does. After everyone returns from the Quidditch Cup, she knows it’s time. At least he knows better than to be particularly surprised by her easy acceptance. She’s had some time to get used to the idea, after all.
Ron does a classic double-take when he realises just what he’s seeing. He’d asked Percy why their mother had been in such a flurry of cleaning that morning, and Percy had told him that Oliver, of all people, was there and would be staying for a while. He’d sounded oddly resigned, Ron had thought, but didn’t waste time wondering why. Percy was... Percy, after all, and he hadn’t a hope of understanding him. Charlie and Oliver were playing Quidditch, he’d realised, as he wandered out into the garden and heard their excited voices. On impulse, he followed the sound. It had stopped before he was near, and he approached the field in a sudden silence except for the sound of birdsong. He hadn’t quite been able to make sense of the shapes he saw at first, so he had paused at the fence to figure out what on earth they were doing, and he had, in the end. He creeps away again, unnoticed, mind whirling as he tries to come to terms with what he’s just seen his brother doing. His brother, and Oliver! He’s still trying to figure it out when Charlie leaves to go back to Romania, and Oliver goes back to Puddlemere. He keeps his eye on the Daily Prophet after that, and finds that he’s happy for Charlie when he sees Oliver doing better and better.
Jess enjoys watching Oliver. Just watching, because for all that she’s a well-respected player, she’s shy and plain, and has to work so hard for every smidgeon she improves, and he’s so good-looking, so outgoing, with just a hint of brilliance in his play. She watches him, surrounded by the other girls on the team, and by his adoring fans, every time the whole team goes out, to celebrate a victory, to console each other over a loss, or simply to have fun. She sits close enough that she can see his face, but not so close as to draw his attention, nursing the one drink she allows herself to buy, and watches him buy drinks for all the other girls, a wistful look on his face. One day, he looks over and catches her eye, walks to her table and offers her one of the glasses he’s holding. She blinks and smiles nervously, as if they’ve never met – and they never really have, for all that they practice on the same field every day. She plucks up her courage, asks if he’d like to sit down. Six months later, that wistful look crosses his face again moments before he asks her to marry him, and she blinks and smiles nervously again, and says yes.
Molly is sitting at breakfast with Arthur one day, the children all at school or work. He asks if she remembers Oliver, and she says she does, smiling at the memory of the summer, at how happy Charlie and Oliver had been. She’d already begun thinking of Oliver as another son. Arthur is happy for him, it seems - Oliver’s engaged. Molly’s heart breaks for Charlie even as she dissembles for Arthur’s sake. He hasn’t figured out the truth of Oliver and Charlie’s friendship, and she will not reveal it without permission. Charlie arrives home that afternoon, and her heart breaks all over again at the look on his face. He insists that it’s all right, that he’s all right, but she can see the ache in his eyes and pulls her tall, grown-up son into a hug unrelentingly, wishing desperately that she could protect him as she did when he was small enough to take on her lap. She doesn’t expect to see an almost-identical ache in Percy’s eyes that evening at dinner, and wonders how on earth she managed to miss that, and what she’s going to do about them both.
Ron sees the announcement in the Daily Prophet, and gapes in shock. Hermione reads over his shoulder and babbles about how romantic it all is, and how happy they seem, and look at the way they’re always holding hands in the photo. He glares balefully at it, and wishes he could tell her to shut up, only that would cause too many problems and mean too many explanations. He wants to write to Charlie, or do something, but he doesn’t know what he could say, and besides he knows that he isn’t supposed to realise that the two of them are more than friends. He can’t do anything, so he pushes the paper at Hermione, unable to face Oliver’s smiling face anymore, and strides out of the Great Hall, leaving his friends staring after him and wondering what had happened.
Molly watches Charlie and Percy go about their lives for five long
days,
both of them acting like nothing’s wrong, but both of them carrying
that
hurt look so clearly to her eyes. She wishes they would at least talk
to
each other, but she knows Charlie has no idea, and Percy won’t admit it
if
she spoke to him. On the fifth day she hears voices on the landing as
she’s
climbing the stairs to go to bed, hears Charlie invite Percy in, and
hurries
back down to wait a few minutes. Ten minutes later, she still hasn’t
heard
Charlie’s door open again. Very few people would understand her
allowing
them to do this, much less her intention to pretend ignorance for as
long as
it lasts. But she knows they need it, and she knows it’s not hurting
anyone,
and as long as it stays that way she will not interfere. She creeps up
the
stairs, past the door, leaving them undisturbed, hoping that this way
the
ghost of Oliver might be quickly exorcised, that they might find more
than
comfort in each other.
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