"Charlie Weasley, if you don't get your feet off my table, so help me Dumbledore, I will curse you where you sit!"
Charlie laughed outright at the tiny mouse of a girl standing in front of him. He still moved his feet - Hermione might be small, but her curses were no joke. She was rather like his sister in that respect; two scarier women he couldn't imagine. Perhaps that's why the only two men up for the challenge of marrying the two of them were a Dragon Keeper and a Quidditch Pro. Of course, Hermione and Ginny were scarier than any dragon or Bludger - and that was when they were alone.
Together; he shuddered, refusing to dwell on it. The one time he'd seen them gang up on someone (namely his brother Percy) hadn't been pretty. He'd go to any length to avoid having that wrath heaped upon his head. And if that included taking his feet off the table for a few minutes - just until his favorite girl turned her back - then he'd do it. The curse would be bad, he knew, but it was nothing compared to the lecture he'd get.
Really, he mused, as he half-listened to his wife pontificating on the ways she would harm him if he didn't comply - she didn't need to go into quite this much detail. He pulled his feet down and grabbed Hermione's hands, pulling her into his lap and sealed her lips with his own.
It was the only way known to man to make her shut up.