#Charlie Weasley x oc
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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (5/??)
CHAPTER DIRECTORY
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A/N: Thank you guys for the sweet comments! I love reading them and they make me write faster, apparently, haha. Let me know if you have any predictions! I'm super curious. ;)
CHAPTER 5: You get a lot more than you bargained for when Charlie shows up at dinner. For one, how does he manage to make politics, sexy? (4.7k words)
CHAPTER 5: ELECTRIC POLITICS
You were cloaked in warm and well slept-in sheets. You nestled yourself in that comfort for another moment before turning onto your back and cracking an eye open. Above you was a familiar tall and white ceiling. Yep, you were definitely back in your bed. It was always in the earliest of mornings that for the briefest of moments, your mind was inclined to forget what had happened the night before. As your lucidity grew, figments of last night came to you slowly.
You were at a bar with Charlie, talking about plans…
…That he shredded.
Right, that happened.
But had it all been a dream? Maybe it was still the morning after that disastrous dinner and your subconscious had plotted out the past couple of “days”.
You pulled your covers off and stared at your naked kneecap. There was a light bruise, a pale spot of red, from when Charlie was trying to ‘gauge’ your limits or whatever he’d called it. To think he’d left a mark by just casually holding your knee in his hand, not even intently putting pressure on it. To think if he’d done anything with intent…
“Get a grip on yourself,” you chastised, fanning away thoughts that were too lewd for the morning. You were growing annoyed with yourself after losing every shroud of strong-headedness you had. Charlie was just attractive and confident. But so were thousands of other men in the world, so why did he get to control your narrative last night?
You exhaled, resolving to think about it later, then walked over to the closet to dress for the day.
Narcissa was the only one in the sunroom when you arrived. It looked like your father and Draco had already had breakfast and gone off to do whatever the day asked of them.
“Good morning,” you greeted, slipping into your chair.
“You got in late last night,” Narcissa responded.
You shrugged. “It was Friday, and I’m young.”
There was a wrinkle of disapproval on her mouth. By now, Lucius would’ve told her about Charlie and about your little scene last weekend at the cafe, and she would’ve filled in your whereabouts last night with that information.
She looked out the garden and then back at you. “What does your schedule look like in a month’s time? Say, the second Sunday of October?”
“I imagine it’s free.”
“You best keep it open, then,” Narcissa continued. “My monthly book club is inviting a prolific author for tea. I would like you to join us.”
“Oh?” She’d certainly piqued your interest. “Who?”
“Madame Millicent,” she said. “She’s been praised as the face of female empowerment in the literary world.”
Female empowerment. This was exactly what you needed after you let Charlie throw you around like a rag doll, falling docile to his every touch and word. Hm, maybe having tea with this Madame Millicent wouldn’t be so bad.
The problem was that you hadn’t even heard of her. “What should I read to prepare?”
“That’s up to you,” Narcissa advised. “Choose a title of hers that interests you. She has three titles out now. I have everything in the study.”
You nodded. You had about a month which gave you more than a week to clear each book.
You had your coffee and pastry with a side of small talk, chatting with your mother about mundane topics like what her book club was reading this week and what she was doing this weekend.
Before you knew it, it was Friday afternoon, the day before the dinner. This day in particular, you found comfort in sitting on the couch in Fred and George’s flat with free use of their owl, writing letters to Charlie. This old rickety couch was now your favourite creative outlet, you supposed.
You hoped Charlie wasn’t fickle in his decisions, so you had to confirm he would be present tomorrow.
Hi, Charlie We’re still on for tomorrow?
Of course.
What are you wearing
Just then, a loud explosion sounded outside. Your jerky response drew out the 'g' in your sentence. You set the quill down on the coffee table, walked to the main door, opened it, and looked to the room adjacent to the flat.
“Are you alright?” you called out into the abyss.
You saw a thumbs up against a plum of black smoke, so you retreated back to the couch. When you returned, the letter was gone along with the owl. Minutes later, the owl returned with another letter.
I don’t have to tell you how improper that sounds, (Y/N). I’m saving this letter for a later date.
You wrote back with a reddening face.
You know I mean for this Saturday. And burn it, please.
The same old thing I always do. Is that okay?
An attire of a jean jacket thrown over a comfortably worn t-shirt would make your classist father curl with rage. It was perfect.
Of course. Remember, we’re at 8 Estates Lane and dinner starts at 6 p.m. If you end up at 6 Estates Lane, you may encounter Cecile, a widow, who’s just getting over her late husband. She’s still healing, so best to leave her alone.
Got it. See you at six tomorrow, (Y/N) darling.
In the time it took to read Charlie’s letter, Fred had tiptoed in and peered over your shoulder.
“Why don’t you just talk to him in person?”
“Because,” you sighed, turning around to poke him in the face with a quill, “You make fun of me when I come over now, and Charlie doesn’t seem to like to play by the books.”
“What do you mean?”
“He shredded my script last Friday.”
‘And touched me in places he shouldn’t have, and nearly kissed me, and made a fool of me in retrospect,’ you thought. But you wouldn’t tell Fred that was why you were nervous to see Charlie in person: because of whatever spell he’d put on you last time.
“It wasn’t good anyway,” Fred remarked honestly.
You furrowed your brows. You poured your heart and mind into that thing! “What do you mean?”
“You were writing lullabies. I almost fell asleep listening to them.”
“This is the least I can do to ensure some consistency,” you argued. “I won’t convince anyone at dinner if I act just as shocked as my parents.”
“Charlie isn’t going to be boxed in by whatever the rules are. He just does what feels right to him at the time, and his intuition is often correct.” Fred threw his arms up in defence after seeing your increasingly perturbed expression. “But don’t ask me, Bill knows him way better.”
“I’m sure, seeing they’re, what, two years apart?”
“They’ll tell each other everything, anything,” Fred added. “Actually, you should ask Bill if you need any blackmail material to keep Charlie in line.”
You were about to agree, but that thought was interrupted by an owl flying into the open window and pecking at you. You stared at the animal quizzically. Unless Charlie was continuing your pretty much finished conversation, then who was this for? You slit the ribbon and unfurled the parchment. Immediately, you noticed the penmanship was different. Neater. Crisper. Like it was written by someone who needed their numbers and figures written crystal clear, say, someone whose profession might be that of a bank official…
(Y/N),
Charlie is wearing a black sweater and grey sweatpants. I heard you were curious as per your last letter.
Sincerely,
Bill Weasley
Noticing your mortified expression, Fred was quick to snatch the letter out of your hands. Immediately, his braying laughter filled the room.
“I told you they tell each other everything!” he boasted.
For the third time this week, you were sure you were parading about a sinking ship.
Tick, tick.
5:58 p.m. on Saturday evening, Lucius crossed one leg over the other, looking expectedly at the circular driveway that wrapped around a marble fountain outside the main entrance. He set his cane aside and adjusted his tie, a black piece in his suit of all black.
5:59 p.m., Narcissa tapped her fingers on her stocking-clad legs. She, too, took to a dress of all black. The only colour on her body was an emerald brooch.
6:00 p.m., a wave of nausea overtook you. You fiddled with a button on your white textured cardigan that you slipped over a black pleated dress.
6:01 p.m., Draco, dressed like his father, let out a scoff at your expense. Pitiful was the sound and wounded was your ego.
“So,” Lucius’s voice cut through the tense air. “Where is Charlie?”
You blanched, at a loss for an explanation. He’d promised you he was going to be here. You had written proof, but it would have no standing in your father’s court of law.
“Well?” he urged.
“Probably weaving his way through the forest,” you excused with as most conviction as you could muster. “It’s not easy to find such a remote location, especially a mansion on Estates Lane.”
Draco looked at his silver watch on his wrist and let out a sound of competent. “He’s already five minutes late. But I wasn’t expecting anything more from a Weasley, anyway.” Then, he suggested something you didn’t want to hear. “Father, how much longer should we wait before we call off this dinner? You and I have more important things to deal with anyway.”
“I’ll give it—”
Lucius was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. A few seconds later, Dobby came running.
“Who is it, Dobby?” Narcissa asked, standing up.
“It’s Ms. Cromwell and Mr. Weasley.”
“Ms. Cromwell?” Lucius repeated.
The four of you, Malfoys and all, shared the same confusion as you scurried to meet your guest—plural, you corrected, guests.
At the entrance of the door, Cecile Cromwell stood with Charlie. She was the heiress you mentioned in your letter. The grieving heiress you warned him not to bother. Her late husband, Chuck Cromwell, held a large fortune in his name before passing last month. Cecile looked polished as always, layers of diamonds and silver looped around her twill dress. Wrapped in her shawl, she looked like the face of elegance and especially juxtaposed to Charlie…
Charlie, who was not wearing what he said he was going to. In fact, he complemented Cecile perfectly.
He’d slicked his hair back and tied the longer strands up. His blouse boasted some frilly lace that looked like it belonged on Genevieve’s wedding dress rather than his broad chest. The blouse sleeves were long, and the same frilly material poked out at his wrists. He wore a red undercoat that clashed heavily with his purple overcoat which was embroidered with gold stitches. Perhaps the most terrible thing was that his pants cut off past his knees. But his legs weren’t bare, absolutely not. He chose some sort of silk stocking to run down his legs before they were swallowed by his buckled shoes.
“My apologies for the delay, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy,” Charlie said. “And to you, my lovely (Y/N).”
You were relieved that Lucius and Narcissa’s gazes were so zoned in on Charlie that they couldn’t even spare you a glance. Because your face was a clear tell that you weren’t expecting this at all. Whatever happened to his promise of a jean jacket and slacks?
“I’d expected him to dress like this, something reflective of his character,” Draco whispered from beside you. “A circus act.”
“Bugger off,” you warned, giving him a push away.
“It was a rather circuitous route through the dense forest and trees,” Charlie explained, dusting off a twig that was stuck in the loopy lace of his blouse. You wanted to scream. “Luckily, I had Ms. Cromwell to guide me to safety.”
“Cecile is more than fine, Charles,” Cecile assured, smoothing out his suit for him. “As we discussed on the way here.”
“And Charlie is fine, as we discussed,” he added.
“You didn’t have to walk all the way here, Ms. Cromwell,” Lucius said rather hastily. “It’s rather chilly. Let me have the house elf escort you back.”
“Nonsense,” she deflected, only giving Lucius a moment of her time before fixing a strand of Charlie’s hair that a branch must’ve unstuck. “Walking keeps me youthful in my old age. And meeting Charles, I mean Charlie here, was the sunshine to my gloomy day.”
“I couldn’t have assumed you were over fifty,” Charlie commented.
“Oh, you,” Cecile said with a loud giggle. You’d never seen the heiress act like a fifteen-year old. “You remind me of my late husband so very much. Same name, just as handsome, and you’re dressed like him when we met as teenagers. Any lady would be lucky to have you.”
Well, at least someone in the room thought he looked charming in those dated robes.
“Men these days don’t possess that same sense of charming style. It’s always the same shades of black and white.”
Lucius and Draco both silently peered down at their suit of all black before Lucius said: “I fear that a storm could break any moment now, you best get going,” he insisted, nudging Dobby to take the heiress’s hand.
“I’m happy to provide direction anytime, Charlie,” Cecile reminded as Dobby guided—very gently pulled—her to the door. She shot him a wink. “You know where I live.”
Charlie stepped forward. “Of course, Cecile. Have a pleasant evening.”
Then, the door shut leaving the five of you in silence.
“How nice it is to be able to meet your neighbours, Mr. Malfoy, despite the circumstances of my delayed arrival,” Charlie said. “It doesn’t impress well upon me. I hope I can be forgiven for the gaffe.”
It took Lucius longer than usual to register Charlie’s words. It was apparent he was embarrassed that Cecile Cromwell was cognizant that Charlie Weasley was invited to his mansion for dinner. And was dating his daughter.
“Of course,” Narcissa answered in lieu of her frozen husband. “Shall we proceed to the dining room?”
She took Lucius’s hand and gave him a less-than-gentle nudge towards the hall. Lucius walked like the troll that had somehow stormed its way into Hogwarts in your third year. Still unable to speak, he walked along with Narcissa. Draco scampered behind your parents. All you could do was stare at the chaos Charlie caused by merely arriving.
“Come on then,” Charlie spoke in a low tone next to you. He took you by the hand as well.
“Where did you get these robes?” you asked, referring to his costume.
“It was my great-aunt’s father’s, or something of that sort. Mum wasn’t clear. It really was stowed away in the attic, and I wore it against better advice.”
“Why?”
“I’m a classy man,” Charlie boasted. “What more can I say?”
Dobby rushed back just in time to pour the wine. You were seated next to Charlie, Draco in front of you, and your parents on each side of the table.
“How is work, Mr. Malfoy?” Charlie asked through a polite sip of red when it settled.
“It’s been keeping me busy,” Lucius responded almost robotically.
“September is never a quiet time for the Ministry, as both my brothers and father say.”
Lucius was half-focused on conversation. He’d recovered from the Cecile incident, but there was another enemy: he couldn’t keep his eyes off Charlie’s hand that was doting touches on your arm and waist. Truthfully, neither could you. Charlie’s fingers squeezed sporadically and you thanked the wine glass for absorbing your squeal.
“Of course not, which is why we look forward to the summer. Speaking of, where will you summer?” Lucius asked. You nearly rolled your eyes at the uppity way he worded the question. Arthur had once asked you the same, but in a direct way: ‘Where are you going this summer?’
“We spend a day or two at some of the beach resorts in Romania, or dip into Greece, but there is one spot I’ve been dying to visit,” Charlie said.
“Where is that?” Lucius pressed.
“Your brother Theodore’s new estate in Paris.”
Lucius mouth paused mid-retort. Narcissa’s red lip was stuck, pressed against the wine glass.
You, on the other hand, had to fight the thunderous laugh rising in your chest.
“I’m sorry,” Lucius said, shaking his head with a slight laugh of disbelief. “I didn’t catch that. Where is this?”
“(Y/N) was telling me about how tremendous your brother’s Parisian estate was,” Charlie clarified, his words full of air and cheer. “I can imagine how big it is compared to this mansion. And I hear he hosts a wickedly good game of golf, which I’d be happy to partake in.”
“It’s good enough for Paris,” Lucius said. “But—”
“See, you and I are similar in that regard,” Charlie interrupted, raising a finger. Lucius’s frown grew steeper at how Charlie was now lumping them in the same bracket. “Living in the shadows of our perfect older brothers and being constantly compared to them.”
Lucius scoffed. “My parents knew better than to do that.”
‘Yeah, right,’ you thought. Your grandfather, Abraxas, loved to pit his two sons together, like they were animals in a ring. And like an unbreakable tradition, Lucius imposed that on you and Draco, and you knew you weren’t as wonderful as the perfect little Malfoy next to you.
“I would be pleased to meet your brother one day,” Charlie said. “Maybe next summer. After all, (Y/N) has met most of my extended family and there’s nothing that ties a partnership like family.”
“We’ll see what our plans are for next summer,” Lucius said. “It’s a little premature to be thinking of that already.”
“Of course,” Charlie conceded. “My apologies for being so rash.”
“Will you be returning to Romania?” Lucius asked. “Is it possible for you to have time off during summer with your job, anyway,?”
“It’s hard to be thinking about the summer already,” Charlie repeated with a smile, taking Lucius’s line and stuffing it back in his own mouth.
“So, what will you and (Y/N) do to see each other?” Narcissa quickly piped in with a wife’s intuition that her husband was going to cause a scene about the manner of Charlie’s response.
“Well, I’ll try my very best to make it back to England when I can for the holidays,” Charlie promised. “But (Y/N) is also intent on visiting Romania for weeks on end if there are time constraints.”
Narcissa was startled. “And she’ll travel herself?”
“Yes, I will,” you confirmed. Charlie glanced at over you, his expression proud and thoroughly impressed at your improvisation. You gave a small smile back.
“All that travelling does take a toll on the body, especially that of a young woman,” Narcissa warned. You redirected your attention to your wine, evading her glance over.
‘Oh, mother, thank you for always being so cognizant of the state of my reproductive organs,’ you thought.
Narcissa dug further into Charlie. “Have you considered settling down in one place?”
“Not in the next couple of years,” Charlie said. He was so convincing that you could see your future reflected in the polished glass in front of you, full of Romanian castles and mountains. “Nothing like travelling when we’re young, right, (Y/N)?”
You nodded. “Absolutely. We should take all the time we need.”
“Have you thought about marriage? Children? Wouldn’t it better for a family to remain in one place, too?” Narcissa asked, oblivious to Lucius’s eye that had just twitched. The thought of you and Charlie producing off-spring might’ve been revolting for him to forget about dinner altogether.
Charlie looked solemn. “That might not be in the picture.”
You quickly looked over. This was far from what you would’ve wanted him to say, but Charlie squeezed your knee to silence you. You almost kicked up at the table.
“It’s a shared decision, is it not?” Narcissa asked.
“Yes, of course,” you added breathlessly. Best to just play along with Charlie. “And I think, I think… the same.”
“We’ll re-evaluate in ten years,” Charlie assured.
“Ten—!” Lucius finally spoke for his wife, before cutting himself off. “And you’ll be how old then, Charles?”
“Thirty-nine,” Charlie responded. Rubbing salt on the wound, he reminded your parents: “And (Y/N) will be thirty-three.”
Now it was Narcissa’s turn to look as white as a spirit. She had you when she was twenty-four, and Draco at twenty-six. Comparatively, thirty-three was geriatric.
You bit down to quell the laugh that was trying to escape your lips. Charlie knew how to make your parents tick and hit each box perfectly, like he was scoring points on the Quidditch field in his prime years. In your little ‘lullaby’, you and Charlie were having ten kids, but having none was clearly the better option. You did prefer your mother over your father and hated to make her upset, but the constant reminder on you and never Draco to be married, to bear children, to be a mother yourself, was a lot.
“Draco will obviously carry on the family name should my decision remain unchanged.” You nudged Draco with your foot. Your tone was devilish; it was time for Draco to bear the burden of everything. “Won’t you?”
Draco growled back. You both loved offloading familial duties onto each other.
“What is your reason, Charles, if you don’t mind me asking?” Narcissa asked.
“Seeing how much my parents had to sacrifice and give up for themselves,” Charlie responded, a tinge of sadness coating his voice.
Again, if Charlie Weasley needed a second career, acting wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.
“Well, when you make the decision to have more children than you can afford, that seems like an unavoidable issue,” Lucius said hotly.
“They struggled, but I wouldn’t trade any of my siblings for anything in the world.”
The air of the room was clouded with confusion. Lucius was set out to hate Charlie, but Charlie was acting the part of a perfect, coiffed gentleman (save for the remarks about Uncle Theo’s bigger estate and inviting himself over). Narcissa, though milder than Lucius, would’ve preferred a different man for you than Charlie Weasley, but she was upset you weren’t set out to have her grandchild(ren) anytime soon. Draco, always in the mood for a snarky comment, didn’t know whether to laugh or continue to live through the horror of a conversation your parents were actually invested in.
“Very well,” Lucius said, leaning back. “It’s a shame Kingsley’s new policies have made it harder for the working class to have children.”
You groaned internally. Even Draco, who was always on his father’s side, rolled his eyes at Lucius’s favourite topic: blaming every bad thing in the world on the current Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. It was easier for him to have sway over his predecessor, Cornelius Fudge. Well, before Fudge was forced to resign over some controversies in his office.
“Undoubtedly,” Charlie backed him up with a nod. Lucius looked at him with surprise; he hadn’t expected him to agree. But you didn’t think Charlie was going to, based on the crafty smirk on his face. “It’ll take decades to undo the damage Fudge put forth in his years in office, draining funding from things like childcare and parental leave and putting that money in the pockets of his friends instead.”
There it was.
Shadows appeared on Lucius’s countenance. “Fudge did no such thing.”
Draco slammed his face into his hands.
Lucius continued. “He’s only ever introduced good policies, like the potential reintroduction of dragon domestication.”
“Having spent a decade near them, I can say they’re absolutely not suitable for domestication,” Charlie pointed out.
“The earliest of Malfoys have been domesticators of dragons,” Lucius stated. “And they did very well, before the Ministers of Magic intervened.”
It was a touchy topic for your father indeed. Centuries ago, Malfoys did the unfathomable: they domesticated dragons and the only way to do that was to really hurt the beasts. And hunted them for sport. The same terrible creatures that had power to burn down cities, the same creatures that people staked their lives to tame. But ethics and politics shook down on the practice, and dragon domestication reflected once again in a bad light.
Or that was what you’d read. Lucius preferred to say that those in power were gleeful to finally shake down on Malfoys. Maybe it was just transgenerational shame. You knew Malfoys hated being told what to do.
“For good reason. The fatality rate of those trying to domesticate dragons was beyond any acceptable threshold, and vice versa.” Charlie’s voice was now lower, more serious than you’d ever heard him. His lovely bass notes reverberated in your ear and sent a chill down your spine.
“So, what exactly is the point of your job?” Lucius asked hotly. “Don’t you, on a technicality, domesticate them?”
“I study and work with them, Mr. Malfoy,” Charlie corrected. In a battle for authority, Charlie was winning. “You can call it taming, if you’d like, so they’re less destructive to the environment and wizardkind. I can make them pliable for transport as well.”
Your eyes darted back and forth between Lucius and Charlie.
Behind Charlie’s cool and collected demeanour, you had to wonder if he was affected by your father’s words. You knew he cared deeply about dragons, never even taking more than a week off them in the past decade. He wouldn’t ever fathom hurting them for personal gain.
“Let’s have some dinner, shall we?” Narcissa said quickly. No one wanted to see Lucius riled up over politics.
The rest of dinner proceeded without a hitch, in your eyes at least. In between courses, Charlie pulled you close and whispered in your ears. You were sure this was for show because you didn’t understand anything he was saying, or maybe it was because you were too busy gazing into his deep blue eyes and studying every freckle on his cheek.
When the clock struck nine, and the last drop of coffee was had, Charlie excused himself to leave.
“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy for such a delightful evening,” Charlie remarked at the door. “And for such an insightful discussion on dragon domestication, Mr. Malfoy.”
Charlie was tempting war.
“I would be happy to discuss this topic anytime, Charles,” Lucius responded icily.
Charlie hummed in agreement. “Of course.” Then, he turned to you.
In a flash, all you could see was a mouthy smirk that had definitely sunk ships in past lifetimes.
His right arm reached out to take you by the waist to spin you around. You expected him to only bid you goodnight but you were way off the mark. His lips remained silent. His left hand did all the talking by climbing to the back of your neck to position you how he wanted. He tilted your head back and inched closer and then—
His lips landed on yours.
You might’ve been flustered or pushed him away under normal circumstances, but this was no normal circumstance. Unsure of what to do, you lay immobile in his arms, like that rag doll you promised you weren’t going to be. Except you were, again. He was playing you like a marionette puppet and his hands were the strings. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of the dress until you could feel each one. His lips stuck on yours like honey, like a fruit lolly from Honeydukes on a hot summer day. His eyelashes brushed against your eyelids as he tilted your head down further to deepen the kiss.
Patches of muscled torso pressed against the front of your body. Warmth seeped from his hand to the back of your neck as his palm caressed your skin while his fingers tangled themselves in your hair.
He deepened the kiss once more before pulling away.
You stumbled upwards as he withdrew himself. Your fingers ghosted over your flushed lips in disbelief, but again, no one saw. In this moment, no one cared about you.
When the stars faded and vision came to be, the first thing you saw were the agape mouths of your parents. But they weren’t going to chastise Charlie over the improper way he said goodbye; there were no words to be had.
“Have yourself a wonderful evening,” Charlie said in a manner so unaffected that you didn’t understand. He had just given you the most electric kiss you’ve ever had, and in front of your parents and brother. “And many thanks again for having me.”
NEXT CHAPTER>>
CHAPTER DIRECTORY
#charlie weasley x reader#charlie weasley x oc#charlie weasley x you#charlie weasley fic#charlie weasley imagine
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august (Charlie Weasley)
Charlie x reader
notes: based on the Taylor Swift song, but I couldn't not end hopeful. Slytherin reader but the is only one reference to it not explicit but refers to sex
I have more Taylor swift Harry Potter fictions in my stuff if y'all want more
word count: 1,217
You brushed by Charlie Weasley entering potions, you looked down to control the heat that rose to your cheeks. Looking up you caught his eyes lingering.
You flushed remembering this last summer before your seventh year.
You were out at a small beachtown with your parents, they were there less often than one would think for a family vacation so you spent much time walking around the town.
You had walked down to a more private area taking off your shoes laughing to find your toes in the sand.
But when you got to your spot you found someone sitting there.a familiar mop of red curls, the gryffindor quidditch captain.
He turned to meet your eye. He looked over your curiosity written all over his face. When he moved you noticed a sketch book in his lap.
“Sorry I didn't think someone would be here,” you began to turn around.
“No, it's fine,” he smiled at you. “You go to Hogwarts don't you? I think we had charms together.”
You nodded at him smiling. You gave him your name.
“Its nice to properly meet you.”
You were soon meeting him in this spot every day. Talking, subtly getting closer, memorizing the way his hair curled around his face and how it carelessly fell back when he ran his finger through it.
It turned into an everyday thing to meet him out by that small hidden place. You were reading, he was drawing something facing you and you caught his eye more than once.
“What are you drawing this time?” you smiled at him placing down your book.
“You,” he shrugged like the simple word didn't just take your breath away.
“I thought you only drew dragons,” you tried to recover quickly.
“I draw what i'd like to,” he looked up at you shyly placing the sketch book on your lap.
You inhaled sharply as you saw the way he drew the curve of your nose and the silly face you make when you concentrate too hard.
“You made me beautiful,” you gave him a soft smile somewhere in you being lost in the drawing he moved right next to you.
“I drew you as you are,” his voice was almost a whisper and a rather large hand round a lock of your hair.
You turned to face him, finding an intensity in his eyes you've never seen up close. Your eyes went to his lips that were twisted into a slight smirk.
He was getting closer giving you time to pull away, but you met him there. You met slightly chapped lips and a hand found its way to your chin.
You wanted to wrap yourself in him, he was warm and inviting.
“Charlie,” you beathed when he pulled back his forehead against yours. “Do you want to come to my cabin?”
It was forward,stupid and might scare him off. But you wanted to take the chance what if it was only today, but also what if this could mean forever.
He smiled, bringing his lips to yours again before getting up to go. He grabbed your hand so you could pull him with you.
Once you got to the cabin he seemed less dazed. “Your parents?”
“Out of town for the weekend.”
He pulled you to him, his arms circling your waist, a soft kiss on the front porch. “Are you sure?”
It was a good question, they could turn back now but nothing in you wanted to.
You nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips pulling him in by his tee shirt.
Innocent kisses easily turned to gentle touches, clothes were shed frantically, it was a hunger you had never known before.
“Charlie,” you breathed as he went for your waist band. “I haven't ever done this before.”
He nodded, “we can stop.”
“No.”
***
You pulled away from his eyes as you joined the other slytherin students on their side of the class. You took notes as diligently as you could wondering why he hasn’t talked to you.
You needed to know what only two months ago put so much distance between the two of you. You thought he wanted you too.
Thinking back to how your parents never being present meant you and Charlie got the cabin to yourselves.
You remembered his golden skin that stood out on your green sheets. He was laying on his stomach looking at you as you mindlessly traced his back. It took everything in you to not trace your own name on the muscle you were feeling.
“Charlie?”
“Yes love?” The nickname made your heart flutter.
“This won't be it for us, will it?” you whispered. The doom of seventh year only weeks away.
“If you don't want it to be it won’t,” he twisted to face up,his fingers laced with yours bringing them to his mouth for a kiss.
But it had been a lie, you walked onto the train and saw him with his friends, his arm slung around a pretty blond hufflepuff.
You walked to where you knew your friends were fighting back tears that you never allowed to slip.
You breathed you thought a week without hearing from him was reasonable but now you saw he may have had another reason.
You were young sure but everything in you knew you wanted Charlie Weasley in your life, you wanted his hands around your waist, his whispers at night.
He was everything you never knew you needed.
You hoped maybe he’ll reach out after maybe you miss understood, it was known Charlie Weasley was not intrested girls or anyone really.
He never did.
So here you were in the October chill reading the same book you read on that beach for what had to be the tenth time since that day.
You heard a soft ‘oh’ as someone intruded on your quiet spot.
It was Charlie.
“I'll go,” you said at the same time. You stood up almost falling from how fast you got up. You turned to walk away but a familiar hand grabbed your wrist.
“Love?” he breathed as your face twisted into one of hurt you could fee the tears pricking your eyes.
“What do you want Weasley” you tried to pull but his grip was firm.
“I want to know what happened to us,” you turned to meet his eyes to find hurt in them. “I thought you wanted us, I did, well I do.”
“I waited to hear from you Charlie, I understood the week before school, I did.” tears slipped, “but then I walked onto the train to find a pretty hufflepuff around you and i thought maybe you made a mistake.”
“Love, no, I meant what I said only if you wanted it.” he breathed, softly pulling you closer you followed his movement. “Penny is genuinely a friend. When you didn't reach out i thought you didn't want us.”
“Somehow, after everything all I want is us.” you managed a smile. You put your free hand into his red curls as he intertwined your fingers on the hand he used to pull you in. You laughed, pulling his face down to meet yours.
There would be much to talk about , but right now you are grateful that Charlie wasn't a lost memory to linger on.
#charlie weasley x reader#charlie weasley x oc#charlie weasley#Charlie Weasley fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#slytherin reader
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On This Wild Night — Part One
Notes: And here it is, the Hinny Wedding WIP. In Part 1 of 5, it’s time to attend the ceremony, but two guests are running a little late. At dinner, the Weasley brothers hatch a fun plan, and Artemis plans on having a little fun herself… A warning for mild language and some sexual references.
Masterlist — Next
Charlie perched on the arm of a sofa, tapping one foot on the ground impatiently. As the door opened, he stood up, but he was disappointed to see that the person entering the room wasn’t a person at all, but a strawberry-blonde cat, whose fur was grey around the face. Charlie sighed.
“What is taking so long?” he asked, his question directed to himself as much as the cat. He looked at his watch, shook his head, and walked into the hallway to call up the stairs, “Artemis! We are going to be late!”
“What’s the time?” a woman’s voice called back to him.
“It’s half past ten!”
“That’s fine! It doesn’t start until eleven and it only takes a second to Apparate.”
Charlie made his way up the stairs. At the top, he leant against the wall opposite the bathroom, from which he could hear the sound of Artemis rummaging through a bag.
“Artie, I don’t want to rush you, but I was meant to be there over ten minutes ago,” he said. “I’m an usher, remember?”
“I know, I know,” Artemis’ voice said on the other side of the door. “Stop nagging me, you sound like your mother.”
It was hard to argue with that, but time was getting on. Charlie glanced at his watch once more.
“Alright, are you nearly done, or should I just go on without—”
He didn’t finish his sentence. The bathroom door swung open to reveal a bare-footed woman with hazel eyes and dark hair that had been pulled back from her face into an artfully messy bun. His eyes swept her five foot tall frame, taking in the way the wine-coloured fabric of her dress skimmed her hips, and clung to her chest. The dress was low-cut, leaving Artemis’ shoulders and collarbone exposed.
“I’m done,” she said, holding her arms out from her sides to demonstrate.
“Hm,” was the only response Charlie was able to give.
“Charlie?”
“Hm?”
“My eyes are up here, you know.”
At Artemis’ words, Charlie quickly looked up at her face. She shook her head at him, before pulling her wand out of the clutch bag she held — until that moment, he hadn’t even noticed that she was holding a bag — and summoned a pair of very high-heeled shoes from the attic.
“Sorry. I like your dress,” he told her.
“Sure, that’s what it was,” she muttered, slipping the shoes onto her feet.
“Have you got the card and present?”
Artemis peered into the clutch bag, before summoning those and putting them in there, too.
“I have now,” she said brightly. “Charlie.”
“What?”
“Will you stop looking at them?”
“Sorry, I just… Well, I physically can’t.” He half-laughed, and tilted his head to one side. “Have they always been that big?”
“No, I’m just wearing a bra.”
“Do you not normally wear a bra?”
“I do,” Artemis nodded, “but this is a proper bra. Does this to them.”
She put her hands in front of her chest, pushed them towards each other, then lifted them up slightly. Charlie nodded sagely.
“I see. Very impressive.”
Artemis frowned at him before looking downwards.
“Is it too much?” she asked. “Is it maybe just a bit too booby?”
“Maybe,” Charlie said, standing up straight and stepping towards her, his face mock-solemn. “You know, I think I might need a closer look in order to tell.”
“Funny.” Artemis pulled a face, but she walked towards him anyway. Charlie placed his hands on her elbows and looked down at her, trying to keep his face straight.
“No,” he said, after a few moments. “I’d say it’s just booby enough. Exactly the right amount of booby.”
“You would say that.”
Artemis didn’t look convinced, and Charlie lifted her elbows so that her arms were on his shoulders. He dropped his hands to hold onto her waist and looked her in the eye.
“Seriously, though. You look beautiful. Really beautiful.”
The expression of amused annoyance disappeared from Artemis’ face, and a small smile began to play on her lips.
“So do you,” she told him, and he kissed her on the forehead.
He would have stopped there, but Artemis’ hands had made their way into his hair, and before he could stop her — although, he was hardly going to stop her — she had brought his face to hers. The feeling of her lips on his ruined his resolve, and as they kissed his hands moved from her waist to her lower back, down to her bum and back up to just below her shoulder blades, where the fabric of the dress met her skin and he could feel the fastenings between his fingertips…
“Charlie,” Artemis whispered against his lips. He hummed back to her. “Shouldn’t you be ushing at the moment?”
In an instant, Charlie removed his fingers from Artemis’ dress.
“Shit. Yes, yes I am,” he said. “Yeah, we really don’t have time for this right now.”
Artemis laughed. She licked her thumb and used it to wipe her lipstick from his lips.
“Shame. Maybe later,” she said, and raised her eyebrows.
“Definitely later.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Who’s Apparating?”
“You can,” replied Charlie. “It’s your fault that we’re running late, after all.”
Artemis sighed, but she held out her arm anyway. Charlie linked his own with it, intertwining his fingers with hers. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, before taking one final look down the front of her dress. He felt Artemis nudge him with her elbow.
“Eyes up, Weasley.”
Charlie snapped his head up, and the two of them disappeared with a loud crack.
Artemis took a seat on the left side of the church, in the second pew from the front of the chapel. While Charlie greeted various distant relatives and family friends with two of his younger brothers, she took a look around the room, making note of who she did and didn’t recognise.
Milling around the chapel were a few vaguely familiar faces she recognised from other events, and some old acquaintances and members of the staff from her school, several Quidditch players, and her old friend Kingsley, who waved to her from across the chapel. At the altar, the youngest Weasley brother, Ron, was engaged in a whispered conversation with his best friend Harry, who was looking incredibly nervous.
One of the most familiar faces of all approached Artemis and she stood up to greet the newcomer. He was tall and slim, with long hair the same shade of red as Charlie’s pulled back into a ponytail. He had a heavily scarred face, a flower pinned to his lapel, and a baby strapped to his chest.
“Aren’t you meant to be on usher duty, not dad duty?” Artemis asked Bill Weasley, who hugged her with the arm furthest away from the baby.
“Well, I did have to do two people’s worth of work for the first fifteen minutes,” replied Bill, with a pointed look.
“Sorry. We lost track of time.”
Bill almost shuddered at Artemis’ words.
“Spare me the details,” he muttered. “Anyway, Fleur’s gone to make sure Victoire’s ready to be a flower girl, so I’m in charge of Dominique.” Bill paused, both frowning and smirking simultaneously. “Although, it looks like I’m not the only one to have brought my two girls out for the day.”
“What? Oh.”
Artemis covered her chest with her hand and scowled at Bill. In response, he began to laugh wickedly.
“Maybe try and keep your distance from our Aunt Muriel,” he sniggered.
“I always do.”
“I know, but she still isn’t over what you wore to my wedding. The shock of this might finally kill her.”
Artemis rolled her eyes. “Wow, you look good too, Bill.”
“I didn’t say you don’t look good. You look great, it’s just…” Bill determinedly looked away from her and held his hand up to the side of his face. “Holy crap, Artemis.”
“I don’t think you’re meant to say that in a church.”
“I don’t think you’re meant to get your tits out in one either, but here we are.”
“I don’t see why not. Mary Magdalene got hers out all the time,” Artemis retorted.
Bill blinked at her. “She was a prostitute.”
“I thought she was a virgin.”
“I’m sure she was at some point, but you’re thinking of the Virgin Mary.”
“Are they not the same person?”
“Definitely not,” Bill sniggered.
“Don’t laugh at me. I’m Jewish.”
“No, your family is Jewish. Your estranged family. You, however, ate a bacon sandwich at my house last weekend.”
“Are you not allowed to eat bacon if you’re Jewish?” Artemis frowned. Bill stared at her in disbelief.
Almost everyone was in their seats now, and the three red-headed ushers were returning to the front of the church. Bill moved out of the pew to allow Charlie to sit down between him and Artemis. Charlie was accompanied by his mother, and both of them paused to stroke the tiny fingers of the sleeping baby in Bill’s arms.
“Artemis, dear. Lovely to see you.” Mrs Weasley pulled herself away from her new grandchild to place her hands on Artemis’ shoulders and pull her into a hug.
“You look lovely, Molly,” Artemis told her as she returned the hug.
“Not as lovely as you, dear,” replied Mrs Weasley. She held Artemis at arms length and looked her up and down. Like both her sons, she paused a little at the level of Artemis’ chest. Quickly returning her gaze to Artemis’ face, she raised her eyebrows and drew her lips into a tight smile. “Well, I’d better sit down, it’s going to start any minute now.”
Mrs Weasley turned away from Artemis and sat in the very front pew, in front of Bill, and Artemis sat down beside Charlie.
“Did your mum just check me out?” Artemis hissed, and Charlie shrugged by way of response.
A stunningly pretty woman with silver-blonde hair brisked down the aisle towards them, and they shuffled sideways to make room for her to sit next to Bill.
“Hello, Fleur. How’s Victoire?”
“She is very excited,” Fleur leaned across her husband to kiss Charlie and Artemis on the cheeks. “I just ‘ope zat she doesn’t get overwhelmed.”
The sound of organ music filled the air, and the congregation rose to their feet. Fleur leaned across the two eldest Weasley brothers once more.
“Artemis,” she whispered, reaching across to touch Artemis’ wrist, “where did you get zat bra? Your breasts look fantastic.”
“Yeah, everyone’s a fan today,” muttered Artemis, hearing Bill sigh and Charlie let out a noise halfway between a snort and a cough.
At the back of the church, the doors opened to reveal a tall, balding man with glasses, holding the arm of a beautiful young woman with a broad and slightly nervous-looking smile. She was wearing a white dress with long lace sleeves and a cascading skirt, and a crown of flowers was balanced on the top of her head, from which thick red curls cascaded down to the middle of her back.
The two of them started to walk through the middle of the chapel, and in the corner of Artemis’ eye she saw Charlie’s Adam’s apple move up and down. She smiled sympathetically, and placed a hand on his forearm, rubbing small circles with her thumb. Today was going to be hard for both of them, what with all the memories of the people they had lost in the war five years previously. However, while Artemis had lost friends, Charlie had lost a brother as well. Fred Weasley’s absence was going to be more profoundly felt than ever on the day his sister got married. Charlie might have been putting on a brave face and trying to stay strong, but Artemis knew that really, she was going to have to be the strong one today.
Ginny Weasley and her father continued to walk down the aisle, followed by two bridesmaids, one with bushy brown hair and the other with large pale blue eyes. Behind them walked a small boy with hair that changed colour from purple to blue halfway down the length of the church, and Artemis’ goddaughter Victoire, scattering confetti as she toddled at his side.
At the front of the church, Fleur picked up Victoire and the two older bridesmaids joined a now tearful Mrs Weasley in the front pew. Mr Weasley shook hands with the groom, Harry, and kissed his beaming daughter on the cheek.
A Muggle in robes that made him look more like a wizard than most of the guests greeted the bride, before addressing the room.
“We are gathered here today…”
After leaving the church and having some photos on the front steps, the wedding guests had Apparated away from Godric’s Hollow back to the Burrow, the Weasleys’ family home. In the back garden, a large marquee had been erected, inside which round tables had been decked with white cloths and cutlery sets, and tiny lights were hanging from the canvas walls of the tent.
Once everyone was seated at their allocated tables, plates of food appeared in front of them. Charlie sat very straight in his seat as he ate his meal, all the while making small-talk with the guest who had been seated beside him: Kingsley Shacklebolt, a family friend and now Minister for Magic. The conversation was cordial, but not entirely comfortable, at least for Charlie. As always, he couldn’t tell what Kingsley really thought of him.
On his left hand side, he could hear Artemis having an even more strained discussion with Percy’s girlfriend Audrey. He wasn’t really listening to what was being said, but he could hear the boredom in Artemis’ voice as she made her short responses. He flicked his eyes towards her and briefly made eye contact, before turning back to Kingsley on his right.
“She looks like she’s enjoying herself,” Kingsley muttered with a wry smile, and Charlie nodded, not sure if he should laugh or not. There was a short pause, and Kingsley’s dark eyes scanned the marquee around them. “Did you two help set this all up?”
“Artemis did. I would have done, but what with work, I only got back last night,” Charlie told him.
“Are you both staying at your parents’ this weekend?”
“No, we’ll Apparate back to Artie’s house. The benefit of her still having a base back here.”
“How do you like Camden?”
“It’s… well, it’s got character,” Charlie said diplomatically. Kingsley nodded, almost knowingly, and Charlie felt the need to explain himself. “I’m more of a countryside person, really.”
Artemis, either beyond tired of her conversation with Audrey or just wanting to get his attention, placed her hand on Charlie’s knee.
“You alright?” he asked her, frowning.
“I’m fine,” said Artemis. “Just remembered something you said before we left this morning, that’s all.”
There was no trace of insincerity on her face, and her nose didn’t twitch. She was telling the truth. Charlie nodded, not sure what she was talking about.
“Okay. That’s good. What was it that I said?” His question went unanswered, as Artemis flashed him a small but bright smile before turning back to Audrey once more. She kept her hand on his leg, however. Charlie shook his head and turned back to Kingsley. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, Mr Shacklebolt, how much of a difference your international Floo Network has made. It’s been great, thank you.”
“Please, Charlie, you really need to start calling me Kingsley.”
Kingsley said this almost every time he and Charlie spoke, which wasn’t often, yet Charlie had yet to bring himself to call the Minister for Magic by his first name. But it wasn’t Kingsley’s political status that made Charlie so uncharacteristically nervous around him; Kingsley Shacklebolt was probably the closest thing Artemis had to a father.
Of course, his sister knew all this, just as she knew that Artemis found Percy’s girlfriend unbearingly dull. Charlie had a sneaking suspicion that Ginny had seated them like this deliberately, possibly as punishment for them being late. He wouldn’t have put it past his little sister. Still, it could have been worse. They could have been put on a table with Aunt Muriel.
The thought improved Charlie’s mood slightly, and as Kingsley started to ask him about his work, he answered his questions with less forced politeness. Charlie was pretty happy talking about dragonology, generally speaking.
His newfound comfort in the conversation rapidly diminished, however, as he found himself struggling to concentrate on what he was saying. It wasn’t his fault. It was Artemis’ fault. More specifically, the fault of Artemis’ right hand, which was currently wandering up and down and around his left thigh.
Oh, he realised, that was the thing he’d said before they left the house. But why had she chosen now of all times to… Was Percy’s girlfriend really that boring? Or was she really trying to… For Godric’s sake, he was trying to talk to Kingsley about… What was he trying to talk about?
As Artemis’ hand cupped his crotch, Charlie cleared his throat and used his elbow to push her arm away from him. Artemis stopped her conversation with Audrey and her smirk slipped from her face as she turned to look at him. Charlie shot her a very brief warning glance, and she pursed her lips, eyebrows furrowed. Charlie ignored her sulking, and continued to talk to Kingsley, once more able to concentrate on what he was saying.
At least, he was able to concentrate at first. It didn’t take long until Artemis had started to distract him in a different way. She was no longer touching him, but rummaging in her bag under the table. He tried his hardest to ignore her, but eventually he felt something suspiciously wand-like brush against the outside of his left thigh. That was alarming. Why on earth was Artemis casting spells at the dinner table?
“Will you behave yourself?” he whispered to her, hardly even joking, as she dropped her wand back into her bag and snapped it shut.
“No, that would be less fun,” replied Artemis, her smile more mischievous than ever. She reached out with her hand to take hold of his and bring it down onto her lap, where she pressed something that felt like a piece of soft fabric into his palm. With that, she rose to her feet.
“Excuse me,” she said, her hip brushing Charlie’s arm as she pushed her chair back. “Just off to powder my nose.”
Said nose twitched a little, and there was a look of triumph in Artemis’ eyes as she turned away to walk out of the tent. Below the table, Charlie ran the fabric through his fingers, and felt his face flush as he realised exactly what she had just handed to him. He pocketed the item, and considered his next move.
She’d be expecting him to follow her, of course, and he did want to do so. Merlin, he really wanted to do so. The problem was when, and how to not draw attention to himself. He couldn’t do it immediately, that would be too obvious, and besides, he really couldn’t stand up right now.
Luckily, or maybe unluckily, a distraction came in the form of his three other brothers arriving at the table, hovering behind Audrey and Artemis’ empty chair. Charlie quickly dropped a napkin onto his lap, just in case.
“I’ve had an idea,” George said, placing his hands on Audrey’s shoulders. Percy’s girlfriend immediately stiffened and sat up even straighter. “We’ve all got girls with us tonight. How about a little betting game?”
“What are we betting on?” Percy asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Which one catches the bouquet at the end of the night.”
Ron frowned. “How much?”
“Two Galleons each, winner takes all,” George suggested. He took his hands back and clapped them together. “Who’s in?”
There was a general murmur of assent, and each of them placed a gold coin into a velvet drawstring bag that George had conjured from thin air.
“What are you all plotting?”
A woman’s voice came from behind them, interrupting them. All five Weasley brothers whipped around to face their mother, trying to look as innocent as possible.
“We’re not plotting anything, Mum. We’re just chatting,” Bill said, kissing Molly Weasley on the cheek. Behind him, George hastily stuffed the bag of Galleons in the pocket of waistcoat. “Out of interest, who do you think will catch Ginny’s bouquet?”
Molly softened slightly as she considered Bill’s question.
“I’m not sure. There’s a lot of Quidditch players here today, and Fleur was a Triwizard champion. It really could be any of them.”
“No,” Kingsley interjected with a deep chuckle, “Tiny will get it, for sure. If we were placing bets, that’s where I’d be putting my money.”
Charlie looked across at the Minister for Magic, who winked at him conspiratorially before returning to his conversation with Andromeda.
“Where is Artemis?” his mother asked him, as the others returned to their own tables.
“She went to the loo,” Charlie answered, seeing his escape route. “She’s been gone a little while, actually. I should probably check that she’s okay.”
“Well, if she’s gone to the ladies’, I can—”
“No, Mum. You don’t have to do that.”
“But—”
“Honestly, it’s better if I go. She wasn’t feeling well earlier,” Charlie lied smoothly, rising from his seat. His mother frowned.
“Wasn’t she?”
“No, she was pretty sick before we left this morning. I should go. How long until the speeches? I know she won’t want to miss them.”
“Quarter of an hour or so, I expect.” Molly still looked concerned. “Charlie, is everything okay?”
“Of course it is, Mum. Won’t be long.”
Before his mother could protest further, Charlie briskly walked out of the marquee and into the garden, in search of Artemis, who was nowhere to be seen. He walked across the grass, towards the house, and as he did, he noticed a tortoiseshell cat lying on the patio, basking in the September afternoon sun. He smiled and shook his head at her.
“Enjoying the weather, are we?”
Hearing Charlie’s voice, the cat rose to her feet. A second later, Artemis stood in its place, her weight on one leg, the other crossed in front of her, her head tilted to one side.
“You took your time,” she said, with a coy smile. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to follow me.”
“Of course I was. I couldn’t exactly just get up and go.”
“I think you probably could.” Artemis held her hand out to him. “Shall we find out?”
Charlie lowered his head and laughed, before putting his hand into hers. Someday, he thought, she was going to be his downfall. Perhaps she already was.
#on this wild night#artemis hexley#charlie weasley#hp fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#the weasleys#ginny weasley#george weasley#percy weasley#bill weasley#fleur delacour#arthur weasley#molly weasley#kingsley shacklebolt#hphm fic#hogwarts mystery#charlie weasley x oc#charlie weasley x mc#canon compliant#hinny wedding
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Anaticula (1978-1989) Year One at Hogwarts Masterlist
Protego (Marauders Era) Masterlist here - Series Book 1
x Charlie Weasley, Sebastian Krum, Barty Crouch Jr/OC’s -
Prequel to Ridikulus - Life in Hogwarts and path to bringing down the Dark Lord with the drama of trying to just be a teenager.
Book 2 - Anaticula (1978-1989) Year One at Hogwarts -
Ch 1 Triplets & Adulthood Ao3 link here -
Ch 2 Death and Disguises -
Ch 3 Memorials & the Mood Ring -
Ch 4 The Hunt & Heirlooms -
Ch 5 Ten -
Ch 6 Acceptance Letter -
Ch 7 - Opal, Summer, Travels -
Ch 8 - Mysteries Persist -
Ch 9 - Off to Hogwarts -
Ch 10 - First Morning -
Ch 11 - Transfiguration & The Chamber
Ch 12 - Tea
Ch 13 - Potions to End of Day
Ch 14 - Day 2 to Rest of Week
Ch 15 - Fudge
Ch 16 - Hello Again
Ch 17 - Malfoy Manor
Ch 18 - Catching Up
Ch 19 - Tulip
Ch 20 - Rental Owls vs Puffball
Ch 21 - Dentist
Ch 22 - New Wardrobe
Ch 23 - Holiday Visits
Ch 24 - Snakes
Ch 25 - Background Check
Ch 26 - The Performance
Ch 27 - Quidditch and Awkward Questions
Continued in Anaticula Year One - 1989 Quidditch World Cup
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Our Time To Bloom
Chapter 7: The Serch Bythol
<Previous Chapter - All Chapters - Masterlist
Summary: Two months after the war, the couple is more distant than ever. Kate accompanies her grandfather on a trip to Ireland, where her past and present will collide in unexpected ways. Charlie stays in Romania with a decision to make: will he follow her and uncover all unsaid things? Romance/Drama /Mystery
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship
7th, July, 1998
Hours later, after dropping off Kate at the station, Charlie perched himself against a wooden fence at the dragon sanctuary. Lost in thought, he observed as Soule, an older Romanian Longhorn, stretched its wings in the air. The dragon flew in circles, pirouetting through the clouds with the bravest birds joining in its dance.
What a coward you have been, mate, not to join in. And what a fool! You wanted to go! You still do... Bernard has both great humour and profound wisdom, maybe he was the right person to talk to. If you want to talk... Simply trying to pronounce Fred’s name out loud makes your throat close up.
Soule walked past the Sun creating his silhouette in the wind for an instant.
A twinge in his knee made him hiss, and suddenly the smell of smoke invaded his nostrils.
‘It’s normal in the sanctuary,’ he reminded himself, but he couldn’t help but find himself on Hogwarts’ ground, lying on the stones and feeling that same smell.
He clung tightly to the fence, unable to move. The image of the man appearing out of the fire, distorted, only his silhouette visible when lit from behind, slipped into his mind without permission. He had hit him in the knee, fortunately, but at that moment, helpless on the ground, he knew the stranger would not miss a second time.
He struggled to steady his breathing and with difficulty set his sights on the mountains in the distance. He imagined waterfalls and rivers, crystal-clear lakes and the reflection of clouds in their waters, paths overlooking the valley, patches of flowering bushes.
He managed to shake off the vision of his near-death by trying to imagine himself flying, soaring through the skies on a dragon. With the wind in his face and breathing clean air, seeing the world disappearing and getting smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller...
“You’re making my dragons nervous...”
A light tap on the shoulder accompanied the voice, which was just enough to make Charlie flinch and turn away from Sonia, bringing his hand to his hip unconsciously reaching for his wand.
“Sorry.” She said with sincerity in her eyes before leaning against the fence.
Charlie brought his hand to his hair, briefly massaging his head and undoing the small ponytail he wore. He leaned back against the wood next to his group leader.
They both stood in silence for a while, just watching the sky. Charlie’s heart started beating normally again, and he was able to take a deep breath. Still, he brought his hand to his opposite arm and started stroking his inner elbow with his thumb.
“Nervous?” Sonia asked without looking at him. “The lists go out the day after tomorrow.” She added at the look she saw out of the corner of her eye.
“A little.”
“The grant is yours, I have no doubt. And Razvan’s too. You are both very capable.” She said with a small smile.
“We’ll see if the folks at Apuseni feel the same way.”
“I’m sure they will.”
Absently, Charlie continued to make circles on his skin.
“Cool tat,” Sonia commented, looking at the pale skin on his arm. “I haven’t seen it on you before.”
“Oh...” He pulled his hand away to reveal the symbol he wore inked in black. “We only got it done last year...”
Sonia raised her eyebrows.
“Kate and I.”
“Damn. That’s bold. I don’t think I could get matching tattoos with a boyfriend. It’s usually contraindicated.” She laughed, coaxing a small smile from Charlie.
“Yeah, well, they’re not permanent. The guy who did it to us can take them off, too.” It dawned on Charlie that this was the first time anyone had noticed the symbol he was wearing, and that no one but Kate knew of its existence. Not even Razvan.
He moved a little closer to her, extending his left arm so she could see better, and began to follow the lines with his pinky.
“It is, in theory, a Celtic symbol made of two Trinity knots flipped to the side and fused together.” He traced the intricate lines from the horizontally pointing tips to the central circle. “The three points of the knots represent the soul: mind, body and spirit, as well as the circle of life. The two knots maintain their individuality, but when intertwined, they create a perfect circle, symbolising the endless unity between two souls.” He recited as he had been told. He focused on the dragons again, less solemn, remembering with a smile the tale they were told when that man was tattooing Kate.
“It’s really just one interpretation, there’s no factual information about it that we know,” he chuckled" but we loved that story so much we adopted it as our own."
When Sonia didn’t comment on it, he kept going,
“It’s called a Serch Bythol. In Celtic Welsh language, serk means Love, and beeth-ohl means everlasting.”
“I wouldn’t have imagined in a million years that you two were corny as hell!” They shared a laugh at her teasing. Charlie was grateful that she took the weight out of his words.
“Oh, come on, be easy on me, boss, I’m opening my heart for you here.” He said half-joking.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They chuckled again, watching as Soule landed on a tree. “I don’t suppose you got it one night completely smashed in some dude’s basemen…”
“No! Of course not!” He laughed.
“Right…”
“No, we…” he tapped it again absent-mindedly, “it was purely for practical reasons, I assure you.”
He stared at the black ink, praying for it to stay black.
“When the other is in danger, it glows red.”
A look of understanding erased the smirk on Sonia’s eyes. She avoided his stare, focusing on the landscape ahead.
“I always wondered how you knew… That you had to leave Romania that day.”
It scared me so much, the way it burned, he thought. I didn’t know where she was until I received her letter. It didn’t have an envelope or a seal. I couldn’t even recognise her handwriting.
He nodded.
A moment of silence passed between them and left Charlie contemplating his future, his plans. Seeing Soule come down from the sky to take a nap by the rocks made him realise he wasn't meant for anything else. This was the life he hoped for in his teens, and the life he wanted to cultivate. If not dragons, what else? But did it need to be in Romania?
These mountains were his dream since he was a child and he was comfortable here, perhaps too much. He wondered if leaving this place, this group of people he could now call friends would feel like a betrayal. To them and himself.
But then he thought of her.
She had worked as hard as him to get into St Mungo’s hospital as a mere apprentice. And she left for him. To follow him here. She got far as a healer in Bucharest’s hospital. And she left for a cause she believed in. She had been offered a position as a herbology teacher once. And she declined for the same reason.
Maybe it was time to return the favour.
Perhaps, after the Apuseni program, if he was chosen to go, it could be the last thing Romania could offer him and that dream he had as a child wasn’t the end of the line but the beginning.
Before the war, they hadn’t discussed much about their plans for a future away from this place, they both had secure positions, a home and they were content with that. He never dared to dream further from that.
Then the war happened, and they were forced to do things they never imagined they could be capable of. And that tranquil life they had shattered along with their possibilities.
Now that it was over, he thought, after everything that they went through, it was time for new dreams.
Kate was in the picture, he used to be sure of it. Now, he hoped.
“Sonia…”
“Hm?” She began putting on her fireproof gloves.
“May I get… some time off?”
The dragon tamer stared at him with an unreadable expression. She seemed to be registering his question as confusion appeared on her face.
“You shouldn’t. Not right before the program starts.”
“After that, it may be too late.” She kept silent and continued to secure her gear. “I think,” he insisted, “I could catch up later, I’m sure. I’m a fast learner. Two weeks tops.”
“Two weeks!”
“Sonia, please. I never take breaks, you know this. I never even quit when all of that happened,” he added, referring to the war. She sighed.
“I know. I just don’t want you to lose this opportunity.”
“I won’t.”
She thought for a moment and then clicked her tongue. “At least stay until the first day.”
“Of course!”
“Hey!”
Both dragonologists turned at the sound of Razvan’s voice, who flew towards them with a frown.
“Am I the only one who works around here or what? We’re supposed to start the scouting in three minutes!”
“Yes,” Sonia added with a nod towards Charlie, “let’s go.”
--
Muddy and sweaty, Charlie apparated in front of his house after an afternoon in the forest. He took off his boots before entering the cabin and made his way to the bathroom for a warm and much needed shower.
After cleaning himself, he stepped out of the bathtub in time to hear scratches on the other side of the door.
“Just wait a moment, Grimoire!”
Charlie imagined the condescending expression of Kate’s cat as it sat in their bedroom.
He opened the door with a towel around his hips just so the animal would stop the assault at the door.
“When Kate’s not here, you become an insufferable pain in the ass.” He accused, changing into a shirt and tracksuit bottoms. Grimoire mewled, clearly letting him know that the sentiment was mutual.
After satiating both appetites, Charlie left the cabin and, using a ladder, checked the rooftop for any sign of Whiskey.
He found the owl sound asleep in the small wooden house he had built for him. The redhead frowned and checked his watch. It was late.
While climbing down, he reminded himself that it meant nothing that Kate hadn’t sent a letter. She was probably having fun with her grandpa. Right?
“Yes. She arrived safe and sound.” He said to Grimoire as he entered again.
He made his way to the kitchen counters, hoping that the routine of putting a kettle on would calm his nerves. He instantly felt better as soon as the tea touched his lips, but the nervousness of what would he say to her and, most importantly, how would she react to seeing him there, remained.
Stopping the spiralling train of thought, he gasped.
Her birthday!
He used to be more thoughtful than that, he thought, but the stress of the war and going back to tons of work at the reserve had left him with no energy to think about presents.
The incorporation to the Apuseni program, if that ever happened, would leave him no time to search for something appropriate. He only had tomorrow to figure it out.
Against all odds and without warning, Grimoire jumped on the seat next to him and, tentatively, rested his head on Charlie’s thigh.
“I know,” he sighed, scratching behind the cat’s ear, “I miss her too. You’ll be fine here on your own? I guess you must. Razvan will come, you know him, to check on you.”
He paused, sipping his tea.
“I don’t even know where to start with her…”
He would get to… Cobh? But where exactly? And even if he found her, how would he manage to put in order the things he should say?
Eyeing the coffee table, he saw some random papers scattered around. With a flick of the wrist, a quill and inkwell floated towards him as he set the cup down. With a determined breath, he started writing.
My dearest,
I don’t know if I will have the courage to show you this letter. Maybe I’ll burn it after I’m finished, maybe I will hide it until I’m ready, or maybe I will be able to speak my mind to your face. You deserve as much, and so much more.
My heart stings every time I come home at night. I watch the lights on the tower where you hide from me and I feel as a failure for not being able to reach you. You’ve closed your mind, only to me? Do I hurt you so that you’ve kept your thoughts to yourself?
I talk to Razvan sometimes, about you and I, about what happened, about Fred if my voice doesn’t betray me. He listens, he tries, and I’m grateful to have found a little solace in his friendship, but he is not the person I burn to reconnect with again.
I miss my best friend, my companion.
Is it because I remind you of your own brother, Jacob, that you can’t find it in your heart to speak to me?
I hear you cry some nights. I know about your nightmares. Often I hold you, selfishly hoping you will wake and hug me back. I don’t know what haunts your dreams, I can imagine, but it feels strange in my stomach that you can’t trust me how you used to.
I guess I’ve been guilty of that too, but for different reasons. There is no one else I would trust with my life but you, but I’m afraid I’ve become a burden to you. I find it difficult to know where I stand, where the limits are, how I should act around you.
But I’ve learnt today, the hard way, after seeing you part from me for the umpteenth time and after observing the creatures that roam these mountains, that my approach has been completely off.
You are not a dragon. Never have been and never will. They come and go or they don’t, they can fly, spit fire, the most absolute chaos can burst in any second, destroying everything around them. To be on good terms with them again, you need to sit still and wait. Make yourself as little of a threat as possible.
But you, my love, you are a feline, and cats can sense when one is not confident enough to handle them. So they scurry away. A change of attitude it’s what’s needed or you’ll just see their tails as they leave the room.
All of this to say I hope you will forgive me.
Once I told you, as you lay in my arms, I whispered to you it would be only fair to follow where you lead.
And now I intend to keep my promise, because it was one, whether you know it or not.
Although I should have been quicker to say it,
I accept your offer, if you’ll have me, and I’ll reunite with you in Ireland if I manage to find where you are.
If after these weeks you still seek a life away from here without me, at least I’ll know that my last decision regarding you wasn’t a disappointment or one that I’ll regret.
But for all it’s worth, I want to start dreaming with you again.
With all the love I can possibly keep in my heart,
Charlie.
Before folding the letter, and with utmost care, he drew with his quill a Serch Bythol at the end of the page, hoping she would understand the meaning behind it.
His heart felt lighter, somehow, having put into words his intentions and motives and, he realised as he lifted the quill, that he hoped for her to read it. When the envelope was closed, he placed a kiss on it.
With Grimoire’s head resting on his thigh and a steaming cup in hand, he stared out of the window, watching the trees sway with the wind. He took a deep breath and enjoyed for the first time in months a quiet afternoon in solitude.
--
A/N. A short one but very much needed, if anyone still cares :) It’s hard writing these days
Next chapter >
#charlie weasley#charlie weasley fanfiction#charlie weasley x jacob's sibling#charlie weasley x oc#charlie weasley x ofc#charlie weasley x kate williams#ottb#our time to bloom
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HOME: Book 6 - CHAPTER EIGHT
MASTERLIST
“This is the twelfth time, Ronnie. Twelfth.”
Veronica chuckled as she and Charlie turned the corner and made their way through the Courtyard. They were on their way to the Quidditch Pitch for the first game of the season, which would see Ravenclaw playing Hufflepuff.
“Yeah, but you know Percy, Charlie. He will come complaining to you if they so much as breathe in a way he doesn’t like. The twins could be doing absolutely nothing, but he’ll manage to find something to complain about.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows and nodded knowingly. “I know. But twelve times, I mean come on. And that’s just this week. I really don’t know how much more I can take.”
Veronica smiled as she shook her head. “I’ll talk to him.”
Charlie pulled her into his side and beamed. “Thanks, Ronnie! You’re the best.”
***
As Veronica stood in the tent and watched her team get ready for the game, she felt her chest tighten and the anxiety she had been feeling since the start of the year had come back tenfold. Quietly, she slipped out of the changing room tent and breathed in the fresh air as she paced back and forth, trying hard not to think about everything that could go wrong during the game.
“Oh no, I know that look. You’re overthinking again… as usual.”
Veronica had her back to the stranger, but she didn’t need to see them to know who they were. She knew that voice like the back of her hand. Spinning around quickly, she ran and jumped into Reggie’s arms, hugging him tightly. “You came! I can’t believe you’re actually here!”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world, V.”
“I’ve missed you so much this year. It’s been hell without you.”
“Oh hush, I’m sure you’ve been doing great.”
Veronica shook her head, but changed the subject, knowing she didn’t have much time. “Do you have anything you need to rush back to or do you have time to grab a Butterbeer after the game?”
Reggie shrugged. “I’m all yours today, so we can grab a Butterbeer, for sure.”
“Yay, I’m so excited to catch up with you!”
“Me too. And you can bring Charlie too if you’d like. I’m sure he’ll want to spend time with you after the game.”
“No, no, no. I see him everyday, but I never get to see you anymore. It’s fine. He’ll survive a few hours without me.” Veronica chuckled before turning at the sound of her name being called from behind her.
“Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but Madam Hooch is looking for you. I think we’re about to get started.”
“All good, thanks Simon. I’ll be right in.”
“Cool. It’s great to see you, Reggie.”
“You too, Simon!”
Once Simon disappeared into the tent, Veronica turned back to her friend. “Well… wish us luck, Reg. I think we’re gonna need it.”
“Don’t do that! You’ll be great! I’ll see you after, okay? Do you want me to come find you here or do you want to meet me at the Three Broomsticks?”
“No, let’s meet there. I’ll have to find Charlie and let him know.”
“So, I take it you and him still haven’t told each other how you feel, huh?”
“Oh Merlin, not this again. I’ve got to go!”
“Veronica! Why–”
“Sorry, I can’t hear you! I’m gone!”
Reggie shook his head and chuckled as he made his way into the commentary box with the professors. Those two could not be more oblivious.
***
Veronica watched as Walker Mathis raced against the Hufflepuff Seeker, each with an arm outstretched. This was it. One of them was about to end the game and win it for their team. The score had been neck and neck the whole game, so this would be the deciding factor.
As Veronica watched him, she thought about how much he had grown into the position over the years. It felt like it was yesterday when he had been the reserve Seeker and replaced Maribelle for a few games when her grades needed to be improved in Veronica’s fourth year. Back then he had been such a shy kid, but over the years, he had gained so much confidence. He had rocked the tryout and had earned the permanent Seeker position. But even the growth and improvement she had seen in him from the tryouts at the start of the season were impressive. She was so proud of him.
“Oof!” Veronica lost all the breath in her lungs as she felt something hard hit her back like a ton of bricks. Turning, she saw one of the Hufflepuff Beaters watching her with fear in their eyes and realized it had been a Bludger. That’s what I get for letting my thoughts distract me. Both Seekers had lost the Snitch, and the game had continued around her without her even noticing.
“Shit, Captain, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were distracted… I should have stopped it from hitting you.”
“No, no. My fault, Mavis. You’re doing great. Keep sending Bludgers my way, we need to get their Seeker out of here.”
***
“Yes! That’s how you do it, Walker! Hell yeah!”
Simon and Veronica lifted the small boy onto one of their shoulders each and cheered as they bounced him up and down, while the whole team jumped around them as they celebrated their first victory of the season.
Putting him down, Veronica put her arm around his shoulders and looked at her team. “You all did bloody brilliant today. Seriously, great job everyone. Now go and celebrate. And for those of you old enough, one round of Butterbeer is on me at the Three Broomsticks. Mavis, there’s always next year, love. This year, you can grab a pumpkin juice from the Great Hall.” Veronica chuckled as she walked them all to the changing rooms, and once they had all changed out of their Quidditch robes, she shooed them out. “And remember, there’s no practice tomorrow! You get a day off. See you all on Tuesday!”
As her team made their way down the path towards the school, Veronica felt arms wrap around her from behind. The smell of vanilla and the outdoors filled her senses, and she felt instantly at home. Turning in his arms, she smiled up at Charlie. “Hi.”
“Hi. Congratulations on your win, that was a great game.”
“You think so? I feel like we could have done better.”
“Ronnie, you’re the Captain. Of course, you’re going to think that. But believe me, it was great.”
Veronica sighed in relief as she lay her cheek on his chest and hugged him tight. “Thanks. It means a lot.”
“Of course, love. You wanna grab a Butterbeer to celebrate?”
Veronica cringed as she pulled away from him slightly. “I’m sorry, Charlie, but Reggie came to watch the game, and I–”
“Oh, gotcha. For sure, it’s all good. I’ll see you later then.”
“I’m sorry, Charlie.”
“It’s fine, Ronnie. Honestly, I know how much you miss him, so this’ll be good for you. Besides, I have to finish that essay for Snape anyway.”
Veronica’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she stared at him. “That essay that he assigned to us last week?” Charlie nodded. “The one that’s due tomorrow?” He nodded again. “The one you told me you finished already!?!”
Charlie chuckled as he scratched his head awkwardly. “Yes! Okay? I know, but I just can’t wrap my head around Golpalott’s Third Law. It isn’t clicking for me.”
“Charlie! He isn’t asking you to brew an antidote for a mixed poison. He’s just asking you to write a bloody essay about the Law. It’s not that hard.”
“For you! It’s hard for me!”
“Then forget it. I’ll tell Reggie I can’t come. I’ll stay and help you.”
Charlie shook his head adamantly and began pushing her towards the path to Hogsmeade. “Absolutely not. You go and have fun. I’m going to the library to bury my nose in some books. Besides, you’ve already tried explaining it, so maybe reading about it will help. If you finish early, I’ll be there, so you can come find me. If not, we’ll meet at dinner.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll see you later!”
#charlie weasley fanfic#charlie weasley imagine#fanfic#fanfiction#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter imagine#harry potter x oc#original character#charlie weasley#creative writing#charlie weasley x oc#charlie weasley story#harry potter story#slow romance#slow build#slow burn#stories#imagines#imagine
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The Royal Queen: The Journey of a Young Duchess.
Chapter 5: Meeting Charlie Weasley.
Summary: With a whirlwind start to her reign, things are finally starting to wind down in the country, the palace and her personal life. But as she discovers the world of politics, she realises that it might be a bit more complicated than she anticipated. So she hires a professor who teaches law and politics, as her tutor, who goes by the name of Charles Weasley, more commonly known as Charlie by his friends and family. Madeline confronts her parents about her education and later goes to a county fair and dance, where she dances the night away.
Warnings: fencing(?) a pinch of angst and a ton of fluff, swearing(like once)
A/N: The exciting part has officially arrived, and the much anticipated Charlie Weasley has entered the scene!!!!!! I'm internally screaming as I wrote this chapter, cus this is way too exciting !!!!! Hope you enjoy this chapter guys!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All of the characters in mention (Except the ones from history) are fictional. The relationships mentioned among these characters aren’t real. I respect all of the characters from history mentioned in the story; the story is in no way written disrespectfully. I am not an expert on history and politics hence the mentions and portrayal of these two subjects are based on my imagination and are not real.
Some time had passed since the coronation and the opening of Parliament. Slowly but surely, the royal household slipped back into the normality of its daily routine at Eallesborough Castle.
Madeline had been rather desolate, always busy with the many new duties her day had been flogged with, never getting a moment for herself. But whenever there were days when she had to only affirm and sign documents or meet the prime minister, Madeline was left to herself, in the eerie silence of her bedroom or office room, where only the scratching of a pen against paper or the rustle of sheets at 11 pm could be heard.
This silence would consume her in depression, like an ominous and dark storm cloud which engulfs every inch of the sky in darkness in its wake. Nights went by without Madeline getting a wink of sleep, staring at the ceiling fan, driving her mad internally, but her face didn't give a single emotion away. After weeks of sleepless nights, Madeline conceded to Rowan's pleading to visit a psychologist for at least one consultation.
Madeline met up with the so-called "Headshrinker" (her words, not Rowan's), with whom, she thought, the meeting would be an absolute waste of time. But surprisingly, it proved to be quite likeable. The doctor diagnosed her with anxiety and depression, prescribing her some medication, and for a while, life went on well.
It was early in the morning when Madeline got up. No one knew where she went, but the moment the staff member, who came with her coffee, was flabbergasted to see her bedroom empty, the whole palace went into panic mode.
---
Rakepick got up from her desk abruptly as the head of the household, Mr Hudson, confessed about the missing queen. She immediately ordered Rowan to look around the front entrance of Eallesborough, along with the extra apartments, while she searched around the castle, followed by a bustling group of staff.
Rakepick rolled her eyes, annoyed as she tried to shoo away the annoying staff, whom she found to be like a comb of noisy bees. The staff were quick to scurry away when they saw her furious expression. Rakepick let out a sigh and returned back to search for the missing queen.
While searching around the back hallway leading to the backyard gardens, she abruptly stopped when she heard grunts and the sounds of a sword's movement. Rakepick opened the door and sighed with relief and annoyance when she saw Madeline fencing with a wooden mannequin.
As the tall redhead approached the queen, she quickly ducked away as Madeline made a feint with her sword. Madeline smirked to herself from inside her helmet.
"Care to join me for a round of fencing, Madam Rakepick?" Madeline quirked a brow. She used the tip of her sword to pick up another fencing sword by the handle, spinning it around the tip and then tossing it over to the older woman, who caught it skillfully.
Rakepick quirked her brow at Madeline, who just shrugged and spun her sword in her hand. Taking the opportunity, Rakepick smirked to herself and charged forward with her sword. Madeline quickly blocked her attack and twisted her blade to turn the charge on Rakepick. But Rakepick too proved to be skilful at the sport as she deflected the attack. The two women went on for a couple of minutes, only focused on the other and the movement of their Epee.
In under fifteen minutes, Madeline had gotten a lead, lunging forward with her sword. But Rakepick, taking advantage of the flexible blade, flicked it in such a manner which disarmed Madeline, declaring her the winner.
Madeline gasped as her sword flew out of her hand and fell beside her, the pointed blade sticking to the ground, making the sword stand as straight as a stick. Rakepick smirked to herself as Madeline sighed, but with a smile on her face nonetheless.
She took off her helmet and mask, placing them on the table beside the mannequin and dropped her sword into a bin full of swords as Rakepick did the same with her sword. The pair quietly walked back inside, not quite sure how to start a conversation. When Madeline shut the door to the back yard she let out a soft breath and turned to face her secretary.
"I'm assuming you didn't just come to have a round of fencing Madam Rakepick," Madeline said. Letting a sigh escape her lips, Rakepick cleared her throat.
"Your majesty, it is simply not acceptable that you leave the household for such a long time without anyone's knowing. You have no idea how much it delayed our schedule," she said with a stern voice.
Madeline scoffed, "I'm sure it wasn't as huge of a problem as you make it sound. Besides, I hadn't left the castle. Is it really that hard for the castle to function for at most an hour without me?"
By this time, the two women had started walking, Madeline walking ahead of Rakepick. The latter frowned at the young queen's disregard and sped up her steps to walk beside Madeline, who pretended as if she wasn't annoyed by the women.
"Your majesty, I do hope you remember that you have a meeting with the prime minister in an hour," Rakepick reminded Madeline. She smirked internally knowing full well that the queen had been too busy in her musings to actually remember the meeting.
Not that she cared about her mental state anyway. She only bothered about getting the work done.
Shit, Madeline thought to herself, why does she always end up forgetting meetings? But she didn't show it. As they walked into the main corridor, Madeline sped up her pace and turned to go to the breakfast hall. Before going inside, she turned to speak to Rakepick.
"I think, as the monarch, I'm quite aware of my duties. But I appreciate you reminding me of them," Madeline pressed her lips into a thin smile before heading inside.
"Absolutely ma'am, after all, it is my duty," Rakepick commented, knowing she had irked Madeline. She smirked and left to prepare her files at her office.
---
After a hurried breakfast, Madeline was quickly escorted to the study room, where the Prime minister was waiting. She entered the Drawing room, where she saw the Prime Minister sitting with her pet dog, Almond. He was happily lying on the sofa next to Mr Richardson, getting belly rubs from the latter.
When he heard the sound of Madeline's heels clicking on the floor, the dog turned around and looked up at Madeline, launching off the sofa. Madeline laughed as Almond snuggled against her leg. She smiled and ushered him out of the room.
"Good morning, Your Majesty", the Prime Minister, Mr Richardson, said as he got up.
"Good morning, Mr Richardson. I'm sorry for the delay, I was a bit busy earlier", Madeline lied through her teeth and sat down on the single sofa opposite the prime minister, "Now, how about we begin where we left off?"
The prime minister gave a curt nod and brought out a file full of newspaper articles and certain documents passed by the parliament that needed the approval of the Monarch.
The morning passed almost instantly with the discussions of economic fluctuations in the market and diplomatic relations with other countries. While Madeline understood a little of everything, certain aspects of economic disparities and political decisions confounded her.
And she hated it.
She drifted off into her thoughts as Mr Richardson continued talking about financial issues. It annoyed her when she was not sure about all the subjects of discussion. While Mr Richardson had helped her a lot to understand many subjects, Madeline felt it was her duty, as monarch, to be aware of all of the aspects of the political, economic and cultural situations that affected the country, her country.
She was brought out of her thoughts when Mr Richardson closed shut his binder full of documents and pushed it forward to Madeline.
"That's all we have to discuss today. These are the papers that need signing, ma'am", Mr Richardson said.
Madeline smiled and got up from her sofa along with Mr Richardson. She extended her hand towards the older man. He smiled and shook her hand before collecting his files.
"I hope to see you at the Prybush ball this weekend then, ma'am", Mr Richardson said as he was heading out. Madeline sucked in a breath with a smile and replied with a curt nod.
"I'm not looking forward too much about the press coverage, but I definitely am looking forward to a nice evening of dancing and music", she chuckled, making Mr Ricahrdson laugh along.
"It's true. Being Prime Minister has been hard work. Every other day I feel like going to a nice country retreat for a holiday! I can't imagine how hard it is for you, ma'am!"
"Yeah, it's been harder than I... anticipated", Madeline said quietly.
"I'm sure you will do alright", Mr Richardson rubbed the back of her affectionately as he held it in his own. He then bowed before her and left the room.
Madeline left the room with her equerry closely following behind. She went back to her study room with the stack of documents. She sat down behind her desk and started studying them closely. The more she sifted through them, the more she started to get confused.
Prolonged and complex words and sentences all firmed a tangled web of confusion in her head. Madeline groaned and fell back on her chair with a sigh.
It was only the first document.
Having no other choice, Madeline went to the library, followed by her butler. Both of them brought back a stack of dictionaries to her study room. Madeline skimmed the first document, letting the stack of books fall with a dull thump on her desk. She marked some of the complicated terms with a pencil and searched the dictionary for their meanings, eventually piecing together the meaning of the statements.
Even though it took a long time, Madeline eventually finished signing and reading all the documents, although it took her 5 hours to do so. She sighed and fell back against her chair, rubbing her eyes. Suddenly there was a knock.
"Come in," Madeline said. the door opened and Rowan entered the room, making Madeline smile a little.
"Long day?" Rowan asked as Madeline nodded.
"I think I need thirty hours a day now. Half the time I know nothing about what the documents are talking about. They all seem like Hebrew to me", Madeline groaned.
"Hmm. All could be resolved if you could've had a tutor though", Rowan half joked as she sat opposite Madeline.
"Yeah", Madeline muttered, dismissing the thought as a joke.
But the more she thought about it as she and Rowan sat in silence, the thought started to make sense.
A tutor! Why hadn't she thought of this before?!
"You know you're a genius, Rowan", Madeline said, getting up abruptly from her chair and standing beside her friend.
"Uhm, Thank you?" Rowan answered unsurely.
"We should hire a tutor! It would be a great help. They could teach me everything and I'm sure no one could refuse the offer of the Queen of the country.
"You're right. I am a genius!" Rowan exclaimed, agreeing with Madeline's idea.
"But Madam Rakepick would never agree to this", Rowan said, her excitement dying.
"Who says she has to know?" Madeline smirked, "While I'm slowly growing to...trust her possibly, at the end of the day, it is my decision about who gets to know what."
"So, Ro, could you please possibly hire someone appropriate?" Madeline pleaded.
"But... Madie... you know this is very risky..." Rowan tried to refuse. But Madeline's puppy dog eyes finally made her agree.
"Fine", Rowan said, a slight smile creeping up her face as she got up to leave.
"Oh, Rowan", Madeline interrupted before her she could leave, "make sure the tutor isn't too old and grumpy and has a sense of humour at least."
"Go it!" Rowan put her thumbs up and left the room as Madeline started to put aside her documents and get ready for a much-needed hearty dinner.
---
It had been a couple days since that conversation. Madeline waited nervously in one of the many palace living rooms, shaking her leg impatiently. Just as Rowan had promised her, she had contacted multiple tutors who were more than willing to help the Queen.
Needless to say, most of them were grouchy-aged men. But with some scouring, Rowan had found a professor at the Royal Oakland University willing to tutor the young queen.
But when Madeline had asked Rowan about the professor, she had refused to tell her more about him, except that he was the same age as her and taught Law and Political Science.
Today Rowan had arranged for him to meet with Madeline hence her being nervous. But she didn't need to wait much. Within a couple minutes of her wait, her equerry pushed open the door and informed her that a "Mister Weasley" was waiting for her. Madeline let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding and asked him to escort the latter in. Within a couple minutes, Madeline's equerry returned, followed closely by a young man.
The first thing Madeline noticed about him was the fiery red and unruly curls that framed his face. His honey-coloured eyes were warm and friendly with a hint of mischievousness. His smile was honest and charming. All of these features were unfamiliar to Madeline and she was intrigued by them. She had never seen such comfortable and kind eyes save for Rowan and Penny.
Madeline felt her lips tug to form a smile and extended her hand to shake his. He gladly shook her hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Weasley-"
"Charlie is fine, Your Majesty. Charlie Weasley," Charles Weasley said with a smile as he bowed, although awkwardly.
"It's quite alright, Mr Weasley. There's no need for that. And call me Madeline", Madeline said with a chuckle when she noticed that the man clearly didn't know how to properly bow.
"Please take a seat", Madeline said, sitting on the sofa. Charlie sat opposite her, putting aside his leather rucksack.
"Before we begin, I saw these and thought it would be a nice gift for you", Charlie said, bringing out a small chaplet of White Lilies and White Roses.
"Oh, thank you", Madeline said with a smile, pleasantly surprised. She got up and put the flowers in an empty vase.
Once she returned to her seat, she asked Charlie, "Now, where do we begin?"
"Perhaps you can begin with your problems. Which areas do you face issues in?" Charlie suggested. He brought out a notebook and looked expectantly at Madeline.
"Well... where to begin?" Madeline started with a nervous chuckle, "When I enter a room full of ministers and highly educated dignitaries, it feels like I know nothing. Even though I'm of a higher rank, I can't even hold a decent conversation with them about politics or culture or administration, things that I'm expected to know in detail. So if you ask me, I barely know anything."
Charlie frowned a little and put aside his notebook at Madeline's answer.
"Do you know what educational qualifications you have?" he asked.
"As in?" Madeline asked, confused.
"As in, what level of education have you completed? Like junior level, secondary level or senior secondary level? Maybe any equivalent?" Charlie asked.
Madeline felt embarrassed. She understood that these were basic educational qualifications that any person, especially someone holding such a high office, should have. But she shook her head, denying that she had any formal education throughout her entire life.
Charlie nodded carefully. There was a moment of silence between the two as Charlie thought to himself.
"Well, let's start from the beginning then, with political science", Charlie said with a smile as he brought out a thick book from his rucksack. He placed it in front of Madeline and opened up the first chapter.
Madeline was a bit taken aback. She had expected him to judge her or pity her. But all she saw in his face was an eagerness to teach and a friendly smile. Madeline felt herself start to feel comfortable in his presence. Something about his friendliness and warm smile made her feel relaxed. She listened intently to his lesson, noting some of the main points in a notebook.
Charlie was undeniably a good professor. He made the dull lesson enjoyable with occasional jokes and fascinating stories. Madeline was in awe of the complex and intricate world of politics that she had never been able to understand completely, which started to become more and more familiar to her.
Unfortunately, Charlie had to leave to attend a seminar at the university. Madeline got up along with him as he gathered his belongings.
"Uhm, before you leave", Madeline interrupted Charlie just as he was about to walk away. He turned to face her as she continued.
"I wanted to thank you for agreeing to tutor me. I know it was a bit odd but I found myself enjoying your class very much so thank you", Madeline said with a smile, "I hope we can meet again for our classes?"
"With pleasure Madeline," Charlie said with a charming smile, "I hope we can be friends, more than just being teacher and student."
"I would bet on it", Madeline said, making Charlie chuckle.
"Also, Uhm, could this and the future meeting stay a secret?" Madeline said. Charlie signed, zipping his mouth shut. Madeline laughed a little. The two walked to the door, after which Charlie left with a last smile.
After Charlie left, Madeline felt a sense of excitement for their next meeting, which left a permanent smile on her face for the rest of the day.
---
It was the evening before the Ball at Prybush, the Capital city. It was Madeline's first public Ball which would undeniably be covered extensively by the media.
Madeline was busy practising her speech for the opening of the Ball while Penny helped her dress, so she could charm the crowds. After she helped Madeline get into a chemise and an underskirt, Penny left to find a dress from the selection provided by some designers.
"Which one do you think we should go with?" she asked Madeline, holding up a sleek wine-coloured dress in one hand and a light pink A-line gown in another.
"Uhm... the pink...maybe?" Madeline said unsurely and quickly returned to murmuring the speech under her breath.
Penny sighed exasperatedly and went back to looking through the gowns again. She audibly gasped with delight when she saw a pink floral gown with off-shoulder bell sleeves. It was simple yet romantic, just what the ball needed.
With the dress and a pair of matching flowery gloves in hand, Penny came back, only to see Madeline pacing around in her room, busy memorising the speech. Shaking her head, she approached the young queen and took the sheet of paper from her hand eliciting a groan from the latter.
"You won't be getting that back from me now", Penny said with a mischievous smirk, "Come now, into the dress you get."
After a moment of annoyance from Madeline and some struggling, Madeline finally got the dress on. Penny pushed her in front of the mirror, forcing her to look at herself as she did her hair.
It was gorgeous. She looked gorgeous.
Madeline looked different. The dress was not something she would have picked for herself. It was unlike the darker colours that she usually wore. It added a certain softness to her features which was complimented by the soft smile which had crept onto her face.
"I would say I've outdone myself this time," Penny smiled proudly as she to looked at Madeline's reflection with a proud smile.
"I second that," Madeline said with a chuckle.
Penny then put a dainty diamond chain necklace and matching earrings on Madeline. She then sat Madeline down in front of the vanity. She handed her the gloves eliciting a groan of annoyance from the latter.
"Do I have to put these on? You know how feel about gloves," Madeline protested.
"I do, but it is the protocol that you wear gloves during evening balls," Penny said as she did Madeline's makeup.
"I know, I know. It's just... they're itchy and annoying. And they make me feel more upper class than I'd like to admit," Madeline muttered with annoyance. She begrudgingly put on the gloves as Penny tutted and continued to put on Madeline's makeup.
After a couple minutes, Madeline was ready to go to the ball. She walked down the grand stairs to the entrance of the Palace. There she was met by the ever-serious Mdam Rakepick. They both got into the black cars and set off for the city.
It was only a few minutes until they reached the City Hall. The moment Madeline stepped out of the car, she plastered a smile on her face and turned to face the cameras and media.
For a moment, she was blinded by the constant camera flashes. But after a second to adjust, she focused her eyes on the crowd and waved at them. The throng of journalists and paparazzi cheered for the young queen, boosting her confidence.
She waved one last time at the people before climbing up the stairs and into the City Hall. On entering the hall, she was greeted by the sweet yet intoxicating smell of champagne as the soft ballroom music flowed freely.
The guests inside stood when Madeline walked in. Everyone smiled in awe at the young queen and clapped at her entrance, making Madeline smile too. The Prime Minister, his wife and the Mayor and his wife stood up to greet her.
"Your majesty", The prime minister said with a bow. Madeline smiled and nodded her head curtly in a reply
"Your majesty, it truly is an honour to have you here," the mayor greeted Madeline after the Prime Minister stepped aside.
"It is me who is honoured, Mister Mayor," Madeline said, smiling politely. The mayor bowed and offered his arm for her to take. Madeline accepted and linked her elbow with his. They both walked to the centre of the hall. Everyone clapped as the young queen waved at the guests with a wide smile.
A young waiter handed her a glass of champagne for her to toast. Taking the crystal goblet in one hand, she began her speech.
"Mr Mayor, Mr Prime Minister, ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure and honour to be a part of this incredible Ball, which has been hosted in honour of a long line of sovereigns. After today, I hope that I do all of the people proud as sovereign of this country. But for now, I hope everyone enjoys themselves tonight," Madeline finished, raising her glass for a toast. The guests all toasted their glasses in unison before returning to chatting or feasting.
Through the next couple minutes, Madeline was greeted by the nobles and dignitaries who were attending the ball. She made polite small talk with all of them under the watchful eye of Rakepick, although she felt bored and out of place in most of those conversations.
Stepping aside after some time, Madeline decided to munch on some of the locally sourced food. While taking a bite of her food, she saw Madam Rakepick approaching from the corner of her eye. She stuffed the last bite of the ceviche into her mouth before walking up to the older woman.
"I hope you're enjoying the party", Madeline remarked, not exactly hoping to get an answer.
"I've never been one to enjoy parties, ma'am," Rakepick scoffed, "to me, it is a waste of time and words, something which we are already in a deficit of."
Madeline pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. "You know," she said, "I don't particularly enjoy these parties and balls either."
Rakepick looked at the young queen from the corner of her eye with a hint of suspicion, not expecting her to agree.
"You don't have to agree with me," she replied emotionlessly, sipping on a glass of champagne.
"I'm not," Madeline replied, "has it occurred to you that we might share the same opinion?"
"... It's not something I expected," Rakepick replied briefly, "but I suppose it is a possibility."
"Look, Madam Rakepick, I know you aren't quite as friendly with me. But I do expect us to at least get along," Madeline sighed, frowning.
Rakepick remained expressionless for a second. Then she nodded, with what appeared to be a small smile.
"I too hope that we can eventually form a friendship, ma'am," She replied, shocking Madeline a little, but she smiled in reply.
"I hope you enjoy this event, ma'am," the auburn-haired lady said before curtsying and leaving Madeline to continue to mingle with the guests
While conversing with some people, she noticed a young man with messy black hair, round glasses and mossy green eyes standing in a corner by himself. Recognising the young noble, she walked towards him, glad to have seen a familiar face. The man noticed the queen approaching him and straightened himself. He bowed before her, making Madeline smile gently.
"Lord Potter, fancy seeing you here," Madeline said, a smirk forming on her face.
"Well, I-I had a free evening, so I decided to stop by," Harry replied sheepishly.
"It's good to get away from duty for a while, you know. Even if it is only for one evening," Madeline smiled. Harry replied with a nod and the pair turned to look at the crowd.
A peaceful silence fell between the two as people danced the night away. Madeline soon noticed Harry smiling, looking at a young red-haired girl dancing away on her own amongst the people, her smile bright and carefree. Madeline smiled to herself. Then an idea struck her.
"Go talk to her," Madeline encouraged Harry. He looked at her with confusion for a moment before refusing. Seeing that he was too shy to approach her, Madeline grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him to the dance floor, ignoring the younger man's confused reluctance.
"Listen to me, go and ask her to dance with you, Harry," Madeline said almost sternly.
"But-"
"No buts, go ahead! She looks to be free now. Go, will you!" Madeline said, ushering him to the dance floor. Harry sighed and looked at the girl he had been admiring. With one last encouraging smile and nod from Madeline, he left to approach her.
From a distance, Madeline saw Harry approach the girl shyly and ask her to dance, to which she happily agreed. She smiled to herself, satisfied, as she saw them dancing away, dreamy smiles on their faces.
"Young love's always adorable, isn't it?" Madeline turned around and saw the warm and friendly hazel eyes with which she had first familiarized herself a few days back.
"Professor Weasley? I wasn't expecting to see you here," Madeline said with a surprised look.
"Please don't call me that, makes me sound ancient," Charlie said, feigning annoyance.
"Then I shall make it my ultimate mission to call you that always," Madeline joked, making Charlie and her laugh.
"You still haven't answered my question though," Madeline pointed after they both recovered from their fit of laughter.
"I actually came along with my family. That's my sister dancing with the young lad," Charlie pointed at the red-haired girl chatting with Harry. He then pointed her to his family who were standing amongst the crowd. From there she noticed Bill Weasley too standing with them.
"Oh, so Bill Weasley is your brother," Madeline remarked with a smirk, "didn't he ever mention meeting me?"
"Actually, he did, but I guess I never knew which "Madeline" he was talking about. He said her identity was a secret," Charlie remarked.
"All good things said, I hope?" Madeline quirked a brow at him.
"Only the best, Madeline," Charlie replied with a playful grin.
The pair continued to watch the crowd of dancers at the ball. Suddenly, the music changed from the merry tune being played earlier to a more slowed and romantic waltz. Many couples started to dance to romantic music.
"Dance with me?" Charlie suddenly asked Madeline, a lopsided grin gracing his face.
Madeline smiled to herself and replied, "With pleasure," as she accepted his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor.
Charlie looked at Madeline for a split second, silently asking permission as his hand hovered beside her waist, to which Madeline nodded and placed her hand on his shoulder as he gently placed his on her waist. Taking his hand in hers, the pair spun in circles, shuffling their feet to the slow, rhythmic music. As she sensed herself getting lost in the rhythm, Madeline's chocolate brown eyes connected with Charlie's hazel eyes, a mix of warm honey and cinnamon with a hint of grassy green.
"So, how did you enjoy our first lesson?" Charlie asked, breaking the silence, a hint of nervousness evident in his voice.
"I actually loved it! It was brilliant learning about this subject from you. I hope we can do it again," Madeline replied with a smile, making Charlie let out a breath he unconsciously held onto and smile. Charlie then spun Madeline in his arms, almost making her trip, but he quickly helped steady her. The two went back to swaying casually to the beat.
"I'm glad you did, cus I did too. I'm looking forward to doing it again... this Thursday maybe?"
"It's settled then. I'll meet you this Thursday." Madeline smiled, "I'm actually surprised you liked teaching me," Charlie frowned with confusion at Madeline, the song playing in the background long forgotten by them.
"I mean... I know nothing, and you know so much. All I do is cut ribbons, smile agreeably and wave at people. My life is defined by what dresses I wear and whom I smile at, while yours is represented by the vast world of this incredible and convoluted subject" Madeline heaved a sigh, her emotions unclear from her expression.
"Hey, give yourself some credit," Charlie said softly. He slowly moved his body closer to her and continued, "What you do is something very few can do. It's admirable how you keep yourself so composed after all you've already been through. So I disagree about you being bland because you are one of the most fascinating people I have ever met in my life." Charlie replied with firmness and confidence.
Madeline felt blood rush to her cheeks and a smile form on her lips at Charlie's words. It was true that she barely gave herself any credit for what she did. But hearing Charlie's words solidified how little she gave herself credit for. Yet his words provided her comfort and faith about her work, a compliment, something that anyone rarely told her, let alone actually mean it.
"Thank you for that, Charlie," Madeline replied softly.
"I consider it my priority, my Queen," Charlie winked at Madeline with a playful smirk making Madeline chuckle and shake her head dismissively.
Suddenly, the music changed to a classic Mozart piece, one of Madeline's favourites. The melody was gentle yet romantic, making one lose a sense of reality.
Madeline and Charlie continued to dance the night away in their careless dances. They weren't sure what style of dance they were doing. Between Madeline tripping constantly and Charlie almost confusing the right from the left, it was an absolute mess. But they didn't care. It was the company that mattered. They spent the rest of the evening laughing at random jokes and talking about their lives. It was as if they'd known each other for years. It was a magical night for the start of a new friendship.
And maybe something more.
#royal au#royal fashion#charlie weasley x oc#charlie weasley#madeline orionswan#hphm#hphm charlie#harry potter fanfiction#hphm mc#royalty au#princess diana#rowan khanna#penny haywood#madam rakepick#alternate au#harry potter hogwarts mystery
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Posting this here again because I can’t stop staring at it 🥺💜🥹 Makes me feel dreamy and inspired. ✨
I’ll share the links if anyone is wanting to read- but please be mindful of the content warnings 🚩✌🏻
It’s a romance story for those that are +18 only 💜 There’s an age gap relationship with very sexual themes, so please proceed with caution.
Available on ☀️🌈
Wattpad (Always posted here first) ✨
Ao3 ❤️
Quotev ✨
#charlie weasley#charlie weasley x oc#charlieweasley#💜✨#charlie weasley smut#hp fanfcition#ao3#wattpad#quotev
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Friendly Fire
Charlie Weasley x OC
Happy birthday to my favourite, morally-so-grey-it's-questionable OC Ava Campbell! I was told I'm not allowed to give her angst for her birthday, so have whatever this is, instead 💙
A/N: Kaari Arcano (in mention) belongs to @kathrynalicemc
Noble goals were a nice thing to have. Unfortunately, like any charitable endeavour, every goal - as noble as it might be - required one thing: money.
Growing up in a family with six siblings, a ghoul, and only one breadwinner, money had been perpetually tight for Charlie Weasley, which was why he had learned how to keep a budget early on. Looking at the amounts of money needed to maintain a dragon sanctuary, however, Charlie found these to be of a dimension exceeding his wildest dreams.
Getting your hands on enough Galleons to secure the new, much-needed addition to the Romanian Dragon sanctuary wasn't an easy task if you happened to be a simple dragonologist, which was why the main hall of Gringotts Wizarding Bank was presently filled with people dressed in their best evening robes. It was the Ministry of Magic's annual charity event, where it would be decided which organisations would benefit from the next distributions of their generous funding. Representatives of organisations from all across the board had flocked to the event, ready to charm their way into the hearts and purses of the witches and wizards responsible for the funds.
Needless to say, Charlie hated it.
He and his colleague Felix Rosier were keeping to the side of the big room with its gleaming marble floors, at least for the moment. Charlie's eyes wandered over the colourful mix of people in front of him, dancing to the music of the string quartet or chatting and laughing about jokes that probably weren't even funny. He hooked one of his fingers underneath the bowtie around his neck and pulled, but it only increased the feeling of tightness in his throat.
"You're only making it worse," Felix sternly said next to him. He was dressed in forest green dress robes that looked way too expensive to be afforded by his dragonologist's wage alone. "The more you fiddle with it, the more you'll hate it."
"If possible," Charlie muttered but let his hand sink anyway. "I don't get why the boss sent us, of all people. This is a waste of time."
"Because we're good-looking and persuasive," Felix replied. With a slight grin, he added, "or at least one of us is."
"Yeah, I don't know why she wanted you to come either."
"Careful, Weasley. Continue like this and I'll abandon you to deal with the joys of butt-kissing all by yourself."
Chuckling into his very small and probably very expensive drink, Charlie changed the topic. "Who do we have to charm anyway? They all look the same to me."
"See those wizards standing by the big scales over there?" Felix said and discreetly nodded his head in the direction of two men in understated but impeccably tailored dress robes. They had an effortless air of authority about them and were surrounded by at least half a dozen people.
"Who are they?"
"Malcolm Mintington and Salif Sterling. They are the chairmen of the funding panel. It's a democratic vote, but most other members do as they say. If you can convince them to support us, the money is as good as ours."
Charlie's brows knit together in a frown. "If I can convince them?"
Felix shrugged. "Sterling and my family aren't exactly on good terms. I would do more damage than good here."
"And you didn't think of telling me that earlier?"
"And miss the party? As if." Felix winked and took a sip of his champagne. The mischievous look on his face vanished and made way for a concerned frown. "Wait, is that who I think it is?"
Charlie turned his head in the direction Felix was looking in, his eyebrows shooting up as he spotted the woman making her way towards Mintington and Sterling. Her long, platinum blonde hair was woven into an intricate plait that fell over her shoulder, and her lips were painted in a bright, alluring red. She wore a floor-length black dress that was scandalously tight and hugged her body in all the right places. Once the two wizards laid eyes on her, she broke into a charming smile Charlie knew all too well. And really, not even a second later, she had engaged the two men in a conversation.
Charlie cursed under his breath. "What is she doing here?"
"I don't know. She works for Gringotts, maybe that's why."
"Then why is she making eyes at the chairmen? Gringotts has enough money to fund their Curse-Breakers. They don't need ours."
"Only one way to find out," Felix shrugged and nudged Charlie forward. With a dark look, Charlie put down his drink, righted his bowtie, and set off to go and save the new Horntail reserve they so desperately needed.
He hadn't even reached the group when their laughter reached his ears. The two men were hanging from the woman's red lips, and the number of supplicants surrounding them had dramatically reduced. A firm resolution overcoming him, Charlie put on his most charming smile and laid his hand on the woman's shoulder from behind.
"Ava," he said cheerfully, "what a surprise seeing you here."
Ava Campbell ceased her anecdote on the depictions of animal idols of the native tribes of Ethiopia and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Charlie," she smiled, her eyes flashing, "I could say the same of you. Tired of dragon dung and rainy days in gloomy old Romania?"
"Never. How about you? Tired of dust and bones and ancient things?"
Ava's red lips pulled into a half-smile. "Never. I'm not here on Gringotts duty."
"You aren't?"
"No. I'd love to tell you about it, but as you can see, I'm busy. Gentlemen, where were we?"
Her smile froze when Charlie didn't drop his hand off her shoulder and he addressed the very confused-looking chairmen. "Would you excuse us for a second? There are some things I need to ask Miss Campbell about."
"No, of course not, Mr… what was your name?"
"Weasley."
"Weasley as in Arthur Weasley? Well, of course, where else would you belong?" one of the two Ministry officials smiled as Charlie nodded. "Go ahead, but promise to bring Miss Campbell back to us - we need to hear the end of that riveting story about goat worshipping."
"That's a promise," Ava winked over her shoulder as Charlie led her to the side of the room. When they were out of earshot, she turned to him, the look on her face suddenly hard.
"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You've ruined my shot!"
"And look how sorry I am. What game are you playing at, Ava?"
"Not a game," Ava said, suddenly evasive. "I need funding."
"What could a Gringotts Curse-Breaker possibly need funding for?"
"I told you, it has nothing to do with Gringotts."
"What then?"
"It's for a friend."
"A friend who can't come and get the funding himself?"
"Apparently not."
"What friend?"
Ava raised her chin. "That's none of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a story to finish."
She meant to push past him, but Charlie stepped in her way. Ava didn't retreat from him, making the two of them stand so close that Charlie could smell the lilac scent of her perfume.
"The reserve needs the money."
"So does my friend."
"Alright, if that's how you want to play..." Charlie held out his hand. "May the best one win."
"Reckless," Ava said, looking him up and down with a smirk. "Are you sure you can handle defeat, Weasley?"
"I don't know. I'll find out another day."
Ava and Charlie shook hands before returning to Mintington and Sterling, around whom a new cluster of people had already formed.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," Ava said as she pushed to the front of the group, Charlie close on her heels. "Where were we?"
"Good to have you back, Miss Campbell. I believe you wanted to tell us about the hazardous war the worshippers of the Horned Goat waged against the zealots of the Great Dragon. Where did you say it happened? The Atlas Mountains?"
"Yes," Ava beamed, "see, the latest historical finds from Northwestern Africa suggest -"
"Talking about goats, do you know how many goats it takes to feed a Hungarian Horntail to satisfaction?" Charlie suddenly butted in. He didn't like how all attention - some eyebrows raised, some drawn together - turned to him, but neither did he like the idea of letting Ava win.
"Do enlighten us, Mr Weasley," Malcolm Mintington said, sounding more confused than anything.
"Ten. Ten goats per animal. They can go for several days without food but prefer to eat every other day. In our sanctuary in Romania, we took charge of three additional Horntails last year alone. Their hunting grounds are vast, just like their appetite," Charlie explained, feeling more comfortable by the minute. "Do you want to know how Horntails hunt? They chase down their prey to the point of exhaustion. You'd think they kill it with their dragonfire, but Horntails prefer their meat raw. They use the spikes on their tail to maul their prey to death."
"That sounds gruesome," Sterling said. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he couldn't wait for Charlie to continue. Satisfied with the result, Charlie opened his mouth to do so when Ava took a step forward, only slightly, but enough to pull the focus back on her.
"Do you know what else is gruesome? In Sweden, ancient druid cults would choose one among their ranks every winter solstice to be sacrificed to their gods. The chosen one was led to a place where Swedish Shortsnouts would gather, and the man burned alive and torn to pieces. The remaining ashes were gathered and mixed with sacred earth and crushed herbs. The ointment they created from it was used to hallow weapons, charms and other objects. It was considered the greatest of honours."
"Talking about ashes," Charlie intercepted again," we had a Horntail once who was driven out of its chosen habitat because the population became too big. It was so distressed that it settled right in the middle of our reserve, crushed the administration hut and set the medical unit on fire. It took fifteen dragonologists to relocate it."
"I remember the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures talking about it," Sterling whispered to his colleague. "They were in a jiffy about it for weeks."
"It was chaos," Charlie nodded, "and probably quite expensive for the Ministry to fund the necessary rebuilds. An incident like this should be avoided at all costs in the future. With additional spaces for new Hungarian Horntails to settle, for example."
"What's a bit of charred wood against knowledge lost to the ages?" Ava snorted. "During my last assignment in Egypt, one of the Curse-Breakers working in our unit touched a serpent idol we found in one of the tombs, like the absolute git that he was. It was exquisitely crafted, unlike anything we had ever seen. When he touched it, it set off a succession of curses that knocked half our team out, collapsed the burial chamber and then dissolved into dust. Had we known more about what this dragon idol symbolised, a tragic loss like this could have been avoided."
Charlie remembered the incident from recounts, but he wasn't entirely sure if Ava was more upset about her colleagues getting hurt than she was about the artefact being destroyed.
"All knowledge of people long dead," he told her, earning himself a withering glance. "A new compound for the Romanian dragon reserve could help provide us with knowledge actually helpful in keeping our workers safe and animals alive. We could even start a second attempt at a breeding program."
"The knowledge of those people long dead could help us in more ways than you can even imagine," Ava hissed, now turning to Charlie fully. She spoke very pointedly, telling Charlie that her patience was running thin. "There's evidence that furthering our understanding of the lore of dragon-worshipping could help us repair the relationship between dragons and wizardkind for good!"
Charlie cocked an eyebrow. "A dragon-wizard utopia? Really?"
"Baby dragons? Really?" Ava shot back. "Someone should have taught you how to hold a gripping presentation that actually makes sense."
"You're not even specialising in dragons. That's my field of expertise if you remember."
"That's my business. Now go mind your own."
"I would, but it's hard when you come in and interfere," Charlie said, looking her up and down and lowering his voice so that only Ava could understand his next words, "especially when you're wearing a dress like this."
Ava's posture changed as her lips drew into a smirk. "What? Am I making you nervous?"
"Not me, them."
"Good," Ava smiled sweetly, "because all is fair in love and war."
Charlie was about to reply, but instead, a curse escaped his lips. He and Ava had been so caught up in their discussion that neither of them had noticed Malcolm Mintington and Salif Sterling slowly backing away from them. They were now standing a few feet ahead of them, talking to a rather wild-looking man about Charlie's and Ava's age with long black hair and a beard; Charlie recognised him as Kaari Arcano, one of the dragonologists from the dragon reserve in Fossan, Norway.
Kaari Arcano's dress robes looked shabby, and there was an odd lump bulging out his breast pocket. As Charlie looked closer, he could have sworn that the bulge was moving. For a split second, he thought a tiny green-scaled head was poking from the pocket, but before Charlie could look twice, it had vanished again. When the three men laughed and shook hands a moment later, Charlie sighed deeply, turning away to notify Ava about what he had seen, but she, too, had already gone.
The rest of the evening was uneventful and after having lost his shot with the funding commission, Charlie saw no point in staying much longer. He left the glittering halls of Gringotts and shortly after found himself in the quiet streets of South-East London, close to the whispering trees of Greenwich Park. The door to the small flat off King William Walk was locked, so Charlie leaned against the wall and waited.
It didn't take long for Ava to arrive.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest, which Charlie had to admit added immensely to the appeal of her dress.
"I need a place for the night."
"You lost our game. What makes you think I'd let you sleep here?"
"You lost, too. And who said anything about sleeping?"
Ava chuckled, stepping close enough to Charlie that he could pick up the scent of her perfume again. "Too bad I don't have a key with me."
"How so?"
Ava looked down at herself and laughed again, decidedly more mischievous this time. "Where would I hide a key in this dress?"
Charlie's eyes trailed her silhouette. "I have some ideas."
He put his hands on her hips and drew her in, kissing her red lips like he had wanted to for the whole evening. Ava's hands brushed down his sides, then left him as she produced her wand from the holster she wore around her thigh, easily accessible through a slit in her dress that Charlie hadn't noticed before but suddenly found very intriguing. Still kissing him, Ava tapped her wand against the doorknob, and the door sprung open with a click.
"A shame Fossan got the money in the end," Charlie said between kisses as Ava pushed him back into the darkness of her flat. "You'd think they're rich enough to pay for themselves."
"Rumour has it the guy they sent had a miniature dragon in his pocket," Ava mumbled, playfully biting Charlie's lower lip. "Can you believe that?"
Charlie said something into her ear that made Ava laugh out loud. She ran her hands through his ginger hair and kissed him again. "Next time, I'll get the money, just you wait. My friend would have loved to get his new Horntail reserve for Christmas."
Charlie grinned in response, laughing as Ava squealed when he picked her up and carried her towards her bedroom. "With that case you made? Never."
"Was that a challenge, Weasley?"
"Bet on it, Campbell."
#hphm#hogwarts mystery#golden era#charlie weasley#charlie weasley x oc#ava campbell#felix rosier#happy birthday ava#oc birthday
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Keira's eyes watered in spite of the bubble head charm protecting her from the noxious fumes that filled the air. Despite the Ecuadorian Reserva de Criaturas Magicas being protected from most outside influences, Tungurahua's eruption had made the air unbreathable for a majority of the the creatures in the reserve, as well as the witches and wizards that worked there, one of whom, was Keira Holloway: Vault Opener; Curse Breaker; Legilimens; and Magizoologist Extraordinaire.
It had been nearly a decade since she had graduated from Hogwarts along with most of her classmates and had pursued her love of magical creatures all the way to the Cordillera Real in Ecuador. Her Outstanding grades as well as her work with magical creatures while at Hogwarts helped to fast-track her career as she worked with dugbogs, basilisks and clabberts on a daily basis.
Keira's time in the Andes Mountains brought her heaps of research on rare and secluded creatures that had only been the stuff of myth and legend, such as the ccoa: a cat-like creature with phosphorescent eyes that shed tears of hail. These creatures had long been regarded as evil when they brought ruin to crops with their tears, but Keira and her team discovered that they were misunderstood creatures that sought to cool down an ever rising climate.
The ccoas, now, were prancing through the trees, tears sizzling as they met the scorched earth. "We need to get them out of here!" Keira called to Enzo, a fellow magizoologist as water erupted from his wand extinguishing the nearby trees.
"Here!" He called and tossed a brown leather bag to Keira. She aimed at the ccoas and opened the nab-sack. Air and magic began to swirl as the beasts were magically sucked into the bag. Catching a creature in the nab-sack was usually a difficult task that required subduing the beasts before attempting to capture them. The ccoas, however, seemed to dive into the open bag willingly.
"That's the last of them!" Keira yelled as she secured the clasps of the bag that held numerous magical beasts. Keira and Enzo were only one of the teams sent to save the beasts from the volcano's wrath and it seemed their job was done. "Let's head back to the base and…" Keira's voice was drowned out by the earth shaking beneath her feet and a thick, black smoke rising from a fresh crack in the earth. Thick, viscous magma spurt from the fissure and spattered across her dragon-hide armour.
"Glacius!" Enzo cried. The molten hardened instantly into obsidian crystals as the ice spell chilled her to her bones momentarily.
"Good call on the armour." She smirked as she broke the obsidian off her torso and admired the glass-like substance. The soot-filled air danced whimsically against the orange glow of the magma slowly pooling on the ground. That was when she saw it reflected in the black glass in her hand. An ovoid shaped object just bigger than the bag she carried nestled amongst the bubbling magma. It was as black as the obsidian she held and the fiery light that surrounded it reflected just as clearly. Golden spines protruded from the body, giving it a pinecone like appearance. The glass fell from her hand as she reached out to touch it, her heart pounding in her ears so loud all external noises faded away. Her gloved fingers slid across the glassy surface of the object and felt the thumping of her heart intensify. Her hands gripped tightly to the sleek object and lifted it with relative ease.
She suddenly saw the reflection of Enzo kneeling beside her, eyes fixed upon the item she held. "Is that an egg?"
~
Keira and Enzo had apparated to a prearranged location a few miles north of the muggle town of Banõs to meet up with the rest of their co-workers far enough from Volcán Tungurahua that they would be safe. From their vantage point nestled within a new range of mountains within the Andes they were able to see the full scale of Voculá Tungurahua's destruction, even from fifteen miles away.
The magizoologists worked throughout the night to put up new protection spells in the area they had chosen to be the new Reserva de Criaturas Magicas. The Andes Mountains provided them with natural protection from muggles along with streams, lakes and forests for the magical beasts to live freely. Once the tents had been erected and the necessary charms were cast, they were able to free the captured beasts from their nab-sacks.
With the beasts finally safe, Keira brought the egg she found to the attention of the director of the reserve; Vera Montilla.
"Fascinating…" Vera gaped as she ran her fingers along the lustrous obsidian egg. "I've never seen anything like it before. Many beasts lay eggs..." She paused as she opened a text and began to list. "Dragons, occamies, basilisks, phoenixes… with the size and shape, my first guess would be dragon, but I have never seen a dragon egg like this before." The silver haired witch affixed her bulbous spectacles atop the bridge of her nose and gazed closely at the golden spines. "These spines are similar to the egg of a Chinese Fireball." She muttered. "Perhaps a subspecies or hybrid?"
Keira leaned against the table the egg was sitting upon, and gazed at her dark reflection. They needed a dragonologist, but most of them worked at the various dragon reserves. Keira felt butterflies swirling in her stomach at the mere thought of asking him. "I know a dragonologist." She said, never turning her eyes from her own reflection. "He might be able to help us."
~
Keira tapped her quill nervously on the parchment laid out before her. What was she doing? Charlie is much too busy to drop everything and come to Ecuador on a whim. You would do it for him. The thought tolled in her mind like a bell, waking her to the reality of her situation. Keira and Charlie had been friends since their fourth year of Hogwarts. Their friendship bloomed fast, and together they had opened vaults and broken curses, played quidditch and studied magical creatures. Keira had even spent many Christmases and summers at the Burrow along with Charlie, Bill and the rest of the Weasleys.
Charlie,
How are you? How's Romania? Alright, enough pleasantries, I'll cut to the chase. A volcano close to the reserve erupted yesterday and while we were evacuating the beasts a fissure opened up and inside was an egg. I've provided a picture along with this letter of said egg. We think it may be some kind of dragon, but we have not seen anything like it before. I'm just wondering if you or any of your colleagues can provide insight on whether or not it is a dragon egg, and which species it might belong to. I look forward to hearing from you. We will have our new floo network up and running by the time this reaches you, if you decide this is worth your time.
Keira paused, the ink from her quill pooled on the parchment as she contemplated what to write next. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but she decided to keep it short and just sign her name.
***
Charlie yawned as he rose from his cot and scratched his ruffled ginger mop. The sky was lightening yet the sun had not yet risen. His shift began in a few hours, but Charlie had found that the enthusiasm he once had for his job had been harder to come by since the events of the previous year.
So many people had lost their lives in the fight against Voldemort, so many of them were his friends, family and schoolmates. The reality of seeing Fred's lifeless body in the Great Hall and the cries of his mother as she wept for her child had left him feeling empty inside. His only solace in that time was seeing Keira, broken, but alive.
○○○
The numbness had not faded since the famed Battle of Hogwarts. It had been a long month of funerals, memorials and meetings. The Order of the Phoenix had shrunk significantly, yet now, with all the remaining members in one place Charlie realised just how large the Order really was.
They had all gathered together at the newly reconstructed Burrow for their last meeting for the foreseeable future. While it was a somber occasion, there was joy to be found within the group. Charlie watched as his siblings found comfort in their respective partners. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the idea of having someone to help lift you out of your darkest moments.
Morosely, he made his way up the stairs towards his childhood bedroom. It was comforting that his mum and dad kept all of their rooms just the same as when they went to Hogwarts. It let them know that they were always welcome back home. As he entered his room he was surprised to see Keira sitting dejectedly on his bed with her head hung low.
Upon his entrance, Keira lifted her head, her eyes wet with tears and gave him a sad smile. "Hi." She whispered.
Charlie had sat beside her before he knew what was happening. "You're hiding too?" He asked.
She nodded. "Emotions are high. It's just all too much." She smiled sadly. "Percy can't stop seeing Fred die, George is having an identity crisis and Bill can't stop blaming himself for not being there to prevent it." Her voice was shaky as she spilled forth the information that had been weighing on her mind.
Charlie's eyes widened in shock. "What? How do you know…?" The words left his lips as soon as he saw her tap the side of her head. Legilimency. Keira was not one to pry into the minds of her friends, but Charlie knew that she had trouble controlling it around people who were experiencing strong emotions. Her distress over his brothers' pain, especially Bill's, was not surprising to him as he had suspected that Keira had feelings for Bill from the moment he met her. It had been a great disappointment to his adolescent self who became more enamored with the clever young girl with each game of gobstones.
"I didn't mean to…I'm just..." Her bright blue irises shone like whisps against the redness of her eyes. Without another word she wrapped her arms tight around his broad chest and made it feel lighter than it had in months. His arms quickly encompassed her small frame and he allowed himself to breathe in her familiar woodsy scent.
Charlie had never once felt lonely growing up. He always had family or friends around to keep him company when he needed it, but now his home felt emptier than ever though it was filled. Not even when he moved to Romania to study dragons did he feel the emptiness that he now felt inside.
To Charlie's dismay, Keira pulled out of his arms and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Charlie. So much has happened and I'm making this about me." She looked solemnly into his chestnut eyes. "How are you?"
"It's been rough." He confessed. "Most days I can't find the will to get out of bed let alone shave." He gestured to the stubble lining his freckled cheeks as of late. "But I'll survive."
Softly, Keira ran her fingers along his fuzzy face. The gesture caught him off guard and immediately he felt his pulse quicken. "It suits you." She smiled, reassuringly. Noted. He thought as her fingers lingered.
All at once, Charlie was overcome with a swell of emotion. The loss of his brother, the victory over Voldemort, and his love for his best friend washed over him and blinded him to the reality that Keira had never been interested in him that way. She was so close to him, with one hand on his cheek and the other resting on his scarred and tattooed forearm. With less than a foot between them, Charlie did not have far to travel to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.
The moment must have lasted only seconds, but for Charlie it felt like time had stopped completely. The soft caress of her lips on his sent shivers down his spine as he felt her hand tighten on his arm. The sensation brought him to his senses like a splash of cold water. You absolute bellend. He thought. She's vulnerable, how could you take advantage of her like that? He pulled away quickly and his heart dropped when he saw the stunned expression on Keira's face. "I'm so sorry, Keira. I don't know what came over me." Yes you do, you smarmy bastard. Before she could come to her senses and curse him out he was out the door and down the stairs.
○○○
Charlie scratched his beard with bleary eyes at his last memory of Keira. It had been nearly a year and a half since he kissed her and not once had they spoken or seen each other. Charlie had written to her numerous times, but the letters were tucked away in a small locked box in his trunk.
As he rose to dress for the day he heard the familiar swooping of owl wings that signified the arrival of mail, most likely from his mum. He looked over to his desk to see an unfamiliar black owl with thin white horizontal stripes along each feather and striking orange talons and beak. It cooed deeply at him and cocked its head to the side. Attached to its leg was a weather beaten envelope.
The owl stood patiently on one leg as Charlie detached the envelope and offered it some pellets and water from a container. The envelope was buckled slightly at the corners signifying that it had traveled far. He looked at the neatly written address on the envelope.
Charlie Weasley
Romanian Dragon Sanctuary
Romania
It was a script he knew well, but had not seen in quite some time. With shaky hands he tore the envelope and retrieved the parchment from within. The first thing he noticed was a picture folded within the parchment that brought a smile to his lips for the first time in a while. The moving image showed a black, glimmering egg that immediately intrigued him. But more importantly, standing behind the egg with a wide smile was Keira. She ran her slender fingers along the eggs glassy shell and up the spines. He knew that he should be looking at the egg, but his eyes kept wandering to the girl with the long brown hair and bright blue eyes.
She started as the owl hooted at him and he cleared his throat. "I was just admiring the egg." He said unconvincingly to himself as much as the owl who stared unblinking at him. Charlie chuckled to himself. Was he paranoid or was the owl keeping him in check?
He laid the photograph on his desk as he turned his attention to the letter. Keira had dismissed the pleasantries as she usually did. He appreciated that she hadn't brought up how long it had been since they saw each other or how awkward their last meeting had been. Once he had read through the letter his mood had improved greatly. She wanted him. Well, his expertise at least.
He picked up the picture once more to really examine the egg this time. She was right, the spines definitely resembled the egg of the Chinese Fireball. There was a chance that this egg could be an unknown species of dragon. The prospect filled him with excitement, amplified greatly by Keira's proximity to said egg. Without another thought, he dressed, slung his bag around his shoulder and headed to his boss' office.
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Logic It Out- Charlie Weasley x OC
Charlie Weasley x Adora Parrish
Description: Charlie and Adora are at Hogwarts for the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and they’re quick to notice that Ron seems to be on the outs with Harry.
Word Count: 2.3k
“Alright, jus’ put ‘em over there,” Hagrid instructed the group of dragon handlers wheeling over four cages that had a different dragon in each one. Among those handlers were Charlie and Adora, who were helping handle the Swedish Short-Snout. They were quick to duck as the dragon grew angry yet again about their situation and attempted to fry anyone in the vicinity.
“Alright everyone,” the head dragon handler, Stu, spoke up. “Grave your wands and on the count of three, you as a group put your respective dragon to sleep. Understand?” After getting a response from everyone, Stu pulled out his wand and counted to three. While he counted the others took the chance to pull out their wands and once Stu got to three they put the dragons under a Sleeping Charm.
“Great job guys,” Stu praised. “I’m going to go talk to Dumbledore about sleeping arrangements, stay here until I return with instructions.” The others nodded in understanding and watched him jog to the castle in front of them. Adora wiped the sweat off her brow as she watched Hagrid engage in conversation with another handler named Mary between marveling at the Chinese Fireball dragon she stood beside.
“Well, I think that was a job well done,” Charlie said coolly, pocketing his wand once more. Adora, meanwhile, used hers to tie her hair up and smiled breathlessly at her fiancé.
“Yeah, aside from how long it took to get to Hogwarts,” she responded. “I thought we’d never get here with the dragons continually moving.” Charlie nodded and loosely wrapped an arm around her so neither of them got too hot. After talking amongst themselves for a small while, the group of handlers faced Stu once he returned. The man explained that they were to split up and stay in each house for the night and then they’d return home after the First Task the next day.
“What happens if someone sees the dragons?” Adora questioned. “Wouldn’t that be cheating?” Stu gave her a patient smile.
“We can’t control what happens if someone sees them, but we can do our best to prevent people from seeing them. Two people will stay with them at all times, everyone has to take a shift.” The group nodded and Charlie raised his hand.
“Dora and I can take the first shift,” he offered, Adora agreeing with him afterwards. If they went ahead and got it done now they would be able to relax the rest of the night.
“Great,” Stu said cheerily, probably happy that he didn’t have to take the first shift after such a long and painstaking trip from Romania. They quickly worked out the details of where they’d be sleeping (with Gryffindor) and such.
“Thanks Charlie. You guys have the first two hours, and it’ll continue like that. Everyone else, come to me with a partner and a shift choice and I’ll write it down.” With that, the group began walking away with Stu at the front, leaving behind Charlie, Adora and Hagrid, who was still marveling at the slumbering dragons.
“Hagrid, don’t you have a class you need to get to soon?” Charlie questioned, taking a quick glance at his watch. The half giant’s eyes widened in realization and he quickly thanked the boy before rushing off.
“So now what?” Adora questioned, summoning a chair to sit in.
“We get through the next two hours as fast as possible,” Charlie answered, following her lead. The girl could help but smile and nod before leaning back in her chair.
The first hour went well, none of the dragons woke up but Charlie looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep. Adora had to get creative to make sure he didn’t fall asleep several times. It didn’t help that she was also exhausted, but she managed. She had been messing around with her wand when her ears suddenly perked up after hearing a rustle in the bushes and trees beside them. She instantly stood along with Charlie, who also seemed to have heard it. They glanced at each other for only a second before slowly creeping towards the source of the noise. Charlie moved in front of her just in case then used his wand to move the bushes out of the way.
“Ron?” He questioned, obviously surprised. Adora’s head poked out from behind him and sure enough, there was Ron crouching by said bushes.
“Charlie, Adora!” He exclaimed with a small smile, jumping up. He enveloped the two in a hug, which made the latter giggle.
“What’re you doing here?” Adora questioned once they let go. Ron’s cheeks flushed and he shrugged a shoulder.
“It’s lunchtime, I was just walking around then I heard a loud snort so I came to check it out. Then I found those dragons,” he explained awkwardly. Adora sighed internally, she knew that the Chinese Fireball’s snoring would catch someone’s attention.
“What are you guys doing here? Are those dragons for the first task?” He questioned eagerly. Charlie looked at Adora, almost as if asking permission. The girl hesitated then nodded, she could never deny Charlie.
“Yeah, they’re for the tournament,” the older Weasley explained excitedly. “Each contestant is supposed to pick a dragon that they have to get past in order to get the golden egg in their nests.”
“Wicked!” Ron exclaimed shortly before Adora shushed him, not wanting to draw anyone else’s attention. The boy quieted down obediently but kept his ecstatic smile.
“Oh I can’t wait to see that,” he continued, quieter this time. Charlie smiled.
“Yeah, it’ll be cool to watch,” he added. “But you have to keep this to yourself, understand? The entire point of us being so far from the castle is so no one can see the dragons before the task. You can’t tell anyone, not even Harry.”
“Wait a second,” Adora suddenly realized. “Where is Harry? You guys spend, like, all day together. Is he around here?” She and Charlie looked around while Ron’s smile faded into a frown and his head lowered.
“I’m not talking to him,” he answered, sounding much angrier now. “He’s a sneaky liar and I don’t even want to see him right now.” The bell rang, signalling that lunch was over.
“I’ll see you guys later,” he muttered before walking off, leaving no room for questions. Charlie and Adora looked at each other, though this time they were worried instead of confused. They had to get to the bottom of this.
Adora was the first to find Ron. It was after dinner but before curfew, so there were still a few students out and about. She found him in the quad, looking lost in thought. He hadn’t realized she was by him until she took a seat beside him. He jumped and looked at her, surprised.
“Merlin Adora, a warning would have been nice,” he half joked, resting a hand over his heart. She giggled and shot him a sympathetic smile.
“Sorry, I just wanted to talk to you,” she responded simply, elaborating when he stared at her confused. “About earlier. There seems to be some bad blood between you and Harry, that is unless calling your best friend a ‘sneaky liar’ is a new fad that I haven’t heard of.” Ron’s cheeks burned red and he looked down.
“No, it’s not a fad,” he grumbled.
“So tell me what’s going on,” she said, shifting so she was sitting criss-cross. “What happened between the World Cup and us arriving at Hogwarts?” The boy stared at her for a minute, contemplating his choices, before sighing.
“Harry put his name in the Goblet of Fire, that’s why he’s participating. It was originally supposed to be Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory. I don’t know how he managed to do it, but he put his name in and he was called to also do the tournament. What’s worse is he’s pretending that he hadn’t put his name in,” he scoffed and shook his head. “As if he needs more fame to his name.” Adora listened intently as he talked, then hummed when he finished.
“And you say that he’s pretending that he didn’t enter his name?” Ron nodded. “Have you considered that he wasn’t pretending, Ron?” He began to nod, but realized what she asked and looked at her once again.
“Wait, what?” Adora shrugged and rested her hands on her knees.
“I mean, if he says that he didn’t put his name in, why wouldn’t you believe him? From what I understand, Professor Dumbledore drew an age line around the goblet so there was no way he could do it.”
“But he could have gotten someone else to do it,” Ron pointed out defensively.
“Maybe,” she continued patiently. “Or maybe his name was entered without his knowledge because someone wants to mess with him. Think about it Ronnie, you know how Harry is about attention. I remember you telling me that Harry loathed being in public last year because of the Sirius Black escape chaos. Not only that, but the Dark Mark has returned, even if he didn’t say anything, he was terrified about it. Wouldn’t it make sense for him to lay low and not try to get into anything spectacular? He already hates being known only as The Boy Who Lived, he wouldn’t want to add ‘Triwizard Tournament Champion’ to his title.”
“He’s always in the public’s eye, what does he care?” The boy grumbled. That seemed to connect something in Adora’s mind because she leaned closer to him.
“You’re jealous of Harry’s fame,” She muttered softly, making him whip up to look at her. “Ron, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she continued, giving him no chance to argue. “All your life you’ve been in the shadow of your brothers, and then you become friends with the famous Harry Potter. That can’t be good for your self esteem, yet you’ve continued to stay. Do you know why?” Ron shook his head. “Because you’re a good friend. Jealousy is natural, but it shouldn’t cloud your judgement. You know what kind of person Harry is, you know that the last thing he would want was to be in this tournament. The best thing you can do for him and yourself is to be there for him and help him through this.” Ron stayed silent as he considered her words. After a few minutes he finally sighed.
“Maybe,” was all he said. Adora smiled kindly and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Talking to him is the best way to start,” she mentioned. Ron looked at her again and smiled a little.
“Thanks Dora,” he muttered before hugging her. She returned the hug for a short while before pulling away and ruffling his hair.
“Go get to bed, you can try tomorrow.” Ron nodded and bid her goodnight before standing and jogging off. She watched him for a moment before looking up at the stars. She only looked away when she heard someone approach her.
“Very inspiring, Dora,” Charlie teased as he took a seat beside her. “I was in tears.” The girl giggled and shook her head.
“I’m just glad we were able to sort it out.” Her head rested on his shoulder while his arm wrapped around her.
“Yeah, you’ve always been a good median,” he chuckled. “That’s why I always call you during arguments.” Adora smiled and shook her head but said nothing.
“We should probably get inside before curfew hits,” she mumbled, standing up lazily. Charlie wasn’t far behind her and they walked hand in hand back to the Gryffindor Tower.
The next day was hectic to say the least. It was the day of the first task and the handlers were required to constantly stand by in case something happened. Cedric Diggory did quite well aside from his face getting a bit singed by the Swedish Short-Snout. Fleur Delacour was up next tackling the Common Welsh Green, she managed to enchant it to sleep (much to Adora’s surprise) and only the end of her skirt was caught on fire after the dragon snorted out a flame. Next up was Viktor Krum, he had the Chinese Fireball. It went well until the dragon, under his Conjunctivitis Curse (blinding curse), stumbled around and broke a few eggs (Charlie had to turn Adora away so she didn’t witness it). Finally, Harry emerged, tackling the Hungarian Horntail. He used a Summoning Charm to bring his broom to him and distracted the dragon long enough to grab the golden egg (though, not without hurting his arm from the Horntail’s spiked tail).
Once Harry was in the medical tent, all the handlers put the last dragon under a sleeping charm then put it back in its cage. As she sat down beside said cage, Charlie tapped her shoulder. When she looked at him, he only pointed to the medical tent. Her eyes followed his finger and saw Harry walking out with Hermione and Ron practically hanging off of him. A bright smile appeared on her face. He had talked to Harry and sorted everything out, just like Adora knew they would. She caught Ron’s eye and his head turned to face her. They didn’t say anything, instead Ron just offered her a grateful smile. She returned it then took Charlie’s hand.
“I’m glad they worked things out,” she said simply. Charlie nodded.
“Yeah, Merlin knows how whiney he would have been if he didn’t,” he joked, making her lightly smack his arm.
“Be nice Char,” she scolded, but the smile on her face told him that she wasn’t serious. “Sometimes you just need that push to logic it out.” Charlie pursed his lips and nodded.
“Wise words, Mrs. Weasley.” Adora blushed and rolled her eyes.
“I’m not Mrs. Weasley yet,” she pointed out, only for Charlie to lean down and kiss the top of her head.
“Well the day can’t come soon enough. I’ll just keep calling you it until it’s true.” She couldn’t help but grin at his words, she definitely liked the sound of that.
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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (4/??)
CHAPTER DIRECTORY
TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)
CHAPTER 4: A week before the highly-anticipated dinner, you discover something terrible. You are a hard, fact-based person; Charlie is your contrarian spur-of-the-moment partner. And he’s not shy to show you. (5.4k words)
CHAPTER 4: BOYS IN THE BLUE
The warm autumn day took a nosedive the moment you headed home. There was a light spray of rain in the gardens, and you had to march over soggy leaves to get to the front door. When you were back inside, it was even colder in the lifeless, expanse corridors and you involuntarily shuddered. It was chilly to the point that you assumed there must be Dementors floating about… oh, right, your brother and father were home.
As you ambled down the hall, you mapped out all the ways to victory. It was a play well-rehearsed and acted.
The Plan
Step 1: Start argument with Lucius.
Step 2: Press the issue, inciting anger in him.
Step 3: Build up the anger by making valid points.
Step 4: Watch his composure rupture.
This is considered a victory. Just wait for his silent withdrawal because he’ll be too embarrassed to admit he’s lost.
Optional Steps
Step 3.a. Utilise reverse psychology (e.g. “Uncle Theo is a classic example of money not buying class. I’m so glad we don’t engage in such gauche practices.”)
Step 3.b. Create fantastical scenarios to help your father see the light.
Step 3.c. Rally Narcissa on your side. Lucius never argues with Narcissa.
As you passed your father’s study, you saw Lucius at his desk writing something on a long roll of parchment. He’d since changed from those ridiculously fancy dress robes to just a plain button-up shirt and let his hair down. The fireplace cackled menacingly beside him, orange flames puffing just like how he’d be within the next five minutes.
You popped your head in. “I hope your business meeting went well,” you started.
“Fortunately, it did, despite the crisis that I averted,” Lucius answered without so much as a glance up at you.
“What crisis?” you asked sweetly.
Lucius narrowed his eyes, still writing. “You know very well what I’m talking about.”
“You should recount the story for mother and Draco tonight,” you offered.
“There’s no need for it.”
“Right,” you affirmed. Again, you didn’t want this dinner to have to happen. This conversation was a means to call it off. “I reckon it was hard to take in. You should take your time and meet Charlie when you’re in a better temperament.”
“That’s not correct,” Lucius stated with a tsk. “I am always in a pleasant temperament.” He finally laid his quill down and looked at you. “And your mother and brother will be delighted to meet your… partner at dinner in a fortnight as planned.”
“So, all your talk about reputation and standards was for naught?” you pressed. The next plan of attack was a subset of step three: reverse psychology. “What happens when our neighbours see a Weasley at the door? Being invited in by a Malfoy? You’ll be the talk of the town.”
Lucius smiled menacingly. “I reckon I’ve been unfair,” he admitted slyly. “I should get to know the Weasley boy. Maybe he won’t be a disgrace like his parents.”
You grimaced internally. You should’ve known that Lucius was not going to make this easy.
“You’ve really had a change of heart, father,” you stated. “It’s not in our usual fashion, but maybe we should start associating with blood traitors more.
“Nonsense”—he waved a hand—“I consider it charity work.”
“That’s complete rubbish, Charlie is not—”
Lucius raised a hand to stop you. “I have never implied that, but if that’s what you think of your boyfriend, then so be it.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. If this was how he wanted to play it, then you were going to start writing to all his colleagues and business partners about your relationship and plaster your photos on every billboard. You were going to send an owl to everyone in the Ministry, including the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Hold on, speaking of Shacklebolt…
“Then, you wouldn’t mind if we attended the Ministry Christmas party together this year, won’t you? We could be sat at the table with you and mother, and Draco. I reckon I should let you know now since the Minister’s office needs a guest list by the end of October.”
A moment of silence. Then, both the corner of your and Lucius’s mouth twitched at the same time but in different contexts. You, with happiness and him, with chagrin.
“Well, that’s still some ways off,” he responded. “But I’m sure our Minister would be delighted to have the less fortunate seated so far up.”
“Then spare a seat for Charlie.”
“Of course,” Lucius said. “Consider it done. But let’s have dinner together first, shall we?”
“And remind me, (Y/N),” Lucius continued with a growing grin. “Charlie is the son with the dragons, correct?”
“Why do you care?”
“His father always tries to tell me about his children when I pass him by at the Ministry. Truthfully, I’m barely listening but I have caught onto this particular detail.”
The look in his eyes made you uneasy. Truthfully, you wished you didn’t have to answer him. There were consequences to telling the truth or lying. Looks like nothing had changed since you were younger.
“He is.”
With that, you walked away.
The rest of the afternoon, you resided in the sunroom, watching the rain slam on the overhead glass. A cloud of perturbation hung over your head like the weather. Unsure of how to communicate your failure with Charlie, you chose to sit and ruminate. But after half an hour, you grabbed a quill, a piece of parchment, and a seal and began writing.
Charlie,
I couldn’t do it. You’ll have to clear your schedule for next next Saturday.
(Y/N) Malfoy
About half an hour later, your owl fluttered back to your window.
(Y/N),
Not saying I didn’t tell you so, but… I told you so.
I won’t be here all week, but I’m back on Friday from Hogwarts. How about meeting me at the platform at eight p.m.?
Charlie
P.S. This is Romanian parchment. Go on, try to burn it. Spoiler: it doesn’t.
Curious, you trotted over to the fireplace. You crumbled the parchment and threw it into the flames. You waited for the crinkling sounds, for the edges to crisp and blacken, and the ball to burst in flames, but to your amusement, the paper was as pristine as ever. It lay unaffected in the blue flames.
With a smile, you wrote back:
Charlie,
That works for me. Have a good week.
(Y/N) Malfoy
You held off communication with Charlie for the rest of the week, opting to fiddle with your quill at your cubicle at the Ministry. When no one was looking, you scribbled down details of what you’d say to your father—lines you’d feed to Charlie to regurgitate until they felt real. For some reason, Fred and George were eager to escort you to the station to meet Charlie on Friday. You chalked it up to them missing their brother. Fred invited you to wait for them after work so you could go together.
When the fated Friday arrived, you rushed out of your office to Weasley Wizard Wheezes. You sat in the homey flat upstairs while waiting for Fred and George to close shop. You spread out on the couch, legs on the armrest, reading the stories you’d weaved at your desk.
You rehearsed in a low voice. “Charlie and I met at Christmas last year when he came back for a week. He invited me for coffee and the rest was history. December 27th, wasn’t it, darling? We had an instant connection and maintained our relationship through letters and chats through floo.”
You scribbled a line in and continued. “I was chuffed when he decided to take an extended vacation this year.”
Then you shut your eyes and pretended Lucius was asking you a question about your future.
“Well, we haven’t decided where we’ll settle, but at the moment, Romania is looking like the better option for both of us.”
“Is it?” Fred interjected. “Really?”
You scrambled up, feet hitting the ground. “You’re done already?”
“Not a particularly busy week,” he said, sitting down next to you and peering over. “Let me have a read to review the accuracy of this love story.”
You pushed him away. “No.”
“It sounds kind of stiff and unrealistic if I’m being honest,” George added. “Is this a dinner or a job interview? And Charlie sounds more romantic than I’d ever know him.”
“I was just rehearsing,” you grumbled in defence. “It’s not meant to sound polished.”
Fred and George walking in on you penning a romance between you and their older brother was going to be something they’d never let you live down. You continued walking on and grabbed your topcoat that was hanging from the rack. You slipped it over your black sweater dress and announced: “Let’s get going.”
All mentions of your script were thankfully forgotten when the three of you landed in the chilly autumn air that engulfed King’s Cross Station. You strode the last hundred metres, quickly falling in sync with the twins. A tale as old as time, Fred situated himself to your left and George to your right.
“I assumed Charlie was only to be at Hogwarts for two or three days a week from the way he was speaking,” you said. “But it seems he left Monday, is that right?”
“He mentioned some ‘contractual matters’ to clear with McGonagall. You know, given that he decided to take the job on such short notice. But McGonagall has been waiting for her favourite student to come back since he graduated, so she was more than fine with it,” George explained before a grin broke out on his face. “It’s interesting you seem to have such complex insights into Charlie’s life.”
“Complex insights?” you repeated. “He told me.”
“When? On your date or when you were having lunch with his mum?”
“Your mum, too, Georgie,” you reminded him.
“Not the way she was making it seem.”
To your left, Fred made a discontented noise. “I wish he hadn’t come back,” he grumbled.
“Why’s that?”
“Because while mum adores Bill, her fixation with Charlie is on another level,” Fred groaned. “And now that McGonagall gets to see him again, it’ll be even worse for his ego. That’s all she ever talked about, huh, Georgie? ‘That was a very strategic play, Fred, but your brother Charlie did it better.’ And then she’d launch into a story of the time Charlie enacted a critical play to win the game.”
“Which game?” George queried, stroking his chin. “I can only remember ten examples.”
“You sound jealous,” you teased, giving Fred a nudge.
“You’re right,” Fred conceded. He shot you a quick wink. “I guess I’m jealous he gets to date you.”
Your sudden laugh vaporised in the cold air. “You flatter me, Fred Weasley. But we’re not dating, remember?”
Fred must’ve noticed the puff of air that left your lips, because he then suggested: “Let’s have a night out before the weather goes to total shit.”
“It is already total shit,” you reminded him as a snappy breeze blew past you. You held a gloved hand to his face. “The nice weather will be gone like your deepest freckles.”
Fred clicked his tongue. “(Y/N) Malfoy, eternally the”—he paused at looked at you—“shivering pessimist.”
He wasn’t wrong. You breathed a sigh of relief when you stepped into the warmth of King Cross’s station. You strode past the last wave of stragglers trying to catch the next train home. You looked around the concourse, ensuring there were no muggle eyes on you, before the three of you smoothly gilded into the wall and onto Platform 9 ¾.
“Nice to be here with nowhere to go, huh?” George asked when you reappeared.
You nodded. It wasn’t early September and there weren’t bustling crowds and extraneous noise—of frantic parents, crying children, and conductors. Now, there were barely five people on the platform: an old man reading a newspaper; a mother and her son; and two wizards in dress robes.
A light wind began to pick up around the platform. You looked down at your watch. It was eight o’clock on the dot. The Hogwarts Express de-accelerated, screeching slightly against the metal tracks, before stopping in front of you. The windows were noticeably emptier and there couldn’t be more than a dozen people on this train. As people deboarded, you peeked around, looking for a mop of ginger curls.
As soon as you saw Charlie at the top step in the first compartment, you nudged George to go over. Charlie hadn’t seen you yet. He was raising a hand to the conductor. “Thanks, Stan.”
Stan tipped his hat. “See you next week, Charlie.”
Then, Charlie stepped off the train carrying a leather briefcase. He was dressed like how you first saw him, in the same slacks and jean jacket. His hair was mussed from the trip, but the dishevelled locks suited him. His blue eyes were cloudy with sleep, as they would be after a long journey.
“Hey Charlie,” George greeted.
Fred patted your shoulder and said: “Got your girlfriend here in one piece.”
Charlie’s face lit up. “Thank you, Fred.”
You shook your head in annoyance at Fred. Truth be told, you didn’t like Fred’s casual use of the word ‘girlfriend.’ Hopefully, after next week, you’d never need to ask for Charlie’s services again.
Fred ushered George back to the wall. “We’ll be heading back now.”
George cocked his head. “Yeah, don’t be too long.”
When the twins had disappeared through the wall, so did their laughs.
You turned to Charlie. “There’s a coffee shop in the station we could sit at,” you offered. “You must be famished after your trip.”
“I’m tired,” Charlie said with a yawn. He stretched his arms behind his head and flawlessly, one of those arms swung over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. The scent of pine trees and cinder enveloped you immediately. He cocked his head downwards towards yours, eyes lighting in amusement. “Let’s chat at the pub instead.”
“The pub?” you repeated, blinking up at him. Unconsciously, you fell in step with Charlie, striding with his arm locked around you down the platform. “Didn’t you just say you were tired?”
“A beer will wake me up.”
“That is physiologically counterintuitive,” you stated.
“I wasn’t built like a normal person.”
As the firm curve of his bicep grazed your face, you were inclined to agree.
When you stepped outside of the station, the night had grown even darker. Stars peeked out from the blanket of black from up above. Charlie finally unlatched himself from you as you approached a tram stop. To be honest, you were annoyed that your shield of warmth was taken from you and that Charlie had left you to fend against the wind by yourself.
“Where to, Miss Malfoy?” Charlie asked as you sat down on the moving tram.
You leaned back on the plush seat. “Might go to the White Wyvern for a classy night,” you jested.
“Great, I’ve been looking forward to splintering my fingers at the table,” Charlie hummed in agreement. “Or I’ll my hand stuck from the beer residue until Mace, the owner, has to saw it off. Might lose a kidney, who knows, but it’d be worth it.”
“Have you been?” you asked. “It sounds like you have.”
Charlie chuckled. “That I can’t say. You can inquire about anything else though.” He swerved the conversation around. “Where does your dad go on a Friday night?”
“Valour.”
Valour was an upscale bar where Lucius fancied having dinner with his business companions. You’d been just a handful of times, but it wasn’t your cup of tea. There was no one your age there.
Charlie let out a low whistle. “I’d have to sell my kidney for a night there. Let’s settle for something in the middle.”
“Alright then,” you said. “Let’s go to The Brew.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“It opened last summer. You were probably in Romania.”
“Sounds reasonable. Lead the way.”
The Brew was only a block away from where the tram stopped. You guided Charlie up the cobbled road on Warwick Avenue, dangerously close to where you were last week when you were caught by Molly. You knew you’d arrived when you saw the exterior of the building: sleek and trendy with neon cursive lettering shining against the black brick. Inside, the crystal wine glasses perched on top of the bar shimmered in the dim light. The velvet chairs—maroon and pine—contrasted well against the glossy walls.
After the host took your coats, you looked for an open spot.
“Let’s sit at the bar,” Charlie suggested.
“Alright.”
You also appreciated Charlie’s confidence to find footing wherever he was. You thought yourself well-adjusted in that regard; you were good at settling with your family’s uppity friends. But Charlie was on a different level.
He weaved through the crowds gracefully with two hands in his pockets. When he found two unoccupied barstools, he pulled one out for you.
“After you.”
“Thank you.” You smoothed your dress and sat down. You swivelled around to place an order, but the bartender in front of you seemed occupied with something else.
“No way,” she exclaimed, her hands halfway through drying a glass with a towel. “Charlie Weasley?”
“The one and only,” he responded. “And you are…” He squinted his eyes, appraising the tall bartender. She was dressed fully in black which you assumed was the unofficial uniform of the pub. Her curly hair rivalled the colour of her blouse. She had eyes as green as the lime garnishes at her workstation. Her ears were adorned by multiple piercings, and a small collection of tattoos dotted her toned arms. “Mallory.”
Her red lips curled into a smile. “You still remember me?”
“I couldn’t ever forget,” Charlie said. “Though it’s been almost, what, twelve years?”
Mallory nodded.
“Mallory and I were teammates on the Gryffindor Quidditch team,” Charlie explained, facing you. “Mallory, this is (Y/N).”
You quickly extended a hand. “(Y/N) Malfoy. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh—,” Mallory quickly corrected herself and shook your hand. “Mallory Mikaelson.”
You smiled politely and withdrew. What a reputation your last name had around town. If only it was for the better, you thought.
Mallory’s eyes narrowed in concentration as she leaned over the counter to take a closer look at you. “I can’t seem to place you, love,” she said. “I suppose you were in a different house, or a different year?”
You didn’t want to admit you were six years younger than Charlie because of the way it might reflect on him, so you were vague with your answer: “Both.”
She hummed, then redirected the conversation back to Charlie. “Do you remember Marcus, my brother?”
“Of course,” Charlie said. “The best beater I’ve had the pleasure of playing with, besides you. Where is he now?”
“Department of International Transportation at the Ministry,” Mallory said. “We still play Quidditch at weekends at Felder's Field just north of here. We’d love to have our old teammate back for a game.”
“Name the date and time, I’ll be there,” Charlie affirmed.
“Hey Mal,” another bartender called from the back. “Abby called in for her shift at the front. Boss is asking you to cover for her tonight.”
“I’ll be right over,” Mallory said, her tone cool and professional. Then with a warm smile, she capped off her conversation with Charlie. “See you then, Charlie. Send me an owl.”
Charlie waved back. “See you.”
“What can I get for you two?” Mallory’s colleague asked after she’d gone out to the front.
“A pint of stout,” Charlie said.
You were still preoccupied with the conversation that just occurred so the question didn’t even register in your brain. Who was Mallory? What kind of past did she have with Charlie?
“What about you, love?” the bartender pressed.
“(Y/N)?” Charlie leaned in, giving your arm a squeeze. “If you don’t answer, I’ll get you a stout, too.”
You quickly regained consciousness. “An aperol spritz, please. Thank you.”
“Is the idea of a stout really that terrible?” Charlie joked.
“Yes,” you gasped out. “Awful.”
In a matter of minutes, your drinks arrived and you were finally left alone.
“It’s always nice to see a familiar face, isn’t it?” Charlie remarked.
“Absolutely,” you agreed with a nod. You vowed to forego your curiosity; there were more pressing matters. “Speaking of familiar things, how was your first week at Hogwarts?”
“Really great. I’m just settling in and getting accustomed to my classroom and Hagrid’s curriculum.”
“Does he know the meaning of a curriculum? I’ve heard his classes weren’t very…. Well-structured.”
“Not at all,” Charlie affirmed. “It’s whatever he feels like teaching that day. I might have to work with him a little.”
You grinned. “I can imagine.”
Charlie nodded his head. “You’re imagining right.” After a sip of beer, he resumed his thoughts. “But we’re not here to talk about Hagrid. We’re here to talk about next week.”
“Right! So, I prepared something,” you said, reaching into your purse for the rolled parchment. You hooked it with your finger and fished it out. “I was hoping to go over some notes with you—”
“(Y/N),” Charlie interrupted. His hand, leading with his thumb, was making a backward motion. “I need you to start from the beginning. Unlike my brothers, I know zilch about you.”
You set the parchment back in your purse and tucked it away. “Well, what do you know about me?”
“I know that everyone is terrified of your father, your brother is a right tosser, and your mother is gorgeous.”
Without thinking, you slapped Charlie on the arm, causing him to sputter in his drink. “Don’t talk about my mother like that.”
“If you’d let me finish my sentence,” Charlie protested after recovering. “I would’ve said, ‘that’s obviously who you got your looks from.’’”
Now, it was your turn to nearly sputter into your drink.
Charlie wagged a finger. “Careful, don’t spill that on yourself again.”
“I don’t reckon that was remotely my fault. You sat on me.”
Charlie was unfazed by your accusation and grinned instead. “Tell me more about your family.”
Quizzically, you continued, though you were unsure of how keen Charlie was on climbing your family tree. “My mother has two sisters, my aunts Bellatrix and Andromeda. I don’t have much to say there. My father has a brother and a sister. My uncle, Theodore Malfoy, and my aunt, Rosamund Malfoy. Thankfully for all of us, Uncle Theodore lives in France.”
Charlie furrowed his eyebrows. “Why thankfully?”
You paused. You never had anyone show so much concentrated interest in your family. Even Fred and George didn’t care much past the surface, past taunts against Lucius or Draco. You explained to Charlie what happened in France this summer, how he’d made a grand show of displaying his new properties and putting your family down.
“He’s perhaps the most terrible person I’ve met,” you huffed. “He’s worse than my father. You can’t talk about anything good without him doing you one better. And his spawn follows his mannerisms exactly.”
“Who are the spawn?”
“Genevieve. She’s my oldest cousin. She just got married this summer in Nice. She’s the worst. It was a cursed occasion because my mother came home with some nuptial fever. Her brother Claude is similarly terrible but he just talks less and conceals it better.” You gauged Charlie’s facial expression and could tell he was still engrossed. “I have two younger cousins, Charlotte and Clara. They’re pleasant, though I can’t tell the difference between them on a good day. They look very much alike despite being two years apart.”
“That leaves you,” Charlie remarked with a wide grin. “My favourite Malfoy.”
You laughed. “I’m the only Malfoy you know.”
“I’ve heard of your brother,” Charlie said. “From what I’ve gathered, I prefer you.”
“I haven’t scared you off?”
“Not yet.”
His face read ‘try me’ to which you smiled at.
Then, silence fell upon you. It was to be expected, a natural stall in the conversation. You took a prolonged sip of your cocktail to ease the awkwardness. As the bitters melted on your tongue, you searched for other things to talk about, but Charlie beat you to it.
“(Y/N),” Charlie’s deep voice called out to you.
You put your drink down on the table. “Yes?”
“I have a question for you.”
“Alright.”
Charlie shifted his stool over to yours. He was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from his body. This time, instead of remaining where he was, he latched a hand on your kneecap. Every callus embedded on his fingers were noticeable on the groove of your knee, despite a layer of sheer tights separating his skin and yours. His grip didn’t hurt, but he was firm.
“What are you doing?” you panicked. Your tone came out more accusatory than you’d liked.
“Practising?” Charlie said quizzically. “Will it even be the least bit convincing if my touch repulses you?”
“I’m not repulsed!” you retorted. “It was just unexpected.”
Unexpected, as in you hadn't had a man touch you in months, maybe two years if you wanted the statement to be accurate. And at some point, you had stopped counting because the thought made you all the more miserable.
“That’s why I have a question,” he explained. “How much am I allowed to touch you at this… dinner?”
Your brain short-circuited for a minute. It was very hard to form any thoughts with Charlie’s sharp blue eyes tangled with yours, waiting for an answer like his life depended on it. The lopsided curve of his lip tempted a sacrilegious answer, one that you had too much modesty top provide. And now, things were harder with his large hand engulfing your kneecap. You were a deer in the headlights; he was the coyote catching his prey.
“This is fine.” This would convince your parents. Merlin, even you were convinced.
“Alright.”
You looked down. Your skin burned beneath his touch, and you had to wonder why you felt this way, why you were suddenly so flushed and withdrawn. Surely, if Fred pulled this act, you’d touch—or rather, slap—him back in retaliation.
Charlie’s thumb began to rub circles above your knee as he asked: “What about this?”
You stifled a sound. You were ticklish but you also couldn’t deny that that wasn’t the only sensation you were feeling. You couldn’t pinpoint it but you knew his touch wasn't at all unwanted.
“Don’t you think that’s too much?” you murmured. “All we need is a solid story, and I reckon we should be able to get away with it.”
“Nothing is too much if the goal is to convince your parents you like me, emotionally and physically,” Charlie commented with a laugh. “That’s the equation of love. Got it?”
You nodded slowly. Sure, you understood arithmetic, but this was a devilishly dangerous line he was toeing around.
He scooted even closer to you, his barstool squeaking against the floor, to be able to lift his hand from your knee to find your waist instead. His palm found its way to the dead centre, gravitating towards the most delicate part of you.
“Still okay?” he asked with an upward tilt of his head. You were entranced by how sharp his jaw cut under at this angle.
You nodded slowly, lips parting slightly as a result. He was so close that you could smell the alcohol on his lips. You hoped the dim lighting obfuscated your reddening face.
“Good job,” he praised with a smirk. “You’re doing great, (Y/N).”
Your head spun as if the prosecco in the aperol spritz had concentrated and exploded in your bloodstream all at once. Charlie’s voice started sounding further and further away, even though you were intently watching him inch closer. The room behind him blurred like a camera finding a focus on its subject. Charlie was your subject, his every freckle and crease near his gleaming eyes clear as day.
“Do you do this… often?”
You could barely hear your own voice.
“Sh, I’m the one asking questions. Keep focussed on the conversation we’re having.”
Focus? You wanted to ask Charlie if a dragon had clawed off his frontal lobe, leaving him helpless to his impulses. A prime example: this scene he was making.
“Now,” he continued, squeezing your waist. “What is your limit?”
“My—” you stammered, unable to gauge the meaning of his two-toned words. “My limit? As in alcohol?”
A barking laugh shattered your daze and brought you back to the present. Charlie’s voice was now glassy clear and his tone melodic. “(Y/N), let’s reroute back to the question of how much I can touch you.”
“Erm, this is okay,” you eked out through shallow breaths. Had Charlie shrunk your lungs? Was there such a spell? “I don’t imagine anyone would want to see any more.”
His eyes darkened. Your heart stopped. “What if I kissed you?” he asked.
Well, your heart was certifiably alive again because it had just catapulted against your chest, almost throwing you forward.
‘Now? Or next week?’ You wanted to scream. At this point, it was hard to tell and if he didn’t stop talking, you were really going to die. Might as well have the bartenders dig a hole in the ground right here and bury you with a tombstone carved with the words ‘Cause of Death: Charlie Weasley.’
“Let’s hope the situation’s not dire enough to have to come to that,” you said. On the contrary, your eyes were drinking in those smirky lips like they were the finest and richest wine in the world and wondering if rehearsals should be in order.
“But if it did?”
You pursed your lips which Charlie noticed, his eyes falling downwards, long lashes casting shadows over his face. You had to approach this logically and weigh the benefits and risks. If you had to kiss Charlie for a millisecond, it could mean a lifetime of your parents off your back. And a seriously tumultuous friendship with Fred and George if they found out.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“It would be fine,” you whispered with minimal conviction. “But only as a last resort.”
A rush of blood pounded your head when he was a mere three inches from your face. You gulped when you saw yourself reflected in his eyes. One wrong move and your nose would brush up against his freckled one.
“Of course,” he stated, looking offended. “You’d think I’d just waltz in next weekend and we’d start snogging in the foyer? You must think better of me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that—’
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Charlie teased, scooting back and letting his legs stretch out. Your eyes were glued to his hands and arms that were crossed in front of his chest. A cocky grin graced his chiselled face. “But this is great. I’ve got enough for next week.”
“Shouldn’t we discuss more about what we’re going to do?” you protested. Your voice was desperate and frantic. “We have to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“No, I really do have all that I need.”
“I wrote some things down, some critical points we should hit,” you pleaded, trying to find the parchment in your purse. When you unfurled it, Charlie was quick to snatch it out of your hands. He crushed it between his palms. When he opened his hand up again, the parchment was nothing more than cinder that disintegrated before it could hit the floor.
You were absolutely and undeniably sober after that action. Any thoughts of giving into a kiss dissipated immediately (and you weren’t sure why you were flirting with that idea in the first place). Your blood alcohol level: negative. Your chances of being betrothed to Goyle: positive.
“Charlie!”
“(Y/N)!” he imitated in a loud, whiny drawl that attracted the attention of the man beside him. You flushed; you did not sound like that. “Let’s get another round to soothe those nerves of yours.”
His grin grew wider as he flagged down the bartender. A blonde woman immediately swivelled towards him. He pointed to your drinks. You shut your eyes in defeat, resisting the urge to slam your head on the table.
His laissez-faire attitude was going to be the death of you.
>> NEXT CHAPTER
CHAPTER DIRECTORY
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Hey! I'm searching for a Charlie Weasley x reader or Charlie Weasley x OC fanfic.
It was about Charlie Weasley returning to England after the war (to be closer to his family after Freds death) and becoming the new Care of magical creatures professor at Hogwarts. The OC/reader is a muggle but McGonagall offered her a job as the Muggle Studies teacher.
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One for each of them, one for both of them.
@drinkyoursoupbitch
#artemis hexley#charlie weasley#my quotes#moodboard#Charlie Weasley x oc#best friends to lovers#chartemis
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Our Time To Bloom
Chapter 6: The Secret Garden Inn
<Previous Chapter - All Chapters - Masterlist
Summary: Two months after the war, the couple is more distant than ever. Kate accompanies her grandfather on a trip to Ireland, where her past and present will collide in unexpected ways. Charlie stays in Romania with a decision to make: will he follow her and uncover all unsaid things? Romance/Drama /Mystery
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship
7th, July 1998
On a darkened corner of the tiled hallways of the Ministry, the travelling group started to dissipate. Kate found herself stuck in place, watching the frantic coming and going of wizards and witches.
One of the first things Kingsley Shacklebolt did as a new minister of Magic was opening the doors of the ministry. A decision that was praised by some and feared by others, for it was done only weeks after the war ended.
Kate eyed the increased amount of aurors in every nook, instinctively looking for the easiest escaping route; there were nine aurors near the central fountain, two at every fireplace, one for each lift.
“Miss, please, move out of the way.” An auror touched her elbow from behind and she flinched away, stepping out of his way.
She curled her fingers towards her inner wrist, checking her wand, and made her way towards one lift.
Squeezed between wizards, Kate appeared inside a telephone cabin in London. She instantly brought a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the light.
Across the street, a man and a woman stared at the cabin. To muggles and untrained eyes they could appear as tourists, but Kate recognised the aurors in them.
Once outside, she walked towards the street corner and leaned on the building’s stone. She let her thoughts wander to Charlie again, wondering why he hadn’t accepted her offer. For months she had given him the space he sought, worrying about his silence regarding his brother. She could understand. Merlin, she could, why wouldn’t he open up about it? Since when have they guarded their thoughts like that? You know since when, she thought to herself.
The glass of a showcase in front of her returned her reflection: her hair almost reached her waist now, it had long lost its curliness, leaving muted brown waves instead. She wore simple clothing that day, a loose white shirt tucked inside blue jeans and her old boots. She tapped one against the pavement, avoiding looking at her tired expression.
Not even five minutes passed when she saw a familiar figure strolling in her direction. Her grandfather, Bernard, was a round and short man, with red cheeks and smirking grey eyes. Kate smiled as he approached only carrying a small satchel and an umbrella on his back, anchored with a leather belt across his chest.
“A stór!” His smile grew, and he opened his arms as he walked. Kate pushed herself away from the wall and hopped towards him, accepting his embrace immediately.
She felt him tightening his grip and she let herself relax against him, the faint scent of his cologne washed away her preoccupations.
“Let me look at you.” He took off his glasses, letting them hang from the chain around his neck, and inspected her face with a frown. “How have you been?”
Kate swallowed and forced a smile, placing her hands on his arms to reassure him.
“Better.” She lied. “How are we going to Cobh?”
Bernard squinted almost imperceptibly and Kate knew he noticed the change of topic. He then scanned her belongings and then their surroundings, a light frown appeared again between his brows.
“Ah,” he said with a lighter tone. “Follow me.”
After preventing Bernard from carrying her luggage, Kate followed her grandfather toward a less than frequented alley. Once he had made sure no one was around, he extended his hand to her.
She stared at it for a second and sighed.
“Just one more time. Some portkeys have been cancelled.”
Kate held his hand, resigned, and closed her eyes. For the second time that day, her stomach spiralled, and she disappeared through the void.
Clouded skies and a strong wind greeted them; Kate and Bernard apparated in front of a stone building, a big clock decorated its central tower and three heavy-looking doors stood before them.
Kate squinted and brought her hand to her throat, protecting herself from the wind as best as she could. She turned around and observed the river that split the city. There were several people crossing the bridges or just taking a walk near the water. No one seemed to have paid attention to them.
After one last glance at Cork behind her, she followed Bernard towards the wooden door in the middle.
He patted her hand, “We will have time to explore to your heart’s content. But first…”
The gates opened to reveal a grandiose interior; tall columns separated ostentatious wooden desks, redirecting any visitor’s gaze to the dome’s glass ceiling. A seemingly innocent chandelier hovered above the space scattering rays of light around.
Upon close inspection, Kate noticed an erratic shift caused by the individual movements of the crystal beads. At the end of each ray of light, a letter, a document, or a folder floated to a certain direction to be delivered, and the light was scattered again.
Still walking, Kate heard her grandpa’s voice a second too late and slammed her body against the front desk.
Bernard’s roaring laugh echoed in her ears. She brought her hand to her forehead, massaging slightly and avoiding at all costs eye contact with the figure appearing behind the desk.
Staring at her from above, a silver-haired man with dark olive skin and black eyes waited as she composed herself. A perfectly trimmed eyebrow raised at the display, not without, Kate noticed, a hint of amusement in their expression.
“Not a word.” She warned Bernard. He in return zipped his lips with his thumb and index finger, not bothering to hide his smirk. However, he touched her elbow with gentleness and placed a small pouch in her hand.
“Why don’t you change these for muggle coin, hm? I’ll find you when I’m finished.”
When the transaction was done, Kate searched for a comfortable spot to wait for Bernard and decided on a bench against a wall where she had sight of the main door, her grandfather and most of the back doors leading to other chambers. When the space started to get crowded, she instinctively brought her finger to her inner wrist.
She observed Bernard handing an envelope to a young goblin before walking towards her.
“All done,” he started with a smile and checked his pocket watch, “Now, to catch a train!”
“No more apparitions?”
“No more, A stór.”
Kate managed to relax slightly, and with a smile of her own they marched towards a door in the back.
The gate opened, revealing a blueish veil. Bernard crossed first, and Kate followed with unwavering trust. They appeared on a covered train station and they made their way to buy their tickets.
“There is so much water on the route to Cobh that the line runs across not one but two causeways!” Bernard informed her with enthusiasm while waiting in line.
Kate smiled brightly, genuinely, at her grandfather and listened to his relaxing voice describe the sights they would see on the way.
Despite Bernard’s energetic personality, she noticed the slight agitation of his breathing and the way he unhooked his umbrella to use it as a cane.
“First stop will be Little Island! And then Glounthaune, followed by Fota, which we will be going to visit in a few days. You liking all the plants and such, you must step on the gardens, yes. Then there’s Carrigaloe and Rushbrook and finally Cobh. Half an hour!”
As she listened, she walked them to the closest bench. Bernard sat down with a content sigh.
“I’m very happy you came,” Bernard said sincerely.
Kate sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him pat her knee.
“And I’m very happy you invited me.”
--
Kate looked out of the window, observing the green landscape pass at high speed alongside the river. At some point, yellow and green fences impeded the view and signalled the stop at Fota Wildlife Park. She turned to Bernard, who sat in front of her with a newspaper, with a smile of recognition. To her surprise, her grandfather was assessing her with worry.
“What?” she asked in a hushed voice. She knew what he was going to say, they couldn’t ignore the hippogriff in the room any longer.
“I’ve noticed… That redhead of yours owes me an explanation, he does! Here I am, expecting to see him after all this time,”he continued with a light tone" and he decides that having a job is more important than a trip with his partner’s grandfather?"
Kate avoided his gaze to watch the river again. However, a small, breathy laugh escaped her. She thanked him, in silence, for not asking and for at least trying to lighten her sour mood. He surely didn’t deserve her melancholy. Making up her mind, she placed all her thoughts about Charlie on a small little box in her brain and looked at Bernard again.
“We are going to have fun, you and I.”
The smile that bloomed on the elder’s face remained there for the rest of the trip.
“That,” Bernard announced, turning back towards a brick building after getting off the train, “is what remains of the original station.”
“Now it’s a heritage centre,” Kate observed. Bernard’s expression turned more sombre, and remained pensive, watching the building and the extension of the Port of Cobh while clutching his umbrella.
“Yes, they explain the history of the quayside, from which people emigrated or were forcibly transported to the colonies. Come with me, I found a lovely bed-and-breakfast to stay that I think you’ll enjoy.”
“I know very little of the time you left…” Kate tried. She reminded herself to be patient, to be careful around the stories about her grandparents’ lives in Ireland. “or how.”
To her surprise, Bernard took a solemn breath and smiled at her as they walked.
“It was 1945. And I do remember the exact date, oh yes. Muggles and wizards were at war, both with themselves and each other. It was known… that a Grindelwald’s, you know the man, do you? That a Grindelwald’s supporters group had settled in the area. One day I found my home painted with a message; ‘blood traitors you are next’.
“Because grandma was a muggle?” Kate gasped.
“Among other things.”
Bernard fell silent for a moment, contemplating the sea at their left.
“I panicked. I grabbed your gran and left in a rush. Heading to America.”
Kate’s brows jumped to her hairline, but remained quiet.
“We ended up in Milford Haven. Wales!” he chuckled at Kate’s wide-open eyes. “A misunderstanding that probably saved our lives.”
He looked at her over his glasses, wearing the smirk of a storyteller. He raised a finger,
“On that boat, Julie told me she was with child. Your mam. We went to Cardiff, Merlin knows how, gaining some sickles selling potions on the road, if, and only if we happened to encounter another wizard.”
“You can tell?”
“Oh, yes.” He smirked.
“And then?” Fully invested in the story, Kate struggled to look ahead, wanting to keep her attention on Bernard.
“We settled there until Julie had the babe. Not long after, I heard someone say at the wizarding neighbourhood that a potioneer in Bristol was looking for an assistant. So I sailed again! All by myself, and managed to convince the poor fellow to hire me. I found a place to stay, the best I could afford that wasn’t filled with doxys and Merlin knows what, and sent a letter to your gran. Let me tell you something, muggle post service is embarrassingly slow compared to owls.”
“So she travelled alone with Mama there?”
“She did so, she did.”
“And how did you end up in Stanton then? Where you live now.”
“We stayed in Bristol for a year or so because your gran, as brilliant as she was having a little, how would you say? A little twitching on her fingers, as a manner of speaking, because she wanted to study! We moved to Oxford, then, for her to train. She had a bit of practice with voluntary work at Cobh, so she had all that figured out in a blink.”
They moved to the stone wall to their left, silently letting a cyclist pass them, and resumed their stroll a few minutes more.
“And then your aunt arrived. With two babes and our salaries, part in muggle coin and part in galleons, we couldn’t really afford to live in Oxford. So while Julie finished her training, I travelled around a bit with your mam and auntie and found Stanton! It was small, quiet, and they needed someone with medical experience in town.”
Kate laughed at this, she knew that story. Her grandma was a nurse, but Stanton had no hospital and less than a hundred people living there, so she had been, for a while, ‘The Doc’.
“Here we are.”
Bernard pointed at a white hanging sign in the shape of a house that said, in blue letters,
The Secret Garden Inn
B&B
Bernard opened a small wooden gate for her and walked after her through the gravel path. A three-storey house revealed itself as they advanced, hidden among the trees and abundant vegetation. The garden was well kept, full of blooming flowers whose scent reached Kate’s nose.
The building was bigger than Kate expected for a Bed and breakfast; it was white, with plenty of windows in every corner, a sun-room on one side, and part of the second floor had a wide terrace.
“But grandpa! This is a mansion!”
They shared a chuckle, and after a knock on the door, they entered the building.
The interior was an elegant mix of antique furniture and modern brightness, it was clear that it had been remodelled.
The first thing they encountered was a desk facing them, an older woman, around Bernard’s age, talked in hushed voices on the phone while staring at a computer screen.
She had her hair short, elegantly dyed to a dark brown; her skin had a pale rosy tone, with wrinkles adorning her mouth and jaw and a slightly hooked nosed held a pair of black glasses.
“Ah, but don’t be talking to me like that, lad. Just tell me how to change the colour of the… cells… yes, that.” The woman took a glance at a thick book on her right before typing on the keyboard, the phone trapped between her ear and shoulder. “Eric, phone me in the afternoon, will you? Yes. Yes, bye bye. Bye bye, dear.”
“Good day!” Bernard announced after she hung up.
“Oh, but please be welcome. How can I assist you?”
“We had two rooms reserved under the name of Bernard. That would be me.”
Both Kate and the woman chuckled at the clarification
“I figured as much! That’s no face for a Bernard,” he said, pointing at Kate and standing up. "Perhaps an Arthur or a Phineas suit you better. Come with me, I’ll show you around.”
The woman, named Áine, showed them to their modest rooms on the second floor. Bernard had insisted on her having the room with the double bed, and Kate had only accepted because her grandfather would then have the ocean view.
“That door is off limits, since it leads to the private part of the house.” Áine informed them when they reached the ground floor again. She pointed behind the stairs."Next to it, the kitchen, also off limits."
Bernard nodded, and with his hands clasped behind him, made his way towards the spacious living room. The fireplace was the focus of attention, plenty of photographs and trinkets adorned the mantel and ceiling-high bookshelves guarded each side.
“Feel free to come here as you please to read or play. There are cards and chess, and you can ask for a cup o’ tea at any time if…,” she looked around, “well, she is not here at the moment…”
Kate wandered towards the back of the room; to her left she could glimpse a dining room but what caught her attention was the sight through a window.
“Ah!” Áine announced, "and this way is the reason behind the name of the inn."
The three of them crossed the door that lead to an enclosed garden. The bushes and flowers blocked the view of the street, giving the space privacy and some sense of isolation. A big tree stood proudly right in the middle, giving shade to the centre part of the grass. Some string lights could be seen hanging from the branches, and Kate couldn’t wait to see it at night.
“Here are your keys, Bernard and…”
“Kate.”
“Kate, then. Feel free to come and go as you wish, at a reasonable volume. We close the front door at nine, here’s the key. Just in case you find yourselves discovering Cobh at night. Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven to nine. And with that,” she smiled and clasped her hands, “I hope you have a lovely stay.”
--
After settling in their rooms and accepting the tea Áine had offered, they spent most of the day strolling along the shore, admiring the colourful houses and the different street nooks that looked like they had come out of a storybook. At some point, Kate’s stomach protested, and they made a strategic stop to replenish strength.
“Cobh is probably best known for being the ‘last port of call’ to the ill-fated RMS Titanic who on 11 April 1912, berthed at Queenstown, before she set out across the Atlantic on the last leg of her maiden voyage.[1],” Kate read as they ate on a small tourist book Áine had gifted her. “Do you remember that?” she asked with a teasing smirk.
“For Merlin’s sake, lass, how old do you think I am?”
After Bernard had declared he didn’t have the energy to climb the steep roads to the cathedral and the centre part of the town, they resumed their peaceful walk on the coastline.
“Come here, a stór. See.” With a shaky finger, he pointed at an orange building, right between a bar and a gift shop. It read: P. Donegan and Co. Solicitors.
“Who are they?”
“No clue. That… that was your gran’s house.”
Kate let out a breath. She tried to imagine how it would have looked like before or how she would have looked like as a child. She knew her great grandfather was a fisherman, a sailor, and her great grandmother sold the fish in the market. Or at least they were until the incident.
“It was right over there,” Bernard pointed at the port, “the market. Where that parking is now.” He sighed, lost in thought, and before Kate could reach out to grab his hand, Bernard composed himself. “Ice cream?”
Kate nodded, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that her granny had a life there, on the stones she was stepping on, one that her grandfather was doing his best to show her. After a while, they sat on a bench looking at the sea in comfortable silence, only surrounded by the sound of people, birds, boats and a distant guitar of a street performer.
A dumb idea occurred to her when she saw a tissue on the asphalt about to fall over to the water.
Wingardium Leviosa
She repeated it over and over, focusing on the vision of the tissue flying above the ground. She kept staring at it, brows furrowing and lips pursing.
Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa!
“Kate.”
She turned to Bernard for a second, startled, and then to the place the tissue was being stepped on by some tourists. Kate sighed.
Bernard touched two fingers to her arm gently. “Since when?”
“Since we left Hogwarts’ ruins.” Her lips trembled, and he hummed.
“Can you do magic with a wand?”
“No. Nothing you are about to ask me I can do.”
Bernard nodded as he patted her knee with reassurance, but said nothing else. Kate grazed her eye with a knuckle, not wanting to have a meltdown right in front of him and ruining the lovely day they were having. She pushed her attempt at magic to the side and focused on the repetitive task two men were performing as they moved wooden crates out of a boat until the sun started to set.
-
[1] Text extracted from Cobh and Harbour Chamber website.
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HOME: Book 6 - CHAPTER SIX
MASTERLIST
“Thank you for meeting with me today, Ms. Singer. I am looking forward to having this meeting with you.”
“Thanks, Professor. So am I.”
Veronica sat across from Professor Flitwick in his office after he had sent her an owl earlier in the week to set up a time for this Career Advice Meeting. It was meant to happen last year, but with everything that she had gone through, he thought it would be better to hold off. Besides, they both knew that there was no concern for her future; whatever her career goals were, she would be able to achieve them.
“So, tell me Ms. Singer, what do you aspire to do when you graduate from Hogwarts?”
“Well, actually Professor, I’ve always dreamt of teaching. I’ve always loved the idea of being so knowledgeable about a subject that you can teach it to others. As you know, that’s really the greatest test of one’s knowledge anyway. In my second year, I attempted to teach Charlie some advanced magic… with the Headmaster’s permission of course, and while he wasn’t able to get it in the end, I loved teaching him. I loved explaining the concepts to him and watching him learn. And in third year, I tried to teach those same concepts to another student, and it was fascinating to see my approach to the lessons change based on the person I was teaching. And it solidified in my mind that teaching is what I want to do. But I’m sure you know teaching jobs in the wizarding world are hard to come by as you professors tend to stay in your roles for quite a long time, so I don’t really have a backup plan.”
“Well, Ms. Singer, keep your grades up where they have been for the last five years and you won’t have to worry about your options. You’ll have very many backup plans. And anyway, I don’t think you’ll have to worry much about a backup plan, I think your plan A just might come to pass.”
“What do you mean, Professor? Do you know something I don’t?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, Ms. Singer. You’ll find out soon enough.”
***
“So what did he say when you asked what he meant?”
“He just told me not to worry about it, but how can I not worry? Especially after such a cryptic message like that!”
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