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wisteria-blooms · 25 days

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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (10/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: I might have a cold coming on, ugh. Thought I'd get this out if I'm afflicted by illness AGAIN. And apologies in advance if there are mistakes I missed while reading it over! Feel free to let me know about them + what you think about the story!

CHAPTER 10 : What goes up must come down. Your relationship with Charlie is no exception. (5.6k words)

CHAPTER 10: YOU DON'T OWN ME

“What happened?”

Your voice was pitchy and stricken with worry. Your eyes urgently implored Charlie to provide a reason for his concern as if it was more important for you to hear than it was to him. You’d never seen Charlie in this state, though you supposed you’d barely been around for two months of his life, and no important moments at that.

Charlie read: “Fleur’s in labour. Come when you can. Love, mum.”

“You got it, Charlie.” Stan obeyed by performing the sharpest u-turn known to mankind, on the narrowest road known to mankind. The force flung your body towards the windows this time but Charlie effortlessly caught you by the wrist. When you recovered from another near-death incident with the metal insides of Knight Bus, Charlie’s words sunk in.

“Charlie!” you exclaimed.

“(Y/N)!” he returned with equal excitement, blue eyes widening.

You got back on your knees, bone meeting the plush covers of the bed, found a stable moment in Stan’s driving, and clapped your hands together giddily. “You’re going to be an uncle!”

The moment—half past midnight—you entered the obstetrics wing of St. Mungos was precisely the moment you asked yourself: why were you here? Why had you followed Charlie here? It felt natural to drunkly stumble out of Stan’s bus with Charlie to help him find his way to the right wing, but when Bill (who was standing by a water fountain) came into view, you felt like you had intruded on a personal moment.

”Shit, Bill, I’m sorry,” Charlie apologized as he strode into the waiting area. Your nervous gait reflected in the windows, the colours of your long skirt spilling on the black skies outside, brightened only with a speckling of stars. You left a considerable amount of space between Charlie and yourself, not wanting Bill to perceive your being here as impolite. You hoped the green chairs would provide enough coverage if you stood behind them.

“This was precisely the reason I told you I couldn’t make the concert,” Bill explained, pulling Charlie into a hug. The hug was long. Bill made eye contact with you as he released Charlie.

“How was the concert?” Bill asked, looking at you.

“It was excellent,” you said. “We got—Charlie got Molly’s letter at the end of it.” You hoped this would absolve you of your uninvited presence.

”Well, thank you for taking my place,” Bill said with a smile. “Charlie was never going to let me live it down.”

”(Y/N) was better company, anyway,” Charlie scoffed. “And easier on the eyes.”

“Of course she is,” Bill agreed, nudging Charlie with his elbow.

“You wound me, Bill,” Charlie protested, holding his side.

Bill smirked. “You know what wounds me? The fact you missed the birth of your niece and almost made me miss it, too.”

“What are you boys bickering about now?” Molly chided, stepping out of the room. Her hair was frazzled, the bulk of it pulled back into a bun. She appeared more stressed than the nurses walking out the room before her. Her expression softened immediately at the sight of her second eldest son. “Charlie! You’re here.”

“Of course, mum.” Charlie walked over to give his mother a hug, his body towering over hers.

“Come meet Victoire. The others will come tomorrow to give Fleur some breathing room.” Then, Molly noticed you. Your grasp on the green leather chair tightened and your chest strained anxiously at the same. “(Y/N),” she called out sweetly. “Would you like to come, too?”

“Oh, no, I can wait here,” you said, sliding over to sit on a chair. “Please, take as long as you need.”

“Alright, then,” Molly said. She placed a hand on both Charlie and Bill’s backs and guided them back into the delivery room.

You exhaled heavily when they left. A pounding tension still lingered in your jaw; you were so embarrassed. You should’ve waited downstairs in the lobby instead of following Charlie upstairs. You were certain that as nice as Molly was, she was going to talk about your gaffe with her neighbours over tea: her perfect son’s only-remarkable-because-of-what-her-last-name-affords-her girlfriend invited herself to meet her first grandchild. And can you believe she might’ve been drinking prior to it? Ruined the occasion. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. Next time, you’d think things through.

“Don’t drop her!” a shrill voice, muted by the door, rang out.

You looked up.

“I promise I won’t, mum! Now, calm down. Not even Fleur is worried,” came the response. Definitely Charlie.

“He did a decent job holding onto the snitch back in school.” That was Bill.

Then, a delicate little laugh complemented by Bill’s deeper one.

“See, mum, nothing to fret over. She’s perfectly happy in her uncle’s arms.”

Your mind crafted an image of Charlie holding the newborn in his arms. There was a tender look in his blue eyes as he cradled something so delicate and precious. You felt the look of love through your vision and for a moment, the weight on your chest lifted.

Every single detail of the night of the concert lingered in your mind for the next couple of days. You replayed each segment in your mind. Charlie taking you to pub and meeting Don. Charlie’s show of some emotion—jealousy?—and the touch of his hand on your hip in front of Alex. The moment in Stan’s bus, and had it not been for that owl, something might’ve happened. A confession, a kiss… you would’ve been pleased with either outcome. But you sung high praises for that aforementioned owl; it led to you being able to witness him being there for his niece’s first moments. You reckoned you handled it perfectly well, passing yourself off as a supportive partner rather than a nosy one.

Feelings of infatuation overwhelmed you as you tried to scrub them away at the dirt-speckled skin of a potato. It was Monday evening and you were running high on the fumes of adrenaline. You’d decided to expel that energy by trying your hand in the kitchen. A recipe for leek and potato soup caught your eye and it seemed easy enough. You figured Charlie might appreciate it too, given how he’d made fun of there not being a meal ready for him previously. He said he’d be back this evening, and you were going to be ready for it this time. You even pulled down two wine glasses in anticipation.

You nearly nicked your finger with the peeler when you heard keys in the front door. You drew in a deep breath and extended your hands over the top of your head to smooth out any flyaways. But really, did the rugged, sun-kissed, outdoor-prone Charlie Weasley care about how your hair looked? Before you could answer, Charlie walked in with a small duffel bag slung over his shoulders. His hair was dishevelled, his cheeks rosy, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin.

Your heart nearly gave out at the sight. Heavens, he looked even more handsome like this.

“Letter for you, (Y/N),” was Charlie’s greeting.

”Thank you,” you said. “Just set it down on the table there, if you don’t mind.” “Where’ve you been?” you asked, trying to keep your eagerness to a minimum.

Charlie closed the door behind him. “I took up Mallory’s offer of Quidditch.”

Oh.

Your smile dropped but you prayed that Charlie didn’t see it.

Something more bitter and darker washed out the sweet taste in your mouth. “How was it?”

”Great!” Charlie replied cheerily. “Reminded me of old times.”

You didn’t dare ask what those old times consisted of. Treacherous images of post-celebratory locker room make-outs and late-night “practice” sessions came to mind.

“I got around to chatting with her brother, Marcus,” Charlie added. “ When I wasn’t being tackled down to the ground or gasping for breath, at least. I forgot how well-connected he was to all the Ministry departments.”

More treacherous images flooded your mind. Charlie. Entangled with Mallory. On the field. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, stellar guy. I reckon I should keep in touch with him.” Charlie shedded his bag and his jacket. ”What are you making? It smells good.”

You beamed at his question. “I figured I’d take one out of Millicent’s book, seeing both you and I are such fans now.”

Charlie sucked some air through his teeth. “Bad night for me to grab dinner with old classmates, huh?”

“Oh, not at all,” you waved Charlie’s sentence off with a shake of your head. You shuffled slightly over to your left to conceal the second wine glass you’d pulled out. “There will be quite a bit left over, if you want it.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Charlie said. “I’m going to shower before I head out. Want to join?”

”No, I have dinner—” you stopped yourself, your peeler wedged in the crevice of a potato and refusing to budge. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Your chest felt strange, a strong ache casting shadows on where there was just so much joy. “I’ll see you afterwards.”

Charlie responded with a crooked smile and clamped his lips together like he was concealing a retort. You imagined it would’ve gone something like, ‘Ah, so you were thinking about joining me in the shower. How naughty of you, (Y/N).’

Well, no kidding. What sane person would refuse an elusive chance to see Charlie shirtless? The longer you thought about it, the more you could taste the hot beads of water coating his hair, running down the nape of his neck, down his chest and into the ridges of his abs.

Your steam-ridden daydream was shot by you remembering of why he was in such desperate need of a shower.

His mention of Mallory and his dinner plans made you want to dump the contents of the soup—that you’d made a second time over because you’d burned the first batch—into the sink. You feared how much more Mallory could get under his skin when you weren’t around him. Trying to quell your building insecurities, you had to rationalize it and break it down for your own sanity. ‘Friends’ was a plural word; Charlie and Mallory weren’t going to be alone at dinner. Charlie loved Quidditch. Mallory loved Quidditch. You didn’t love Quidditch. It was easy for the thought of inviting you to slip his mind. Charlie clearly talked to Mallory’s brother, Marcus as well. And most importantly, Charlie wasn’t your boyfriend or some committed lover or a lover of any sort. That prohibited you from asking anything of him.

Besides, he was going to come home after…right?

You brushed off these thoughts as fanatical insinuations. Maybe you were going a little stir-crazy from Charlie’s flirting. When you heard the shower start, you slipped the extra wine glass back in its place and topped your own glass off. You needed it, because what else did Malfoys do when faced with trivial matters besides drinking them away? The dose was derived from observing your father: two glasses for a mild inconvenience, four for a moderate one, and the whole bottle for a considerable issue.

The situation at hand was pretty moderate, so four glasses it was.

In the reflection of the window, you saw your father’s eyes staring back at you. They held the same look of perturbance and wondering of why you should have to deal with any misfortune. You really were his daughter.

The effect of the alcohol cushioned the pain of Charlie leaving through the door. He looked well-combed and delectable and ready to slip right into Mallory’s arms. Or into her mouth. No, you scolded yourself, none of that nonsense. After a lonesome dinner, your fork scraping your teeth in contemplation more than scraping the bowl, you sorted the leftovers into containers. You had your bath and went straight to bed.

Sleep that night was not only futile, it was wishful thinking. You tossed and turned. When you turned the light on again, both the hour and minute hand on your clock inched perilously close to two, meaning it was that late and Charlie still wasn’t back. He’d been gone for almost six hours.

You should’ve been asleep right now. You should’ve been fine right now. You shouldn’t be fretting over Charlie right now. So, why were you staring at the ceiling, a bruising feeling consuming your bones?

Before Charlie came into your life, you were trying to prove a point to your parents: you didn’t need a partner. And you’d always sworn you wouldn’t let the affections of a man change you; you preferred to operate independently. Now, you were absolutely sick over Charlie. Sometime in the past couple weeks, you’d gone from not really caring where he was to your mood beating to the sound of his drums. Merlin, you were a raging hypocrite.

The memories you had thought beautiful seemed so ugly now. His act of blowing off dinner in favour of hanging out with Mallory and her friends cheapened everything that happened over the weekend. And how was it fair that Charlie was free to spend his nights as he pleased, while the moment you engaged with Alex, he led you away? Wouldn’t it be preposterous if you showed up to the bar he was at right now and made a show by snatching him back in front of Mallory? If you did it, you’d look crazy. But when Charlie did it, it was chivalrous.

As you fluffed your pillow just to lay down again, you thought about your friend, Alicia Spinnet. She used to complain about the men she dated and the ways they cycled hot and cold. They were indecipherable, affectionate one day and gone the next. In the end, they wanted nothing more than a fling which led to numerous late-night conversations with her asking you where she’d gone wrong or if those men were really interested in the first place. The pain she felt was only punctuated when she saw them out with a real partner months later.

While you empathized with her by providing long hugs, ice-cream, and promises of getting petty revenge, you didn’t think yourself as so naive to find yourself in such a situation. You’d look for the signs, you’d know when to leave. But now, you felt so, so stupid.

Charlie Weasley was not different; he was exactly the type of men Alicia complained about. At this point, you weren’t even sad. You were angry and you didn’t know who to be angry with.

“You look like shit.”

You eked out a smile. “Thank you, Fred.”

You stopped by Cauco and Weasley Wizard Wheezes the next morning just before work. Neither place brought you much peace after what had happened with Charlie there, but Fred and George were the cure-all to any sort of pain. And the last time you trekked from Cauco to the shop, you hadn’t met Charlie yet, so maybe this would serve as some sort of spiritual reset.

You almost choked on your coffee order. You’d asked for the strongest drink as a feeble attempt to get through the day and you were served accurately. You peeled off the sleeve trying to ascertain how many shots of espresso were exactly in this concoction. Oh—was that a 3 or 8?

The delivery man finished stacking a boatload of parcels near the front and readied a slip in front of you. You counted the boxes and signed off on it for Fred and George who were busying themselves with opening duties. You thanked the worker as he left.

From there, you walked around the shop and gently rearranged some crooked products as a means to distract yourself. Charlie did get back last night, interrupting your very light sleep. You heard him brushing his teeth around 3 a.m. It was early enough to signify he didn’t spend the entire night in Mallory’s bed but late enough for the opportunity of an emotional and physical rekindling to occur. You slipped past him this morning as he slept in. You had no desire to ask him how last night went as your first conversation of the day.

You were confused. The burning desire to be by Charlie’s side flamed out so quickly after he’d mentioned Mallory. Was what you thought you felt even real, then?

“Want to do something this weekend?” you asked quickly.

“I always want to do something,” Fred was the first to respond. “But I figured your days were better spent on maintaining appearances with Charlie.”

“No,” you corrected quickly. “I think we’ve done well enough not to require anymore… appearances together.”

“It’s settled then,” Fred proclaimed. “Let’s hop a couple of bars and see where we end up.”

“(Y/N) will be on the floor,” George sang. “Just like before.”

You giggled at George’s lyricism as you propped up a Skiving Snackbox. “I will not!”

Talking and making plans with Fred and George always took a weight off your shoulders. You went home that night feeling ready for whatever punches and hooks life was going to throw at you. You, however, stalled when you arrived back to an empty apartment again. You walked down the hallway and into the kitchen where you stopped in front of the fridge. Curiously, you peeked in to find your leftovers untouched, and you felt your resolve falter for a moment. Did it taste bad? Or did Charlie have no need for it because he was sustained by something else?

You took a deep breath to ground yourself. You had to stop thinking about this for your own sanity. Charlie and Mallory could move out to the countryside and have their perfect, beautiful academically-gifted, athletic, curly-haired, bright-eyed babies. You swore you’d wish him well when that day came. Maybe you’d even send him a gift basket.

You were going to be fine.

You didn’t see Charlie until Friday evening after he’d arrived home from the train station. He intercepted you at the door just as you were about to leave for your night out.

“Hold up, (Y/N). What are you doing next week?” Charlie asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You felt as if you’d been punched in the gut. He looked so good.

Composing yourself, you said: “You’re going to have to be more precise.”

“End of the workweek?” Charlie tried again.

“I’ll be working.”

“Can’t take the time off?”

“I can’t afford to anymore.”

Charlie frowned. “That’s unfortunate.”

You put on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t have years worth of vacation banked up like you.”

“What about the weekend?”

“I’ll have plans.”

“They’re more important than me?”

“Maybe.”

“I like this new side of you, (Y/N),” Charlie remarked with a smirk. The same smirk that would’ve sent a heart-stopping shockwave through your body last week and left you dreaming the whole night. “I didn’t know you could tease like that.”

You now felt nothing but annoyance. Charlie obviously didn’t care enough to ask who your friends were or why you were blowing him off like this.

“Thank you, Charlie,” you said amicably. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you slipped out from the gap underneath his arm and hurried to the lift.

Fred and George were more than ready to go when you joined them on the main floor of their shop. It was pitch-black outside and the shop was long closed, but they’d left a side door open for you. George already had a potent shot prepared for you which you happily accepted.

“To another one of (Y/N)’s successful schemes!” proclaimed George as he clinked glasses with you and Fred. You threw back the shot with the boys.

“What was the scheme again?” Fred set his glass down and exhaled in pleasure. “That’s some good stuff.”

”I think it was to throw her bloodhound parents off her scent,” George said. “By using Charlie.”

“Or to seduce our brother.”

George nodded. “We may never know (Y/N)’s true intentions.”

“Hey!” you protested. “That was not the reason.”

“I don’t know,” George tutted. “You seem to rather fancy living with him.”

“He’s not a terrible roommate. I like that he doesn’t talk incessantly like some people. You know, by trying to fill in any quiet gap.”

It was Fred’s turn to protest. “Hey!”

“It’s true, though!” you laughed. “Charlie said you told him about our adventures in Care of Magical Creatures. Is that any detail you couldn’t have spared?”

“Oh, of course,” Fred stated. “There isn’t a soul in the world who doesn’t know about your failed adventures.”

You went quiet. The rush of bantering with Fred and George was washing out into a muted anger. So, Fred did tell Charlie you’d failed. Your voice was low when you asked: “Is that how you described it? My failed adventures?”

Fred stroked his chin. “Something like that. Maybe not those exact words. I said it was interesting he’d spend so much time around someone the complete opposite of him.”

“No, I reckon those were the exact words you used,” George said with a laugh. Neither men had picked up on the way your jaw tensed. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“How do you do reckon we’re the opposite?” you asked. You had to know.

Fred, still oblivious to the fact you were getting upset, answered honestly. “He’s a natural with beasts and creatures. You’ve no instinct for them—”

“And Quidditch, and the opposite sex,” George added. “Amongst other things.”

If this conversation had occurred on any other day, you would’ve belly-laughed yourself into the ground; you knew your faults. But today wasn’t any other day. You still had unresolved pain to contend with. Your mind instantly jumped back to Charlie and Mallory. Mallory was probably great at handling creatures and Quidditch, and if she had Charlie in the bag, then she was great with the opposite sex.

“Is there anything you can’t keep to yourself?” you snapped. Fred finally picked up on your cues, your question slapping the grin off of his face. “Why do you have to hold the fact I failed that stupid elective over my head?”

“Whoa—what’s this about? You haven’t cared about this in 10 years.” Fred said in defence.

“What makes you think I don’t care? I don’t go around telling people what you’ve failed!”

“It’s just Charlie, (Y/N),” Fred rationalized. “He won’t hold it over your head.”

“I’m sorry, you mean the Charlie whom I’ve barely met until this September?” You inched closer to Fred. You wanted to hammer the point home, make him feel sorry for the first time in his life. “How about you give someone a chance to meet me before you give them an opinion of me?”

“Hey, I didn’t mean—”

“(Y/N), really,” George stepped in against your wishes, “He’s our brother, we know him. He really doesn’t care.”

You wanted to scream. “Why do you think it’s just about Charlie?” But it was, it really was. “It’s about how you treat me in front of other people. Do you find it so humorous to take jabs at me?”

“Of course not!” Fred responded hastily, genuine worry in his eyes. “(Y/N), let me—”

You pounded the table with your palm. “Just forget it!”

The shot glasses rattled. Fred took a step back.

George’s eyebrows furrowed. “(Y/N), let Fred—”

You threw your arms up in the air, exasperated. “Why don’t you talk to me when you’re ready to apologize?”

You grabbed your coat and stomped out of the shop and out onto the cold, cobbled street. The door swung shut behind you and blocked out any last apologies if any were to be had. You waited for a couple seconds. Fred didn’t bother to follow you out. Of course he wouldn’t. And you weren’t going to look back to confirm it.

Diagon Alley was afflicted with wintry darkness and a nippy front. It only got worse as you walked on, your face battered by headwinds. The cold winds stung your cheeks and froze the tears that had begun forming in your eyes. Not only was your friendship with Charlie deteriorating right in front of you, but you were letting how you felt about him dictate your feelings towards other people: Fred who unwaveringly had your back, and George who was just trying to help. You lost both of them in the span of one night and it was all your fault.

As much as you tried to shake off your last name, you were a Malfoy through and through. Pleasant when people served your purpose, cold when you got what you wanted. You deserved to be standing here, shivering as you walked down the street with no one rushing up to put an arm or coat around you.

Now where were you going to go? You couldn’t find refuge within your family. Hadn’t you worn down your relationship with them because of Charlie, too? You couldn’t go back to the shop with Fred and George—you were sure they resented you. You couldn’t go back to your apartment. But why even consider that? Charlie was probably taking advantage of your outing to escape under the covers with Mallory.

And Charlie, oh, Charlie. If he wasn’t going to like you because of your poor handling of magical creatures, then he certainly wasn’t going to like you after the way you treated his brothers—his family. You kicked up a patch of dirt in anger and let the loose soil splay over your stockings.

The thought of being alone and the pain shooting up your toe released the tears you’d been holding back. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. The salty stream trickled down your skin until they caught on the corners of your lips. You pulled your scarf upwards to mute the sob working its way up to your throat. And much like your tears, once the cries started, you couldn’t stop.

You woke the next morning with a strong ache in your back and a pounding headache. Your lips were chapped, glued in certain spots from the lack of water. You pushed yourself off the scratchy pillowcase, your movement stirring a creak in the bed. The cloth that wrapped around the lamp beside you was mottled, and the gold paint scratched away to reveal the harsh grey base layer.

Your sense of hearing came back when the pounding of your head retreated, but it was only to make way for the thudding of bodies and moans spilling out on the other side of the thin wall. Your sense of smell came alive next, picking up on the smell of bacon grease wafting upwards through the floorboards. As if you couldn’t feel sicker.

How the mighty (Y/N) Malfoy had fallen, you thought as you scrunched up the starchy bedsheets. From her canopy bed in her mansion to a paper-thin mattress in a sketchy motel she checked herself into because she had nowhere else to go.

In the washroom, you did your best to comb out your hair with your fingers and wipe off the smudged makeup from under your eyes. You’d figure out the wrinkled clothing later on. At the very least, your topcoat would conceal the fact you slept in last night’s clothes. When you deemed yourself presentable, you walked onto the street and turned towards a different coffee shop.

A rush of blonde hair suddenly obfuscated your peripheral vision. You stumbled from the impact of two girls grazing your sides. You looked up in confusion at what had just happened.

“Girls, come back here,” a stern voice called out.

The two girls turned back but caught your eyes first.

“(Y/N)?” the taller one called out.

Okay, now you were even more confused. “Clara?”

“That’s me!” she said. Clara ran over and threw herself in your arms. Still in a state of shock, you returned the hug.

If this was Clara, then there was only one possibility as to who the other girl was. “Hello, Charlotte,” you greeted. Charlotte came sprinting over in a frenzy and enveloped you from the side.

You never understood how Clara and Charlotte weren’t twins. They had a whole two years of genetic possibilities separating them, but they still maintained so much likeliness. It was as if Aunt Rosamund and your Uncle Leon copied and imprinted preset genes into their offspring. They both had Aunt Rosamund’s platinum blonde hair though wispier and wavier. They were both small and nimble, fairy-like in their stature. It was impossible to detach either girl from their love of reading fantasy and romance novels. You supposed childish wonder helped preserve their everlasting youth.

Given that Clara and Charlotte were here, it could only mean one thing. The woman who’d called for them was none other than—

You turned around. “Hello, Aunt Rosamund.”

Aunt Rosamund quirked a pointed eyebrow at you, her inquisitive green eyes sweeping you up and down. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Her silver hoop earrings perfectly complemented her white suit and cloak. She twisted her mouth which pulled her cheekbones—looking so much like her older brother, Lucius, in the process—meaning she was ready to pass judgement. You braced yourself.

”Goodness, you look terrible, (Y/N). Did you sleep on the streets yesterday?”

Ouch. Well, at least it wasn’t your Uncle Theo. Things could be worse.

“I had a long night. It’s been busy at work,” you responded.

“You may benefit from a de-puffing potion,” Aunt Rosamund continued, now staring into your eyes. “I have a contact in Luxembourg who is the Chief of Operations at a cosmetic company that carries simply the best line of anti-aging products. I’ll set an appointment up for you.”

You touched your face, fingers grazing swells of your eyelids from all the crying you did last night. “Oh, this is temporary. It’ll fade.”

“Hm,” Aunt Rosamund said, half-believing you as she pressed her red lips together.

“She doesn’t look like a vagabond, mother. I like it. It’s rather bohemian,” Charlotte commented sweetly as she smoothed out your topcoat for you. “And (Y/N) looks even more youthful with her puffy eyes.” Alright, bohemian and youthful—you’d take it.

“So, what are you girls doing here?” you asked, trying to move the limelight away from your appearance.

“We wanted to see Christmas in London!” Charlotte piped up.

Clara sighed wistfully. “There’s a certain sense of romance that lingers in the air here that you can’t find anywhere else.”

You were gobsmacked. These girls had the entirety of Europe in their little hands and they wanted to see Christmas here? “Really?“

“You should know, (Y/N)! You live here,” Charlotte harped.

Even more puzzled, you stated: “It’s only November.”

Charlotte took your hand. “Sure, but we have to be back in Switzerland in December. And I can’t wait for you to visit us then.”

You squeezed her palm affectionately. “Me neither.”

”Come on, girls,” Aunt Rosamund called. “We have to be on our way to brunch. You can discuss your plans with (Y/N) when we arrive at your uncle Lucius’s at noon.”

“See you later, (Y/N)!” Charlotte said, giving you one last hug, before running off to her mother.

“Bye, (Y/N)!” Clara repeated.

As the three ladies ambled on, you stood there motionless, wondering what the hell you had missed.

Charlie was on the couch when you ran into your apartment. You huffed as you shut the door, having sprinted here to make the best of the hour you were given before you had to be back at the Manor.

“Hey,” was the first thing out of Charlie’s mouth when he saw you. Were your eyes betraying you, or did he genuinely look concerned? “Where were you last night?”

“Uhm,” you stammered, his question really wedging you in between a rock and a hard place. Should you lie or lie? You didn’t feel like divulging about the night you spent crying in a dirt-cheap inn. “With Fred and George.”

Charlie’s shoulders released in relief. “That’s good. I was a little concerned when you didn’t come home.”

Well, didn’t that make two of you?

“I’m going to freshen up. I have family visiting today.”

Charlie perked up. Begrudgingly, you attempted to read him. Was he excited that you were going to be gone? Your absence would surely afford him more opportunities with Mallory.

“Which side?” he asked. “Mum, dad?”

“My father’s.”

“Is it your Uncle Theo or Aunt Rosamund?”

You raised your eyebrows. “You remember?”

“I couldn’t forget your fantastic descriptions. So, who is it?”

“My Aunt Rosamund.”

“Do you need me to accompany you?”

Sharply, you said: “No.”

“Alright then,” Charlie said, falling back on the couch. “Don’t forget about me.”

“I’ll try my best, Charlie, no promises.”

You opened the door to your room and rummaged through the closet for an outfit that wouldn’t suffer the scrutiny of Aunt Rosamund. You heard the thud of footsteps drawing closer and stopped.

“Before you go, (Y/N), can you think over one thing for me?” Charlie asked.

You almost laughed when you spun around. Charlie’s head looked like it was decapitated and hanging from the way he positioned himself at the door. “Depends on what it is.”

“Is there any Thursday and Friday you could take off?”

You frowned.

Like how Alicia’s stories usually went, this was the part where the guy (Charlie) would try to win your affections back after realising you’d turned cold. Shower you with praise and compliments and his undivided attention. Charlie was about to feed and rescue you from the famine he started. And when you thought you were safe in his arms, he was sure to starve you for good.

You weren’t going to let that happen. You weren’t going to be a crumpled mess on the floor again.

“Sure,” you said coolly. “I’ll think about it.”

However deflated you sounded, it didn’t impact Charlie in the slightest. He looked as gleeful as the day he’d gotten his Hogwarts acceptance letter. “Aren’t you going to ask why?”

You placed a hand on your hip, willing to humour him one last time. “Alright, why, Charlie?”

When the response spilled from Charlie’s lips, you realised you had no playbook to navigate the question he’d just posed.

>> NEXT CHAPTER (COMING SOON)!

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

@badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan @morks-watermelon @nobodysbabydoll @annoyingbean630 @bathwater101 @ladylizzieofdarbyshire

#charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you

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rae-pottah · 6 months

Note

omgomgomg ok we all know that fred teases and stuff all the time and it’s in every fic ever and a lot of the time he’s like mean (or.. in some cases.. well you know) but i’ve literally never seen him like that.. anyway all that to say can you please do a fic (no smut) where he’s just an absolute sweetie and absolutely so whipped for reader (but like not in a cringe way LMAO)

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: She/her pronouns, fluff, golden retriever!fred, established relationship

Summary: You have Fred trained well

----------------------------------------------

*Y/n's POV*

Soon it will be Christmas, and I will be going home with my boyfriend to meet his family for the first time. It's exciting and scary at the same time, but for now, we live like normal. I had just gotten to breakfast when I realized I was missing my potions text book, we had potions first. I let out a frustrated groan.

"What's wrong m'dear?" Fred asked worriedly

"Nothing, just left my text book in the common room, I'll have to eat quickly then go grab it" I breath out

"Ah, no love, I'll go get it! You eat, I've been down here for a while"

"Oh will you Fred?! Thank you m'love!" I kiss him on his cheek before sitting down tiredly. If I had turned around I would have seen his blush and the way he touched his cheek with a soft smile before he went to go get the book

"Whipped" I hear Ginny say under her breath, I look toward the girl with a smile

--meeting the family--

I had been anxious to meet his family, I don't know what they're like. That's why I brought a deck of muggle cards to maybe teach Mr. Weasley a couple games.

I obviously had already met, Percy, George, Ron and Ginny. But the others I had never met. The door gets thrown open

"OH! HOW WONDERFUL! Y/n, we've heard so much about you!" I get pulled into a hug from Mrs. Weasley.

"And I, you! It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Weasley" I suddenly felt calm in her embrace

"Oh please, please darling call me Molly" she starts "We've already started dinner, I hope you don't mind"

"Of course not! please lead the way" I follow her right in through the living room to the kitchen and table area "lovely home you have" I say as I looked around with wide eyes, adoring the wood, adoring the homeliness

"Oh thank you dear, such a sweetheart" she mumbles the last part, hand on her heart

"Oh! Dar-mling! Hw ar ya-" Fred says, while chewing his food, I simply tap my finger to my lips and he lets out a sound of recognition, he chews his food quickly (with his mouth shut), swallows and stands up

"Sorry about that love, How are you?" he asked kindly

"I'm great, darling" I look over to his family who, other than Percy, George, Ron and Ginny, looked shocked

"Bloody hell, that's a brilliant witch!" a tall, muscled, red head, with scars all over any area showing, approached me "I'm Charlie, Charlie Weasley, whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

"Haha, He's trained well" Molly approached with a huge hug

"You are my new daughter in-law, I will accept no one else"

"Oh-Pfft" I let out a giggle as I turn back to Fred, he looks toward the floor with a shy smile and light blush, I grab his hand and sit at the table with my new in-laws

As the night continued I had played 4 or 5 hands of poker with Mr. Weasley and Fred, who was sulking because we were going to play without him

--The common room--

"Darling, hand me that" I pointed at the book to the left of the chair I was on, that was on a stand nearly connected to the couch

"of course Love" he said quickly while playing with a fire cracker he found in one of their old trunks

"Thank you love"

Ginny looks at Ron who looks at George, they all then break into laughter

---------------------------

That's all I got folks

#hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts houses #hogwarts oc #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic #weasley twins #george weasley #bill weasley #charlie weasley

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hphm-jeniferltheman · 3 months

Text

That random choice in Gryffindor Celebration TLSQ

I Find the third choice of the game so random... but definitely jeni as a romantic would say at that situation 🤣. As always, Ben unconsciously brushes off jeni's feelings... again. The two gryffindor girls at the back was from charms class that the mc help, they were kind and sweet girls to mc that its hard for me to forget so i gotta include them here at least. Also there was a ben and ismelda moment in this tlsq, and here I am thinking there would be a sweet moment of the two. But it ended up ben blackmailing ismelda for being stubborn but the mc stopped ben. Like wth was that, i thought they would enhance the two's relationship that they randomly started but they didn't??? Im disappointed again.

aight, thats all the thought i got from this tlsq, sayonara~🫶

#i feel like its a tease for the remaining Ben lovers out there ...and yet i still fell for it lmao #hphm #hogwart mystery #hphm fanart #hogwarts mystery fanart #jeniferl theman #ben copper #ben x jeniferl #hogwarts mystery #hphm oc #hphm mc #charlie weasley #jeniferl in other art style #hphm charlie #hphm ben #bill weasley #hphm bill #gryffindor #gryffindor celebration

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slygirl666 · 5 months

Text

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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the-al-chemist · 8 months

Text

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.

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p0isonyouth · 5 months

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Calling Harry Potter Fans!

If you have a wattpad account, stroll along to my account for a charlie weasley fanfic! This will be the first installation in my golden trio series, Wicked Chaos, and the (technically) first published book in my overall series, Poisoned Youth, so be sure to check it out!!!!

#wattpad #oc #harry potter #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #charlie weasley #weasley #series #poisonedyouth #wickedchaos #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #marauders

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thegreatwicked · 3 months

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Ok, so I have an idea... Yes, it's another WIP but hear me out!

I think Charlie Weasely is probably... how do you say? Smoking hot. And I'm pretty sure he rocks a man bun, so I was recently challenged to write a love interest for him so I made a character but being as I am SWAMPED with stories, I just need to know if anyone would be interested in this story aside from moi. So here's a little something I made up... I might write it anyway though. Lord, I have NEVER delved into the HP fandom before...

In the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War, Charlie Weasley, the recluse of the Weasley family, delves into dragon rehabilitation in Romania. Renowned for his inclination toward dragons rather than people, he temporarily sets aside his parents' hopes of him settling down, seeking solace amidst his scaly companions.

Despite his intimate connection with the creatures, Charlie and his colleagues encounter an unprecedented challenge – dragons so deeply scarred by the war that the prospect of healing appears bleak. Relief comes from overseas in the form of Océane Laveau, an American witch possessing a natural talent for soothing magical creatures, aligning seamlessly with Charlie's own abilities. The dynamics of his secluded world undergo a transformation as Océane arrives, bringing her distinctive New Orleans drawl and voodoo-rich roots, injecting a new essence into the Romanian landscape.

As they collaborate to mend the wounds of the traumatized dragons, a profound connection blossoms. The dragons, renowned for their lifelong bonds, reflect the growing ties between the two humans committed to comprehending and mending them.

Amid the fiery journey of dragon rehabilitation, will Charlie and Océane recognize that their own sparks might be as undeniable as those illuminating the majestic creatures under their care?

#not another wip #Harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oc #charlie weasley #the lone weasely #New fandoms are scary #When the fandom kinda of scares you #charlie weasely x original female character #original female character #ilvermorny witch #ilvermorny #horned serpent #i have too many stories #Charlie weasely likes his dragons

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aneshkablack · 1 year

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A snowny kiss

Okey, I know I give it late, but I hope you like it. @madelineorionswan, I was your Secret Santa. I inspired in your one-shoot "A Snowny Kiss". I'm better drawing than writing in English (I do in Spanish language, but I didn't think you like to translate first my fic to understand it), taking the decision to do this image where the love between Charlie and Madeline could feel. I admit it's the first time I draw a kiss, it was a challenge for me, and with the landscape, I remembered when I painted with oleo. I wish you Merry (late) Christmas and a Happy New 2023!

Thanks to @hphmsecretsanta for the opportunity to be part of this event and waiting me a little more.

#hphmss22 #charlie x mc #charlie weasley #hphm secret santa #madeline orionswan #charlie x madeline #madelineorionswan #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts fanart #hphm fanart #charlie x oc #others mc's #jacob's sibling

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blankdblank · 1 year

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x Charlie Weasley, Sebastian Krum, Barty Crouch Jr/OC’s -

Anaticula -

Prequel to Ridikulus - Life in Hogwarts and path to bringing down the Dark Lord with the drama of trying to just be a teenager.

Pt 1 Marauders - The Next Generation – Off to School - Pt 2 Hogwarts - Pt 3 Ghost Snakes - Pt 4 Azkaban - Pt 5 - Pt 6 Quidditch, Christmas, Longbottoms - Pt 7 The Grangers - Pt 8 Second Semester –

#Harry Potter #OC x Charlie Weasley #Found Family #Hurt/comfort #Emotional trauma #Hogwarts #Girl who died protecting him #boy who lived

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yoselin-uyu · 1 year

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11.11 - She's gonna go all till the end

And since then.. Charlie never challenged Joshua again, did he ? ಠωಠ HAPPY POCKY DAY ✨💫

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wisteria-blooms · 6 months

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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (5/??)

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!) 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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akikocho · 1 year

Text

Before going to sleep, Imma just share the colored sketch (more like a doodle) that I did rn.

I'm supposed to make a comic based on Charlie's lvl 10 friendship reward and I did this monstrosity

Look at Maya with Charlie's hairstyle. And yes, Charlie did the hairstyle himself.

He also likes the feeling of Maya's long, soft and silky silver hair yes....

#maya bell avery #charlie weasley #charlie x maya #hogwarts mystery oc #charlie x jacob's sibling #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #Charlie's lvl 10 friendship reward inspiration #colored doodle #goodnight

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katherinewilliams221b · 6 months

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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

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#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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