Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the Harry Potter universe; they go to J.K. Rowling. And all Hogwarts Daily characters are owned by their respectful players.

A/N: Special thanks to Célina for proofing my French in this. It is absolutely required that you read The Things We Missed before reading this. This contains slash, however, a more important warning, this does refer to the 2001 World Trade Center attacks. So please be warned. Thanks, and enjoy.

11 September 2001

Get on with living and loving. You don't have forever.
-Leo Buscaglia

It all happened so fast.

Kingsley was on the Wizarding Wireless Network, speaking at a press conference. Molly and Arthur Flooed into the living room, worried to death. Fleur was at the door, her panicked face peeking through the window, a crying Victoire in her arms. Percy Apparated with his wife Audrey into the backyard, storming into the kitchen, rattling off facts he learned at the British Ministry. Andromeda was in tears, little Teddy Lupin's hair a vivid red-orange. Hestia was in the study, writing letters as fast as she could to check on the conditions of the others. Hagrid's thundering sobs echoed throughout the house. Aberforth caught the copy of L'oracle quotidien an owl dropped off and tossed it to Adam.

Adam tried to block out all the commotion and noise in his house to read the headline of the paper: 'TRAGÉDIE AUX TOURS JUMELLES'. The screaming text was accompanied by a moving photograph of the disaster as it happened. The smoke, the flames, the evil. He couldn't handle it. With a biting fury, Adam flung the paper into the fireplace, not even watching the parchment burn. It wasn't a few minutes until the fire turned a bright emerald green and Bill came running out of it, engulfing his wife and daughter in a firm embrace.

"Where's Charlie?" Bill asked Adam loudly over his mother's fussing. Adam shrugged.

Percy told the Order of the Phoenix what happened. It was a hijacked plane. First one, then another. It was some Muggle terrorist group, but the American Ministry of Magic was sure it was something else. Kingsley met with Minister Bramble to extend a helping hand, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione went with him, naturally. Tara York arrived an hour after the second plane had crashed. She was having tea with Eliza Klein when they were forced to part; Eliza needed to see her own family.

"Anything?" Tara entered the study where Hestia and Adam were currently sitting in silence. The French afternoon sun was shedding its light through the arched windows, its optimistic warmth contradicted by the atmosphere of dread.

Hestia pulled up some parchment on Adam's desk. Most were hastily stuffed into envelopes and all of them had either shaky or indecipherable handwriting. "I got a letter from Rodney. Fenwick," Hestia added, in case Adam and Tara had forgotten their old friend from Hogwarts. "His brother Grant was in New York."

Adam saw Tara gulp. "And?" she prompted.

"No word yet," responded Hestia, her voice unsure. She came up with another letter, this one, very fresh. "And Eliza just wrote. Their house-elf dropped it off. She says she and her family are fine. Ty, too," she noted, addressing Adam. "He was just leaving for Bath as Eliza wrote."

He gave a wordless nod.

"Ty can take care of himself," Tara said in a what was meant to be a reassuring tone. "He's seen worse… I mean, well… you know."

"I know," came Adam's monotonous reply. In his hands was a framed photo of Alex, looking up at Adam with a concerned face. "It's not him I'm worried about. It's--"

"Charlie!"

Adam, Tara, and Hestia rushed out of Adam's study to see Charlie Weasley engulfed in many hugs and kisses from relieved family members. From what of Charlie was visible, his eyes were red and puffy, and he was white as a sheet. Molly offered him what was left of the lunch Adam prepared for himself but Charlie refused even though Adam had barely touched it. Percy was firing one question after another at his brother, however, the dragonologist did not utter a single word. Once Bill finally released his hold on his younger brother, Charlie retreated into the kitchen, with Adam, Tara, and Hestia in his wake.

They stood for a while, no one speaking. Charlie was seated on a barstool, head in his hands on the island's granite countertop. The only thing that could be heard was the commotion in the room next door alongside Hagrid's cries in the backyard. Once Hagrid's weeping died down, Charlie spoke.

"Grant's dead."

"Oh my God."

"Merlin…"

Tara's hand went up to her mouth and Hestia's dam of tears finally broke. Adam stared at Charlie. When his eyes met the older man's, Charlie found the strength to continue. "Rodney told me. Grant's girlfriend Agatha Vance doesn't know yet. She's in Tinworth with her family."

Hestia was outright sobbing. Over her cries, Charlie explained. "I was staying with Rodney in Vermont when it happened. I was there for a couple of nights after I finished that dragon-rallying assignment in Montpelier two days ago. The first plane hit at around eight forty-five in the morning. Then the second at around nine."

Tara was keeping Hestia up on her feet. With tears streaming down her own face, Tara asked, her voice quivering, "H-how d-d-did you find out? A-a-about G-Grant?"

"The pocket watch."

Adam went into the study and returned with a golden pocket watch dangling from a watch fob. It was intricately decorated, custom gifts from Eliza one Christmas, more than ten years ago. Showing the clock face to Tara and Hestia, Adam clicked it open. There were eight hands, labeled with names in minuscule and elegant script. Six of the tiny iron hands were labeled 'Adam Hall', 'Charlie Weasley', 'Eliza Klein', 'Hestia Jones', 'Rodney Fenwick', and 'Tara York', all pointing to 'Mortal Peril'. However, the two other hands were lifeless. Adam shook the watch vigorously, causing the hands to swing around limply, lose momentum, and finally stop. The hands were engraved with the names 'Alex Hamilton' and 'Grant Fenwick'.

The girls could only stare at the watch in disbelief. Adam closed it. Hestia rummaged in her robes, her hands shaking, and pulled out a small, velvet, beaded bag. Wordlessly, she Summoned an identical pocket watch and opened it. She shut her eyes tightly against the oncoming tears and put the watch away.

Adam took the barstool beside Charlie, whispered in his ear, and hugged him. He had never felt a tighter embrace in his life.

Hours passed. The sun had set on the Mediterranean Sea and Adam's house was considerably less crowded and noisy. The only people remaining were Adam, Tara, Hestia, Andromeda, Teddy, Fleur, Bill, and Charlie. Everyone else had gone home. It was a long day. So much panic and wondering and noise, though it seemed to be all for nothing. The Order was able to gather information relayed by Harry and the others, but there was little they could do to help here in France, or there in Britain. They could only mourn.

Fleur and Adam were preparing dinner.

"La bouillabaisse est prêt," announced Fleur from the kitchen. Adam finished the last place setting on the dining table and entered the kitchen, an ambrosial aroma hitting his nose as the door opened for him. "Tu as mis la table?"

"Oui," acknowledged Adam. The heavenly smell of Fleur's cooking was slowly bringing him back to life. He smiled and commented, "Tu as fait une bouillabaisse en deux heures?"

Fleur gave him an impish grin and answered, "Eet eez why Bill married me."

Chuckling softly, Adam retrieved a pot from the cupboards and began ladling the stew into it when Fleur put her hand on his shoulder. "Adam? J'ai besoin d'une faveur."

"Anything." Adam was still ladling.

"Can you let Charlie stay 'ere with you?" Fleur's eyes were tender, a soft blue-grey. Those eyes which seduced straight men so easily were currently imbibed with motherly affection. "I theenk eet weel be good for 'im."

Adam stopped busying himself with the food for a moment and turned to her. "How so?"

"Where else eez 'e to go?" Fleur stated quite bluntly. "'Iz seeblings all 'ave families, and 'e leeves all alone. Eet eez sad, but true. You are 'iz closest companion, so eet eez only right zat you should comfort each ozer." She brandished her wand and swiped a figure-Z in the air, the rest of the bouillabaisse flying into the ceramic pot.

"En tout cas, il t'aime."

The serving pot threatened to slip out of Adam's hands. "Quoi?"

"Il t'aime," repeated Fleur, levitating eight wine glasses out of the wine cellar. "Does Andro-mee-dah allow leetle Teddy to drink wine?"

Adam ignored the question. "What do you mean, 'Il t'aime'? That he likes me? Or that he--"

"Ça m'est égal," said Fleur, waving a hand casually. "'Il t'aime' ou 'Il t'adore'… All zat I know eez zat ze way 'e looks at you… eet eez more zan just mere friendship."

"Deener eez ready!" yelled Fleur into the house. Fleur flicked her wand once and the wine glasses, bread and cheese basket, ratatouille, and bouillabaisse floated into the air. "Maintenant… vin rouge ou blanc?" Adam looked at the blonde incredulously.

After Fleur's wonderful dinner, Adam's house was left empty. The pots, pans, dishes, and cutlery were all cleaning themselves in the sink. The countless wall sconces throughout the house were flickering with light, and barely enough was coming through the windows to illuminate the shore nearby. In the light of his house, Adam descended the stone and wood steps from his backyard to the beach below. The breeze was cool and nice. The sea salt brought a pleasant smell to the air that reminded Adam why he refurbished the watermill in the first place. Beneath his bare feet, the sand felt soft though rugged, natural. It was surreal to think that America's World Trade Center had only just… and that a close friend had… only hours ago… Adam shook his head.

Igniting his wand with light, Adam called, "Charlie?"

"Over here."

Adam joined Charlie on a polished boulder in the sand. The redhead was writing in a small, rather thick, leather-skinned journal with an Infinitely Inked Quill. Adam got a glimpse of the date, '11 September 2001', before Charlie hastily closed it. "Hey."

"Hey," replied Adam. "Are you writing? It's so dark. Here…" Adam rounded up some firewood with a few waves of his wand, piling them up to make a small bonfire. "Incendio. There, that's better."

"Thanks," Charlie wearied. They sat quietly before Charlie spoke up again. "Thanks for inviting me to stay, Adam. You're right. I don't think we can do this alone."

Adam hummed in agreement, watching the dancing flames and listening to the rush of the waves before them. "What are we going to do about Grant?" queried Charlie, toying with a thin necklace in his fingers. "There should at least be a funeral ceremony or something of the sort… And what about Agatha? How can we even tell her?"

Rubbing the base of Charlie's neck, Adam eased him. "It'll be fine. Don't you worry. I'll take care of everything." Charlie's arm found its way around Adam in a one-armed hug. It wasn't clear whether the warmth that flooded through him was Charlie's doing or the bonfire's, but either way, Adam loved it. He returned the gesture.

"What time is it?" asked Charlie.

Adam pocketed his hands and searched his robes to find nothing, only coming up with Eliza's pocket watch. He frowned. "I can't believe Grant's gone," lamented Adam, observing the hands. He had gotten used to the lifelessness of the one marked 'Alex Hamilton' but to have another join it in peace was dreamlike.

"Huh, would you look at that," remarked Charlie, his voice now regaining strength. He pointed at the other iron pieces, now on other labels besides 'Mortal Peril'.

'Tara York' was pointing to 'Work', while both 'Eliza Klein' and 'Hestia Jones' were pointing to 'Traveling'. 'Rodney Fenwick' was at 'Hospital', and Adam and Charlie both knew what that meant. 'Adam Hall' was pointing to 'Home', and so was 'Charlie Weasley'. Adam shook the watch once more, but there was nothing wrong with it. Charlie's hand was truly pointing to 'Home'.

"Guess you're home," Adam told Charlie affectionately. Charlie laughed. It was his first genuine laugh all day. "This thing certainly doesn't lie."

"Apparently not," mused Charlie, his voice distant. "But really, what's the time?"

Stowing away the watch in his robes, Adam answered, "Last time I checked, it was ten. It's probably about half past now. You want some cake? I mean, it's been in the fridge for about a month since my birthday, but I'm sure it's still edible."

"…What's a fridge?" Adam laughed at Charlie. "But sure, go ahead. Let me just finish up my journaling."

Adam nodded and went back up the steps to the backyard, then into the kitchen. As he placed an enormous slice of chocolate cake on a dish, Adam didn't see Charlie sigh contentedly as he finished his journal entry, his dragon tooth necklace firmly in his closed fist.

"This is great." Charlie licked his fork clean as he took another piece of cake.

It was a quarter till eleven. Everything from dinner hours before was put away, the only lights left to flicker were those in the kitchen. Adam and Charlie were at the barstools they sat on earlier that afternoon. Goblets of pumpkin juice at hand, they toasted to the memory of Grant Fenwick and those who died in the attack. However, they no longer focused on the sadness but tried to remain optimistic. Grant would have wanted it that way, Adam reasoned.

"Eliza brought it over for my birthday. She made it herself apparently," said Adam with a mouthful of cake.

After a swig of pumpkin juice, Charlie retorted, "No, I reckon her house-elf made it. The last time she really cooked something, the bangers and mash blew up in my face."

They laughed. "Feeling better?" Adam questioned.

"A bit." Charlie had an additional bite of cake. "I just keep thinking about poor Agatha. And those people that died… and how so many others lost someone they loved…"

Rolling around a piece of cake on the plate, Adam mourned, "Reminds you how one never knows how much time they have."

Charlie nodded in somber agreement. "You don't have forever." He placed a hand on Adam's. "You being here makes things loads better though."

Adam felt heat rising up to his cheeks. "Truth be told, it wasn't my idea to have you stay over." Charlie gave him a bemused look. "Fleur told me you might feel lonely tonight, going home to London by yourself."

To Adam's pleasant surprise, Charlie wasn't offended or the least bit mad. "Damn right, she was, then." Adam laughed with relief. "I'm glad you took her advice. Although, sometimes it's hard to take that woman seriously."

Adam agreed, "Yeah. Oh, and you know what she told me?" Charlie made a sound of acknowledgment with cake in his mouth. "She told me… hah, well, she told me that you love me."

Charlie swallowed his food. "Did she tell you about the way I look at you?" Taken aback, Adam mutely nodded yes. "She told me that, too. I made her promise not to tell, but I should have known she couldn't keep quiet for too long…"

Putting his fork down, Charlie began to stammer. "Everything that's, you know… happened today just made me realize… to see that…"

His lips were dry, his throat was tight, but Adam managed to prompt, "…You love me?"

"I…" Adam didn't know how or when the conversation turned tense, though he knew that Charlie was not one to say those words to just anybody. However, Adam now knew that he wasn't just anybody to Charlie.

The hand on Adam's squeezed tighter as Charlie whispered, "I… I love you."

Time seemed to freeze. Their faces were so close that Charlie's soft voice rang in Adam's ears. He had heard the phrase so many times before but when Charlie said it, it felt pure, honest. Charlie's voice was dulcet and the moment perfect. Adam echoed Charlie's words.

"I don't have forever."

Adam and Charlie caught each other's lips in a searing kiss that had been brewing for four years, ever since their lips last touched at The Burrow one summer. The two men clung to each other passionately, their eyes clenched shut in a rush of emotion. It was an explosive catharsis as Adam felt Charlie melt under his touch. Their kiss was dying down, but the love that radiated between the two of them only grew fiercer.

Breathless against Charlie, Adam whispered, "I love you, too."

It was midnight. The sound of waves crashing on the shore below was like a lullaby in the comfortable silence between them. The bright moon was gleaming high in the darkly painted sky as stars twinkled above the French countryside. The candles of the bedroom were the only lights left flickering in the house, casting delicately dancing shadows on the wooden floors.

They later found themselves entwined in Adam's bed together, warm and restful beneath the bed sheets and each other's touch. Charlie had a hand in Adam's hair, contentedly stroking the golden brown locks of his newfound love. With his head tucked under Charlie's chin, Adam fingered the dragon heartstring around Charlie's neck, observing the shrunken dragon tooth. His ear was pressed up against Charlie's chest and he could hear the slow, easy rhythm of Charlie's heart.

Then Adam felt their breathing fall into the same time.

Charlie's embrace was firm yet Adam felt like Charlie was afraid to break him. His arms felt so safe that Adam wished he could stay here for all eternity. Adam felt a hand on his cheek and he looked up. Charlie gazed into his chestnut brown eyes which were now glowing with an extraordinary sensation.

Adam spoke first. "What're you thinking?"

With a gentle smile and a kiss, Charlie replied.

"I'm home."

A/N: Comments, feedback, reviews, constructive (I cannot emphasize that enough) criticism... anything is appreciated. Thank you.