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katherinewilliams221b · 7 months

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Our Time To Bloom

Chapter 7: The Serch Bythol

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Summary: Two months after the war, the couple is more distant than ever. Kate accompanies her grandfather on a trip to Ireland, where her past and present will collide in unexpected ways. Charlie stays in Romania with a decision to make: will he follow her and uncover all unsaid things? Romance/Drama /Mystery

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship

7th, July, 1998

Hours later, after dropping off Kate at the station, Charlie perched himself against a wooden fence at the dragon sanctuary. Lost in thought, he observed as Soule, an older Romanian Longhorn, stretched its wings in the air. The dragon flew in circles, pirouetting through the clouds with the bravest birds joining in its dance.

What a coward you have been, mate, not to join in. And what a fool! You wanted to go! You still do... Bernard has both great humour and profound wisdom, maybe he was the right person to talk to. If you want to talk... Simply trying to pronounce Fred’s name out loud makes your throat close up.

Soule walked past the Sun creating his silhouette in the wind for an instant.

A twinge in his knee made him hiss, and suddenly the smell of smoke invaded his nostrils.

‘It’s normal in the sanctuary,’ he reminded himself, but he couldn’t help but find himself on Hogwarts’ ground, lying on the stones and feeling that same smell.

He clung tightly to the fence, unable to move. The image of the man appearing out of the fire, distorted, only his silhouette visible when lit from behind, slipped into his mind without permission. He had hit him in the knee, fortunately, but at that moment, helpless on the ground, he knew the stranger would not miss a second time.

He struggled to steady his breathing and with difficulty set his sights on the mountains in the distance. He imagined waterfalls and rivers, crystal-clear lakes and the reflection of clouds in their waters, paths overlooking the valley, patches of flowering bushes.

He managed to shake off the vision of his near-death by trying to imagine himself flying, soaring through the skies on a dragon. With the wind in his face and breathing clean air, seeing the world disappearing and getting smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller...

“You’re making my dragons nervous...”

A light tap on the shoulder accompanied the voice, which was just enough to make Charlie flinch and turn away from Sonia, bringing his hand to his hip unconsciously reaching for his wand.

“Sorry.” She said with sincerity in her eyes before leaning against the fence.

Charlie brought his hand to his hair, briefly massaging his head and undoing the small ponytail he wore. He leaned back against the wood next to his group leader.

They both stood in silence for a while, just watching the sky. Charlie’s heart started beating normally again, and he was able to take a deep breath. Still, he brought his hand to his opposite arm and started stroking his inner elbow with his thumb.

“Nervous?” Sonia asked without looking at him. “The lists go out the day after tomorrow.” She added at the look she saw out of the corner of her eye.

“A little.”

“The grant is yours, I have no doubt. And Razvan’s too. You are both very capable.” She said with a small smile.

“We’ll see if the folks at Apuseni feel the same way.”

“I’m sure they will.”

Absently, Charlie continued to make circles on his skin.

“Cool tat,” Sonia commented, looking at the pale skin on his arm. “I haven’t seen it on you before.”

“Oh...” He pulled his hand away to reveal the symbol he wore inked in black. “We only got it done last year...”

Sonia raised her eyebrows.

“Kate and I.”

“Damn. That’s bold. I don’t think I could get matching tattoos with a boyfriend. It’s usually contraindicated.” She laughed, coaxing a small smile from Charlie.

“Yeah, well, they’re not permanent. The guy who did it to us can take them off, too.” It dawned on Charlie that this was the first time anyone had noticed the symbol he was wearing, and that no one but Kate knew of its existence. Not even Razvan.

He moved a little closer to her, extending his left arm so she could see better, and began to follow the lines with his pinky.

“It is, in theory, a Celtic symbol made of two Trinity knots flipped to the side and fused together.” He traced the intricate lines from the horizontally pointing tips to the central circle. “The three points of the knots represent the soul: mind, body and spirit, as well as the circle of life. The two knots maintain their individuality, but when intertwined, they create a perfect circle, symbolising the endless unity between two souls.” He recited as he had been told. He focused on the dragons again, less solemn, remembering with a smile the tale they were told when that man was tattooing Kate.

“It’s really just one interpretation, there’s no factual information about it that we know,” he chuckled" but we loved that story so much we adopted it as our own."

When Sonia didn’t comment on it, he kept going,

“It’s called a Serch Bythol. In Celtic Welsh language, serk means Love, and beeth-ohl means everlasting.”

“I wouldn’t have imagined in a million years that you two were corny as hell!” They shared a laugh at her teasing. Charlie was grateful that she took the weight out of his words.

“Oh, come on, be easy on me, boss, I’m opening my heart for you here.” He said half-joking.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They chuckled again, watching as Soule landed on a tree. “I don’t suppose you got it one night completely smashed in some dude’s basemen…”

“No! Of course not!” He laughed.

“Right…”

“No, we…” he tapped it again absent-mindedly, “it was purely for practical reasons, I assure you.”

He stared at the black ink, praying for it to stay black.

“When the other is in danger, it glows red.”

A look of understanding erased the smirk on Sonia’s eyes. She avoided his stare, focusing on the landscape ahead.

“I always wondered how you knew… That you had to leave Romania that day.”

It scared me so much, the way it burned, he thought. I didn’t know where she was until I received her letter. It didn’t have an envelope or a seal. I couldn’t even recognise her handwriting.

He nodded.

A moment of silence passed between them and left Charlie contemplating his future, his plans. Seeing Soule come down from the sky to take a nap by the rocks made him realise he wasn't meant for anything else. This was the life he hoped for in his teens, and the life he wanted to cultivate. If not dragons, what else? But did it need to be in Romania?

These mountains were his dream since he was a child and he was comfortable here, perhaps too much. He wondered if leaving this place, this group of people he could now call friends would feel like a betrayal. To them and himself.

But then he thought of her.

She had worked as hard as him to get into St Mungo’s hospital as a mere apprentice. And she left for him. To follow him here. She got far as a healer in Bucharest’s hospital. And she left for a cause she believed in. She had been offered a position as a herbology teacher once. And she declined for the same reason.

Maybe it was time to return the favour.

Perhaps, after the Apuseni program, if he was chosen to go, it could be the last thing Romania could offer him and that dream he had as a child wasn’t the end of the line but the beginning.

Before the war, they hadn’t discussed much about their plans for a future away from this place, they both had secure positions, a home and they were content with that. He never dared to dream further from that.

Then the war happened, and they were forced to do things they never imagined they could be capable of. And that tranquil life they had shattered along with their possibilities.

Now that it was over, he thought, after everything that they went through, it was time for new dreams.

Kate was in the picture, he used to be sure of it. Now, he hoped.

“Sonia…”

“Hm?” She began putting on her fireproof gloves.

“May I get… some time off?”

The dragon tamer stared at him with an unreadable expression. She seemed to be registering his question as confusion appeared on her face.

“You shouldn’t. Not right before the program starts.”

“After that, it may be too late.” She kept silent and continued to secure her gear. “I think,” he insisted, “I could catch up later, I’m sure. I’m a fast learner. Two weeks tops.”

“Two weeks!”

“Sonia, please. I never take breaks, you know this. I never even quit when all of that happened,” he added, referring to the war. She sighed.

“I know. I just don’t want you to lose this opportunity.”

“I won’t.”

She thought for a moment and then clicked her tongue. “At least stay until the first day.”

“Of course!”

“Hey!”

Both dragonologists turned at the sound of Razvan’s voice, who flew towards them with a frown.

“Am I the only one who works around here or what? We’re supposed to start the scouting in three minutes!”

“Yes,” Sonia added with a nod towards Charlie, “let’s go.”

Muddy and sweaty, Charlie apparated in front of his house after an afternoon in the forest. He took off his boots before entering the cabin and made his way to the bathroom for a warm and much needed shower.

After cleaning himself, he stepped out of the bathtub in time to hear scratches on the other side of the door.

“Just wait a moment, Grimoire!”

Charlie imagined the condescending expression of Kate’s cat as it sat in their bedroom.

He opened the door with a towel around his hips just so the animal would stop the assault at the door.

“When Kate’s not here, you become an insufferable pain in the ass.” He accused, changing into a shirt and tracksuit bottoms. Grimoire mewled, clearly letting him know that the sentiment was mutual.

After satiating both appetites, Charlie left the cabin and, using a ladder, checked the rooftop for any sign of Whiskey.

He found the owl sound asleep in the small wooden house he had built for him. The redhead frowned and checked his watch. It was late.

While climbing down, he reminded himself that it meant nothing that Kate hadn’t sent a letter. She was probably having fun with her grandpa. Right?

“Yes. She arrived safe and sound.” He said to Grimoire as he entered again.

He made his way to the kitchen counters, hoping that the routine of putting a kettle on would calm his nerves. He instantly felt better as soon as the tea touched his lips, but the nervousness of what would he say to her and, most importantly, how would she react to seeing him there, remained.

Stopping the spiralling train of thought, he gasped.

Her birthday!

He used to be more thoughtful than that, he thought, but the stress of the war and going back to tons of work at the reserve had left him with no energy to think about presents.

The incorporation to the Apuseni program, if that ever happened, would leave him no time to search for something appropriate. He only had tomorrow to figure it out.

Against all odds and without warning, Grimoire jumped on the seat next to him and, tentatively, rested his head on Charlie’s thigh.

“I know,” he sighed, scratching behind the cat’s ear, “I miss her too. You’ll be fine here on your own? I guess you must. Razvan will come, you know him, to check on you.”

He paused, sipping his tea.

“I don’t even know where to start with her…”

He would get to… Cobh? But where exactly? And even if he found her, how would he manage to put in order the things he should say?

Eyeing the coffee table, he saw some random papers scattered around. With a flick of the wrist, a quill and inkwell floated towards him as he set the cup down. With a determined breath, he started writing.

My dearest,

I don’t know if I will have the courage to show you this letter. Maybe I’ll burn it after I’m finished, maybe I will hide it until I’m ready, or maybe I will be able to speak my mind to your face. You deserve as much, and so much more.

My heart stings every time I come home at night. I watch the lights on the tower where you hide from me and I feel as a failure for not being able to reach you. You’ve closed your mind, only to me? Do I hurt you so that you’ve kept your thoughts to yourself?

I talk to Razvan sometimes, about you and I, about what happened, about Fred if my voice doesn’t betray me. He listens, he tries, and I’m grateful to have found a little solace in his friendship, but he is not the person I burn to reconnect with again.

I miss my best friend, my companion.

Is it because I remind you of your own brother, Jacob, that you can’t find it in your heart to speak to me?

I hear you cry some nights. I know about your nightmares. Often I hold you, selfishly hoping you will wake and hug me back. I don’t know what haunts your dreams, I can imagine, but it feels strange in my stomach that you can’t trust me how you used to.

I guess I’ve been guilty of that too, but for different reasons. There is no one else I would trust with my life but you, but I’m afraid I’ve become a burden to you. I find it difficult to know where I stand, where the limits are, how I should act around you.

But I’ve learnt today, the hard way, after seeing you part from me for the umpteenth time and after observing the creatures that roam these mountains, that my approach has been completely off.

You are not a dragon. Never have been and never will. They come and go or they don’t, they can fly, spit fire, the most absolute chaos can burst in any second, destroying everything around them. To be on good terms with them again, you need to sit still and wait. Make yourself as little of a threat as possible.

But you, my love, you are a feline, and cats can sense when one is not confident enough to handle them. So they scurry away. A change of attitude it’s what’s needed or you’ll just see their tails as they leave the room.

All of this to say I hope you will forgive me.

Once I told you, as you lay in my arms, I whispered to you it would be only fair to follow where you lead.

And now I intend to keep my promise, because it was one, whether you know it or not.

Although I should have been quicker to say it,

I accept your offer, if you’ll have me, and I’ll reunite with you in Ireland if I manage to find where you are.

If after these weeks you still seek a life away from here without me, at least I’ll know that my last decision regarding you wasn’t a disappointment or one that I’ll regret.

But for all it’s worth, I want to start dreaming with you again.

With all the love I can possibly keep in my heart,

Charlie.

Before folding the letter, and with utmost care, he drew with his quill a Serch Bythol at the end of the page, hoping she would understand the meaning behind it.

His heart felt lighter, somehow, having put into words his intentions and motives and, he realised as he lifted the quill, that he hoped for her to read it. When the envelope was closed, he placed a kiss on it.

With Grimoire’s head resting on his thigh and a steaming cup in hand, he stared out of the window, watching the trees sway with the wind. He took a deep breath and enjoyed for the first time in months a quiet afternoon in solitude.

A/N. A short one but very much needed, if anyone still cares :) It’s hard writing these days

Next chapter >

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley x ofc #charlie weasley x kate williams #ottb #our time to bloom

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front-facing-pokemon · 10 months

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#spinda #AAAHHHH YES!!! our belovèd spinda. from their café!!! probably one of my favorite minor characters from pmd sky #whom i don't even think was in the original explorers games. i think spinda's café was exclusive to sky. if i'm remembering correct #ly. or maybe that was shaymin village. i know shaymin village was for sure but maybe it was just that and not both of them. either way #have a delicious drink and allow the flower of conversation to bloom! i could quote spinda all day. he had “hopes and dreams” before toby #ever did. THAT'S ALSO like i had no idea what spinda's pronouns were. i kept trying to figure it out because i talked about him quite a lot‚#but no one in game ever talked about him. to mention his pronouns? turns out. there's ONE line of dialogue where the post office fucker in #shaymin village mentions him and calls him a he. i think that's the only time spinda is referred to in the third person with a pronoun #i believe it's when they're talking about like. how you can send gifts or whatever and pick up the characters' responses at spinda's café #which is still a really fucking good feature. of any video game. SEE WHAT I MEAN spinda and their café is just an incredibly good Thing #it's to the point where my home wifi network is named “Spinda's Café Wi-Fi” because i love it so much. so if you're ever runnin around #and you see a wifi network by that name… it might be me! you never know! or… it could be the real deal. the real spinda's café is somewhere #nearby…! ugh. i wish. i would go there immediately #not even to mention all the other shit about this pokémon that's really good. like that they never walk in straight lines or whatever #their little dance. it's just. huUGHKLJKAHJVDHJHDAJSVGD i love spinda. a nice pick-me-up after the underwhelmingness that was grumpig #shake it this way… shake it that way… and stir it all around… and it's done!

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trustiskingandqueen · 1 month

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I just wanna be with you I don't care about anything else You can be honest with me tooMayb e I want the same thing as you

I don't think it's difficult I just need to get to know you slowly You'll get used to it soon, you and me The feeling of being one - It will be sweet

sweet & easy - wonder girls

#i'll never understand tumblr images. every time its different . it's a magical mystery #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd edit #our flag means death edit #gentlebeard #ed x stede #blackbonnet #every time i listen to sweet & easy it gives me such Them vibes! summertime! sweet fruits! a new bloom of a relationship!#sweet sweet sweet and easy #my stuff #idk what i was going for with the color scheme #just playing around #stede bonnet #edward teach

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respectthepetty · 2 months

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Plant Daddies stand up!

If he ain't taking care of your plants, does he even love you?!

Taking care of plants is a love language for men who never got enough love when they younger. It's seeing something tangible come from their patience and tender touch. It's seeing something grow and bloom because they learned to care for something in ways they were never cared for in a low stakes, no pressure situation.

It's about love.

Give me a boy with his plants, and I'll show you his heart.

#unknown #unknown the series #manner of death #our dating sim #kinnporsche #this is about vegas #because he was a plant daddy #boys who have a hard time loving #will learn through plants #plants won't abandon them #they won't hurt them #but they will bloom with their care #and that's important to people who are afraid to care #and believe their love will harm others #since that is what they were taught #vegas was the ultimate plant daddy!#and y'all can argue with the wall if you don't agree

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eyrieofsynapses · 1 year

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good evening, all. it is May the 25th. our lilacs are blooming, just as the ones at the Watch House did. and I am thinking about remembrance of the fallen, and GNU, and the love in commemoration.

y'know, I read Night Watch… oh, maybe a year ago and some months ago. and the lilac symbolism, the remembrance of the Watch, has always struck me with the depth of the emotion of it, the tangibility of it in the flowers. but I wasn't aware that today was the day until I saw commemorative posts, all that gorgeous artwork and more, on my dash.

I was also not aware, until now, that fans commemorated the day not only because of the book reference, but in support of Terry Pratchett and of those with Alzheimer's. which knocked me over a bit because of course, of course the group that would use GNU to honor him would do that. and… I've been thinking about GNU a lot, lately, and this caught me again.

I read Going Postal a bit ago, and reread it recently. both times, the parts about GNU made me tear up. this idea of the names, the memories, the lives of the clacks workers who dedicated themselves to ensuring that people heard each other's voices—all those names spoken again and again and again by that which they poured their souls into, winging along in the air as they could not, an eternal reminder that they were loved—how could that not touch a person's heart?

when I found out that fans online used it to memorialize him, I damn well cried. hell, I still tear up just thinking about it. do you know, there's a code for an HTTP header "X-Clacks-Overhead: GNU Terry Pratchett" written by Reddit users to put in webpages, where it goes unseen by the average user? and in 2015, when Netcraft took a survey, there were eighty-four thousand websites using it? it's eight years later—how many thousands upon thousands of websites have this now, do you think? how many little cables of light has his name flown along, now? how many times?

that alone is absurdly and unimaginably lovely in its own right, but… there's something else to it. there's something about remembering with the lilac sprigs every year, just as Vimes and those who were there remembered their dead. something about how, when we take up our lilac sprigs, we carry a little piece of the characters in our hearts, too. I kept trying to put my finger on why that makes me tear up the way it does. the conclusion I came to is this:

what greater way to honor a writer is there, but to honor them the way they did the characters they poured their heart and soul into? what better way to say we know you and you are not forgotten and your work and words and gifts to the world are held in our hearts forever than to remember them by their own words, their own vision? how else could we say you embodied all the good you believed in and wished to see in the world, but to memorialize them after the little pieces of their soul they wrapped in ink and put upon the page?

it is a knowing of the writer, to remember them in their way. it is not a worn-out faceless platitude, but a reminder that their work has been read and will continue to be, that the characters and world they loved enough to bring to life last just as their name does. such remembrance is warm and loving and delights in their memory even as it grieves.

and now Pratchett's name has been written in his tradition, over and over and over, across the vast plane of the Internet, where it will—with any luck—continue to fly for generations to come.

there is no way to truly express the beauty of that… but perhaps we can catch a glimpse of it in the lilacs, both ours and the Watch's.

#the glorious 25th of may #night watch #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #I cannot express how much I love that our lilacs bloom at the same time as they do in the books #also I dearly wanted to include this little fact in my accidental monologue but it didn't fit. so in the tags it goes:#GNU Terry Pratchett is ALSO a Minecraft splash text #which is just. aaaaaaaaaaah of course a game with something like the End Poem would do that but aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah #I have many feelings on this and a decent summary of a lot of them is about the beauty of how humanity remembers and loves our dead #and also just... the love. the love that can be held for someone you never met #but whose writing and words can pierce your heart in the best of ways #and the love for characters--for the best of them are these little shards of the writer's soul that they decided to share #because that's really the nature of writing. baring your soul and your self to others in those persons you breathe to life on the page #and then sharing it with others just in hopes that it might ring true and inspire them #give them insight #help them in ways no one else could because only YOU could write that character and share that part of yourself #and by gods if Pratchett isn't among the best at that then I don't know who is #anyway. I have feelings and I accidentally turned them into a monologue whoo #have a good evening all

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otomes-and-tears · 1 year

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Are you looking for a community to meet fellow otome and visual novel enthusiasts? Well, look no further then Otome’s little corner ♡

We’re a small discord server dedicated to otome games, with special channels dedicated to books, writing, art and game recommendations!

♡ Our community has individual channels for the following games: ♡

♛My Candy Love

♛Eldarya

♛Moonlight Lovers

♛Mystic Messenger

♛ Sweet Elite

♛ Nix Hydra (RIP)

♛ Blooming Panic

♛ Our Life

...As well as chats for french, spanish and portuguese speakers and a dedicated chats for NSFW content!

Join us today!

https://discord.com/invite/xCjCGVXSQH

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kllrwhale · 2 years

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__beanandbear__

#u #flowers #user: __beanandbear__#caption: ‘We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses blooming outside our windows #cont: today.’ - Dale Carnegie Happy midweek from the enchanting fifteenth-century Great Chalfield Manor and Garden. This beautiful #cont: medieval manor sits in the tranquil Wiltshire countryside. If you’re a lover of roses this place is a must see especially this time #cont: of year 🥰🌹 Hope you’re having a great week so far 💕#visitengland #beautifulmatters #photosofengland #ig_countryside #capturingbritain #scenicbritain #englishcountryside #magicalwild #quietinthewild #englishgarden #cinematicphotography #doortomywonderland #romanticacademia #roses #escapetothecountry #cottagecoredream #cottagecoreaesthetic #cottagecore #rosegarden #ofquietmoments #romanticstyle #ofwhimsicalmoments #embracingtheseasons

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oyasuminto · 5 months

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Match ups sound fun! Why is everyone on anon tho not judging just wondering.

So, my love language is gift giving and quality time. What can I say I like to spoil the ones I care about? I would like Canon and his age to be in mid 20's. I'm a chaotic neutral who gets way to caught up in my hyperfixations and rambles about them. I like listening to music so loud my eardrums are put at risk and true crime podcasts at 2:35 am.

This feels like a pretty easy one!

I'm pairing you wiiiiiiith

nightowl!

You are totally his type! I can see quality time being one of nightowl's love languages, just spending time in the same space, engaging in your own hobbies. Maybe you're flopped on top of each other like a pair of cats.

nightowl is all too familiar with the feeling of getting swept up in his passions, sometimes to the detriment of his own health. He's more than happy to hear all about your hyperfixations, so long as you're willing to hear an impassioned essay about the difference between gargoyles and grotesques.

He's definitely a true crime hoe, too. Catch him patrolling the house all scared in the middle of the night because he listened to a bunch of podcasts back to back and now needs to protect you from an ooky spooky murderer that's totally wandering the halls.

You and he will be getting a few noise complaints for blasting your music way too loud, perhaps also some concern for your hearing, too.

#Not Writing #Blooming Panic #BP nightowl #Match Ups #Minors Do Not Interact #crawls back in here after a prolonged hiatus #h.....hewwo #i am back on my meds and very energetic lately #but also our internet is shit so i am spending so much time just cleaning #here's hoping i can channel that energy back into this blog again baybeeeee!!!!

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seawherethesunsets · 1 year

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OUR BLOOMING YOUTH (2023)

#our blooming youth #kdramaedit #kdramadaily #asiandramanet #userdramas #dailyasiandramas #perioddramaedit #kdrama #bysya #obyedit #ep 12 #he's so sweet tho #like he just treats her nicely since she's the one cp trusts and so she is his people too #idk what's gonna happen when he finds out the truth #but him being super loyal to the cp he'd probably cherish the friendship more #it's time for me to sleep bye it's 3am lol

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marymekpop · 1 year

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⟢ highlight of the hour: our blooming youth [13/20] ⟣

lean on me

#our blooming youth #korean drama #park hyungsik #jeon sonee #mygif #obyhoth #mmkfav #i luv how these 2 confess to each other almost single ep #they just cant stop confessing to each other its great #i also luv when the 2 bond over cp's brother #its like cp lets jaeyi into his world every time he talks to her about his brother #just goes to show how close and intimate they are #and also how much cp trusts jaeyi #MY HEART ;___;#i luv how inspired cp is becus of his brother #hes going to make a great king and he'll have jaeyi there every step of the way!!#i LUV THIS LUV STORY!!

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katherinewilliams221b · 8 months

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Our Time To Bloom

Chapter 6: The Secret Garden Inn

<Previous Chapter - All Chapters - Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship

7th, July 1998

On a darkened corner of the tiled hallways of the Ministry, the travelling group started to dissipate. Kate found herself stuck in place, watching the frantic coming and going of wizards and witches.

One of the first things Kingsley Shacklebolt did as a new minister of Magic was opening the doors of the ministry. A decision that was praised by some and feared by others, for it was done only weeks after the war ended.

Kate eyed the increased amount of aurors in every nook, instinctively looking for the easiest escaping route; there were nine aurors near the central fountain, two at every fireplace, one for each lift.

“Miss, please, move out of the way.” An auror touched her elbow from behind and she flinched away, stepping out of his way.

She curled her fingers towards her inner wrist, checking her wand, and made her way towards one lift.

Squeezed between wizards, Kate appeared inside a telephone cabin in London. She instantly brought a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the light.

Across the street, a man and a woman stared at the cabin. To muggles and untrained eyes they could appear as tourists, but Kate recognised the aurors in them.

Once outside, she walked towards the street corner and leaned on the building’s stone. She let her thoughts wander to Charlie again, wondering why he hadn’t accepted her offer. For months she had given him the space he sought, worrying about his silence regarding his brother. She could understand. Merlin, she could, why wouldn’t he open up about it? Since when have they guarded their thoughts like that? You know since when, she thought to herself.

The glass of a showcase in front of her returned her reflection: her hair almost reached her waist now, it had long lost its curliness, leaving muted brown waves instead. She wore simple clothing that day, a loose white shirt tucked inside blue jeans and her old boots. She tapped one against the pavement, avoiding looking at her tired expression.

Not even five minutes passed when she saw a familiar figure strolling in her direction. Her grandfather, Bernard, was a round and short man, with red cheeks and smirking grey eyes. Kate smiled as he approached only carrying a small satchel and an umbrella on his back, anchored with a leather belt across his chest.

“A stór!” His smile grew, and he opened his arms as he walked. Kate pushed herself away from the wall and hopped towards him, accepting his embrace immediately.

She felt him tightening his grip and she let herself relax against him, the faint scent of his cologne washed away her preoccupations.

“Let me look at you.” He took off his glasses, letting them hang from the chain around his neck, and inspected her face with a frown. “How have you been?”

Kate swallowed and forced a smile, placing her hands on his arms to reassure him.

“Better.” She lied. “How are we going to Cobh?”

Bernard squinted almost imperceptibly and Kate knew he noticed the change of topic. He then scanned her belongings and then their surroundings, a light frown appeared again between his brows.

“Ah,” he said with a lighter tone. “Follow me.”

After preventing Bernard from carrying her luggage, Kate followed her grandfather toward a less than frequented alley. Once he had made sure no one was around, he extended his hand to her.

She stared at it for a second and sighed.

“Just one more time. Some portkeys have been cancelled.”

Kate held his hand, resigned, and closed her eyes. For the second time that day, her stomach spiralled, and she disappeared through the void.

Clouded skies and a strong wind greeted them; Kate and Bernard apparated in front of a stone building, a big clock decorated its central tower and three heavy-looking doors stood before them.

Kate squinted and brought her hand to her throat, protecting herself from the wind as best as she could. She turned around and observed the river that split the city. There were several people crossing the bridges or just taking a walk near the water. No one seemed to have paid attention to them.

After one last glance at Cork behind her, she followed Bernard towards the wooden door in the middle.

He patted her hand, “We will have time to explore to your heart’s content. But first…”

The gates opened to reveal a grandiose interior; tall columns separated ostentatious wooden desks, redirecting any visitor’s gaze to the dome’s glass ceiling. A seemingly innocent chandelier hovered above the space scattering rays of light around.

Upon close inspection, Kate noticed an erratic shift caused by the individual movements of the crystal beads. At the end of each ray of light, a letter, a document, or a folder floated to a certain direction to be delivered, and the light was scattered again.

Still walking, Kate heard her grandpa’s voice a second too late and slammed her body against the front desk.

Bernard’s roaring laugh echoed in her ears. She brought her hand to her forehead, massaging slightly and avoiding at all costs eye contact with the figure appearing behind the desk.

Staring at her from above, a silver-haired man with dark olive skin and black eyes waited as she composed herself. A perfectly trimmed eyebrow raised at the display, not without, Kate noticed, a hint of amusement in their expression.

“Not a word.” She warned Bernard. He in return zipped his lips with his thumb and index finger, not bothering to hide his smirk. However, he touched her elbow with gentleness and placed a small pouch in her hand.

“Why don’t you change these for muggle coin, hm? I’ll find you when I’m finished.”

When the transaction was done, Kate searched for a comfortable spot to wait for Bernard and decided on a bench against a wall where she had sight of the main door, her grandfather and most of the back doors leading to other chambers. When the space started to get crowded, she instinctively brought her finger to her inner wrist.

She observed Bernard handing an envelope to a young goblin before walking towards her.

“All done,” he started with a smile and checked his pocket watch, “Now, to catch a train!”

“No more apparitions?”

“No more, A stór.”

Kate managed to relax slightly, and with a smile of her own they marched towards a door in the back.

The gate opened, revealing a blueish veil. Bernard crossed first, and Kate followed with unwavering trust. They appeared on a covered train station and they made their way to buy their tickets.

“There is so much water on the route to Cobh that the line runs across not one but two causeways!” Bernard informed her with enthusiasm while waiting in line.

Kate smiled brightly, genuinely, at her grandfather and listened to his relaxing voice describe the sights they would see on the way.

Despite Bernard’s energetic personality, she noticed the slight agitation of his breathing and the way he unhooked his umbrella to use it as a cane.

“First stop will be Little Island! And then Glounthaune, followed by Fota, which we will be going to visit in a few days. You liking all the plants and such, you must step on the gardens, yes. Then there’s Carrigaloe and Rushbrook and finally Cobh. Half an hour!”

As she listened, she walked them to the closest bench. Bernard sat down with a content sigh.

“I’m very happy you came,” Bernard said sincerely.

Kate sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him pat her knee.

“And I’m very happy you invited me.”

Kate looked out of the window, observing the green landscape pass at high speed alongside the river. At some point, yellow and green fences impeded the view and signalled the stop at Fota Wildlife Park. She turned to Bernard, who sat in front of her with a newspaper, with a smile of recognition. To her surprise, her grandfather was assessing her with worry.

“What?” she asked in a hushed voice. She knew what he was going to say, they couldn’t ignore the hippogriff in the room any longer.

“I’ve noticed… That redhead of yours owes me an explanation, he does! Here I am, expecting to see him after all this time,”he continued with a light tone" and he decides that having a job is more important than a trip with his partner’s grandfather?"

Kate avoided his gaze to watch the river again. However, a small, breathy laugh escaped her. She thanked him, in silence, for not asking and for at least trying to lighten her sour mood. He surely didn’t deserve her melancholy. Making up her mind, she placed all her thoughts about Charlie on a small little box in her brain and looked at Bernard again.

“We are going to have fun, you and I.”

The smile that bloomed on the elder’s face remained there for the rest of the trip.

“That,” Bernard announced, turning back towards a brick building after getting off the train, “is what remains of the original station.”

“Now it’s a heritage centre,” Kate observed. Bernard’s expression turned more sombre, and remained pensive, watching the building and the extension of the Port of Cobh while clutching his umbrella.

“Yes, they explain the history of the quayside, from which people emigrated or were forcibly transported to the colonies. Come with me, I found a lovely bed-and-breakfast to stay that I think you’ll enjoy.”

“I know very little of the time you left…” Kate tried. She reminded herself to be patient, to be careful around the stories about her grandparents’ lives in Ireland. “or how.”

To her surprise, Bernard took a solemn breath and smiled at her as they walked.

“It was 1945. And I do remember the exact date, oh yes. Muggles and wizards were at war, both with themselves and each other. It was known… that a Grindelwald’s, you know the man, do you? That a Grindelwald’s supporters group had settled in the area. One day I found my home painted with a message; ‘blood traitors you are next’.

“Because grandma was a muggle?” Kate gasped.

“Among other things.”

Bernard fell silent for a moment, contemplating the sea at their left.

“I panicked. I grabbed your gran and left in a rush. Heading to America.”

Kate’s brows jumped to her hairline, but remained quiet.

“We ended up in Milford Haven. Wales!” he chuckled at Kate’s wide-open eyes. “A misunderstanding that probably saved our lives.”

He looked at her over his glasses, wearing the smirk of a storyteller. He raised a finger,

“On that boat, Julie told me she was with child. Your mam. We went to Cardiff, Merlin knows how, gaining some sickles selling potions on the road, if, and only if we happened to encounter another wizard.”

“You can tell?”

“Oh, yes.” He smirked.

“And then?” Fully invested in the story, Kate struggled to look ahead, wanting to keep her attention on Bernard.

“We settled there until Julie had the babe. Not long after, I heard someone say at the wizarding neighbourhood that a potioneer in Bristol was looking for an assistant. So I sailed again! All by myself, and managed to convince the poor fellow to hire me. I found a place to stay, the best I could afford that wasn’t filled with doxys and Merlin knows what, and sent a letter to your gran. Let me tell you something, muggle post service is embarrassingly slow compared to owls.”

“So she travelled alone with Mama there?”

“She did so, she did.”

“And how did you end up in Stanton then? Where you live now.”

“We stayed in Bristol for a year or so because your gran, as brilliant as she was having a little, how would you say? A little twitching on her fingers, as a manner of speaking, because she wanted to study! We moved to Oxford, then, for her to train. She had a bit of practice with voluntary work at Cobh, so she had all that figured out in a blink.”

They moved to the stone wall to their left, silently letting a cyclist pass them, and resumed their stroll a few minutes more.

“And then your aunt arrived. With two babes and our salaries, part in muggle coin and part in galleons, we couldn’t really afford to live in Oxford. So while Julie finished her training, I travelled around a bit with your mam and auntie and found Stanton! It was small, quiet, and they needed someone with medical experience in town.”

Kate laughed at this, she knew that story. Her grandma was a nurse, but Stanton had no hospital and less than a hundred people living there, so she had been, for a while, ‘The Doc’.

“Here we are.”

Bernard pointed at a white hanging sign in the shape of a house that said, in blue letters,

The Secret Garden Inn

B&B

Bernard opened a small wooden gate for her and walked after her through the gravel path. A three-storey house revealed itself as they advanced, hidden among the trees and abundant vegetation. The garden was well kept, full of blooming flowers whose scent reached Kate’s nose.

The building was bigger than Kate expected for a Bed and breakfast; it was white, with plenty of windows in every corner, a sun-room on one side, and part of the second floor had a wide terrace.

“But grandpa! This is a mansion!”

They shared a chuckle, and after a knock on the door, they entered the building.

The interior was an elegant mix of antique furniture and modern brightness, it was clear that it had been remodelled.

The first thing they encountered was a desk facing them, an older woman, around Bernard’s age, talked in hushed voices on the phone while staring at a computer screen.

She had her hair short, elegantly dyed to a dark brown; her skin had a pale rosy tone, with wrinkles adorning her mouth and jaw and a slightly hooked nosed held a pair of black glasses.

“Ah, but don’t be talking to me like that, lad. Just tell me how to change the colour of the… cells… yes, that.” The woman took a glance at a thick book on her right before typing on the keyboard, the phone trapped between her ear and shoulder. “Eric, phone me in the afternoon, will you? Yes. Yes, bye bye. Bye bye, dear.”

“Good day!” Bernard announced after she hung up.

“Oh, but please be welcome. How can I assist you?”

“We had two rooms reserved under the name of Bernard. That would be me.”

Both Kate and the woman chuckled at the clarification

“I figured as much! That’s no face for a Bernard,” he said, pointing at Kate and standing up. "Perhaps an Arthur or a Phineas suit you better. Come with me, I’ll show you around.”

The woman, named Áine, showed them to their modest rooms on the second floor. Bernard had insisted on her having the room with the double bed, and Kate had only accepted because her grandfather would then have the ocean view.

“That door is off limits, since it leads to the private part of the house.” Áine informed them when they reached the ground floor again. She pointed behind the stairs."Next to it, the kitchen, also off limits."

Bernard nodded, and with his hands clasped behind him, made his way towards the spacious living room. The fireplace was the focus of attention, plenty of photographs and trinkets adorned the mantel and ceiling-high bookshelves guarded each side.

“Feel free to come here as you please to read or play. There are cards and chess, and you can ask for a cup o’ tea at any time if…,” she looked around, “well, she is not here at the moment…”

Kate wandered towards the back of the room; to her left she could glimpse a dining room but what caught her attention was the sight through a window.

“Ah!” Áine announced, "and this way is the reason behind the name of the inn."

The three of them crossed the door that lead to an enclosed garden. The bushes and flowers blocked the view of the street, giving the space privacy and some sense of isolation. A big tree stood proudly right in the middle, giving shade to the centre part of the grass. Some string lights could be seen hanging from the branches, and Kate couldn’t wait to see it at night.

“Here are your keys, Bernard and…”

“Kate.”

“Kate, then. Feel free to come and go as you wish, at a reasonable volume. We close the front door at nine, here’s the key. Just in case you find yourselves discovering Cobh at night. Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven to nine. And with that,” she smiled and clasped her hands, “I hope you have a lovely stay.”

After settling in their rooms and accepting the tea Áine had offered, they spent most of the day strolling along the shore, admiring the colourful houses and the different street nooks that looked like they had come out of a storybook. At some point, Kate’s stomach protested, and they made a strategic stop to replenish strength.

“Cobh is probably best known for being the ‘last port of call’ to the ill-fated RMS Titanic who on 11 April 1912, berthed at Queenstown, before she set out across the Atlantic on the last leg of her maiden voyage.[1],” Kate read as they ate on a small tourist book Áine had gifted her. “Do you remember that?” she asked with a teasing smirk.

“For Merlin’s sake, lass, how old do you think I am?”

After Bernard had declared he didn’t have the energy to climb the steep roads to the cathedral and the centre part of the town, they resumed their peaceful walk on the coastline.

“Come here, a stór. See.” With a shaky finger, he pointed at an orange building, right between a bar and a gift shop. It read: P. Donegan and Co. Solicitors.

“Who are they?”

“No clue. That… that was your gran’s house.”

Kate let out a breath. She tried to imagine how it would have looked like before or how she would have looked like as a child. She knew her great grandfather was a fisherman, a sailor, and her great grandmother sold the fish in the market. Or at least they were until the incident.

“It was right over there,” Bernard pointed at the port, “the market. Where that parking is now.” He sighed, lost in thought, and before Kate could reach out to grab his hand, Bernard composed himself. “Ice cream?”

Kate nodded, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that her granny had a life there, on the stones she was stepping on, one that her grandfather was doing his best to show her. After a while, they sat on a bench looking at the sea in comfortable silence, only surrounded by the sound of people, birds, boats and a distant guitar of a street performer.

A dumb idea occurred to her when she saw a tissue on the asphalt about to fall over to the water.

Wingardium Leviosa

She repeated it over and over, focusing on the vision of the tissue flying above the ground. She kept staring at it, brows furrowing and lips pursing.

Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa!

“Kate.”

She turned to Bernard for a second, startled, and then to the place the tissue was being stepped on by some tourists. Kate sighed.

Bernard touched two fingers to her arm gently. “Since when?”

“Since we left Hogwarts’ ruins.” Her lips trembled, and he hummed.

“Can you do magic with a wand?”

“No. Nothing you are about to ask me I can do.”

Bernard nodded as he patted her knee with reassurance, but said nothing else. Kate grazed her eye with a knuckle, not wanting to have a meltdown right in front of him and ruining the lovely day they were having. She pushed her attempt at magic to the side and focused on the repetitive task two men were performing as they moved wooden crates out of a boat until the sun started to set.

[1] Text extracted from Cobh and Harbour Chamber website.

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#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x kate williams #our time to bloom #ottb

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