Author's Note: This one-shot, and yes it is a one-shot, was completely unplanned. I was sitting outside of my English Composition classroom yesterday, and I decided that I would really like to listen to the music from The Phantom of the Opera. I have the soundtrack from the 2004 movie, and I decided that I would really like to hear The Music of the Night as sang by Gerard Butler. While listening to it, all I could picture was Gerard Butler in his Spartan costume from the movie 300. And as well all might know, thinking of half-naked, extremely attractive Scottish men, leads the mind toward Harry Potter (and most likely Oliver Wood.) When thinking of Oliver Wood, I think immediately of Katie Bell. When I considered Katie Bell, The Music of the Night, and highly attractive half-naked men, I knew I had to write a Charlie/Katie one-shot. That, my dear readers, is how I came up with this fiction.
The Music of the Night
Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensationDarkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses
-Andrew Lloyd Webber
Charlie sighed as his childhood home floated into his line of vision. His ginger-colored hair hung limply in his face; his limbs ached painfully with each propelling footfall; and he just wanted to be in his bed. The rain that had been threatening to fall all day finally began its descent and pelted his face in the likeness of small stones.
Charlie paused at the gated entrance of the family's home. Chickens pecked nearby half-heartedly, and he could not help but feel empathetic toward them. He, too, had merely been going through the motions and just fighting to get by for the past year. The war had changed a whole Hell of a lot for his family, and he couldn't help but feel even further disconnected from them than he did before the war.
Bill, the brother with whom Charlie had always been close, had been married during the midst of the war. Fleur, his lovely part-Veela wife, was a really sweet woman, but she had driven a stake down the middle of the brothers' relationship. Bill getting married and settling down left Charlie as the odd one out in the family. He was now the only child living in a dangerous counting and conducting an extremely dangerous career.
Charlie slowly pushed the gate open and wandered into the dark land surrounding the Burrow. He meandered toward the front door. As the door creaked open, wailing much in the same manner as the ghoul in the attic, Charlie considered the rest of his siblings. Ginny, his little baby Ginerva, had thrown herself completely into nurturing Harry back to happiness and normalcy. She had just finished at Hogwarts, and she was to be married to Harry within the following year.
Percy, once he was accepted fully back into the family, quickly fell back into the monotony of his old life. He returned to the ministry and his job as the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister. The most shocking thing that encompassed Percy's life was when he felt daring and decided to change the color of his tie. Then again, there was the whole secretly eloping with Penelope Clearwater and impregnating her ordeal, but Charlie believed that each member of the family deserved at least one chance to truly infuriate Molly with a life choice. (Bill had done it with his curse-breaking career, himself with his dragon rearing career, the twins with leaving school, and Ron with stealing and flying the car.)
Marriage had absolutely abounded in the family since Voldemort's defeat. Ron finally plucked up the courage to ask his best friend to date him. Three short months later, Charlie watched his baby brother enter into manhood with Hermione Jane Granger at his side. Marriage, once again, was the reason that Charlie was entering the world of red heads and quick tempers when he did not feel a huge part of it.
George, somber and serene, was to be married the next day to Alicia Spinnet; Godric bless the girl. George had proposed before the war, and she had said yes. However, once the war came to its conclusion, George began to draw back into himself. "Alicia has the patience of a saint," Charlie thought to himself as his large foot connected with the first of the stairs. He stumbled slightly in the dark. As he regained his footing, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to his brother.
George had become a recluse. He had hidden himself away with himself and would not open up for anyone. Even Weasley Wizard Wheezes remained closed for months. Alicia, the sweetheart, simply would not allow George to sink completely into a mire of depression. Yes, Alicia had saved George, but the young man simply was not George with his counterpart, Fred.
Charlie felt his throat constrict painfully as his rough hand found the doorknob to his bedroom. The dragon keeper slipped into his bedroom and dropped his bag on the floor. As his bag fell, so did the tears that he had not allowed to be cried for months. He allowed his stocky form to fall heavily against the door with a thump, and his thick muscles connected painfully with the roughly hewn door as he allowed himself to slide down. Charlie collapsed onto the floor, and a sob wrenched painfully from his parched throat.
While Charlie had been closest to Bill as friends, Fred and George were his actual favorite siblings. A room would light up immediately when they entered, whether it was because of a box of Fillibuster's was always a surprise. When the rest of the family was down in the dumps, the twins could always been depended upon to (attempt to) lighten the mood. Charlie personally appointed them to his quidditch team in his seventh year, and they went on to win the cup with him.
When he had announced to the family that he would be moving to Romania rather than playing seeker for England, they were the only two that were completely on his side. They had been there for him through thick and thin; and hen Fred died, Charlie felt as if a piece of him died as well. Rather than becoming reclusive like George, or mourning immediately like the rest of the family, Charlie locked his feelings away on the inside and went back to Romania and work.
For the first time in a year, Charlie was allowing himself to mourn the death of one of his closest siblings. Unfortunately (or at least he thought), he allowed himself to break down on the eve of his brother's marriage. He let loose an anguished cry, and he slowly began to rock backward and forward. He had no idea if the pain would ever end.
It was incredibly difficult losing someone he had taught to tie his shoes; and he did not believe that he could ever fully explain what losing Fred meant to him, but he could easily explain how it felt. It felt like a thousand tiny little fingernails digging into his skin and tearing downward. It felt like hypothermia on a hot summer's day. It felt like his brain was replaced with lead. It felt like a thousand tiny little butterflies were in his stomach doing a difficult tango that could only be achieved in flight. It felt like his throat was closing painfully tight and only opening for a tiny bit of air. It felt like his lungs were filling with steaming water and expelling it just in time for him to take another difficult, gasping breath. It felt like he had walked through the desert for days and his eyes would never be moist again. Sand had been kicked in his face, salt was poured in his wounds, and he was being suffocated with a plastic bag; but no matter how badly Charlie wanted to, he just could not succumb to the pain.
"I'm sorry," a voice called out meekly in the dark, and Charlie was immediately ashamed of his tears. They were like fire, and he tried his hardest to wipe them away. Soft shuffling met his ears, and he tried to discern who the female was that was in his room. It definitely was no his sister, one of his sister-in-laws, or mother; but the voice did sound vaguely familiar. "I couldn't think of a way to slip out for you to have your privacy, and I thought it would be rude for me to remain silent any longer."
Charlie grunted in a non-committal fashion as the bedsprings of his old bed screamed in protest to the woman's weight. It wasn't Alicia nor was it Fleur's sister Gabriella. "Molly told me to sleep in here tonight because she honestly did not know if you would be here, Charlie."
Finally, it clicked. The voice belonged to a girl he had met a long time ago. He had helped train her for the Gryffindor quidditch team before he left, and she had been great friends with many of his siblings. She had attended many family functions and always found the time to talk to Charlie despite being a guest of George and Fred. At the thought of Fred, another painful gasp found its way from his throat.
"Katie," he moaned in a scratchy tone, and the tears fell fresh. He heard the bed springs scream in protest once again. A light emitted from the tip of her wand, and Charlie found himself panicking. "No," he cried, "turn it out!"
Immediately the small light was gone, and shortly there after, he felt her leg bump against his as she sat along side of him. "Charlie," she whispered as her hand fell on his leg, extremely close to his own hand, "what happened?"
Katie's hand inched up his leg, and he allowed her to grasp his hand tightly when she finally located it. He heaved another sob, and her smooth fingers began to work the pressure points in his rough and calloused hand. "Katie, I…" he paused long enough to choke on his tears, "I… I… I shouldn't be George's best man."
"You slept with Alicia?" She cried in mock-horror, and despite himself, he chuckled weakly before going back to his tears.
"Fred should be standing up there tomorrow, not me."
Silence met his assertion, and he began to feel embarrassed once again. It was as he tried to gently tug his hand from her grasp that he heard the sharp intake of breath that he associated with crying. Katie clamped down tightly on his hand and choked out, "Charlie, why have you waited so long to grieve?"
The final thread of Charlie's control snapped. A scream of pain and anguish ripped through his throat, and he soon found himself with his face burrowed into Katie's stomach. He continued to scream and sob as clutched tightly to the back of her oversized t-shirt.
Sobs wracked through Katie's body violently, and she was pressed roughly between stocky Charlie Weasley and his huge dresser. Despite her discomfort, she stroked Charlie's hair in an attempt (however weak) at consolation. "Let it all go, Charlie. Let it all out because you cannot live with this pressing down on you."
Minutes ticked on slowly, marching like Russian soldiers to protect Leningrad, and soon, Katie was humming. It was the only thing she could do to calm herself. After a couple of minutes of the humming, words began to pour from her lips. "Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Put your thoughts of the life you knew before… Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before."
Charlie began to pull out of her grasp, and she felt so sorry that she had began to sing. Here Charlie was, needing her help, and all she could do was sing like some type of fool. "I'm sorry, Charlie," and she croaked over the words that followed, "I couldn't help myself. I would sing that for Fred when he came to me with Angelina problems."
"Katie," he replied as his hands found her face and began to wipe her tears away, "it was beautiful, and it reminded me that there is beauty in the world just waiting for me to experience it. I caged myself up this past year like a Ukrainian Silverbelly, and I had to let that beast go. Katie, so do you."
"What? Charlie, I…"
"Katie, we all miss Fred, and he will always be a missing chunk of our lives; but he would never want us to sit here like this a year later," Charlie said gently, and his caress grew much more tender.
Katie sighed, and her smooth skin stretched beneath his calloused appendages. "I know, Charlie. Oh, Godric, do I know, but it's so hard to let go of someone that close and important to you."
"I know that, Katie, but let me be here for you now. Let me fill up in the hole in your being and complete you, and you can fill up the hole in my being and complete me," he pleaded tentatively before moving in on her lips.
Charlie's fingers caressed the rosy lips, and Katie sucked in a surprised breath of air. The whoosh of air past his fingers caused shivers to run a marathon up and down his spine. Tentatively, he placed his chapped lips chastely against her well-tended pair. He halfway expected her to pull away from him in disgust and shock, thus he was pleasantly shocked when she leaned in toward him and deepened the kiss.
They pulled away from one another, and Charlie felt as if he had just run a 5-K marathon with the way he was breathing. She began to pull away from his grasping hands, and he regretted his actions immediately. Godric, she probably thought he was some sick old pervert now.
"Charlie," she whispered from somewhere in front of him, "put some pajamas on and let's get to bed. I can sleep on the floor if you like, or I'll go sleep on the sofa.
He stood to his feel and stumbled weakly toward his dresser. A pair of tartan pajama bottoms found their way into his shaking hands. He dropped his blue jeans and removed his shirt before pulling on the precariously low-hanging bottoms. "Katie," he choked as he ran a hand through his hair, "we can share my bed. I swear to God that I won't try anything."
A moment passed before she replied, "I'll slip in first." He nodded, ignorant to the fact that she could not see his head movements in the darkness of his room. His bedsprings screamed in protest once again. Once the sound ceased, he found himself sinking into the fantastically soft mattress. After a few moments, Charlie asked, "Katie?"
"Hmm?"
"What were you singing earlier?"
A lofty sigh escaped her lips before she replied; "It was called The Music of the Night by Andrew Lloyd Webber. It's from The Phantom of the Opera."
"It was beautiful. Would you sing a bit more?"
A moment of silence passed before her sweet voice filled the room. "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses."
Her voice faded away softly, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Charlie's lips. The song was disgustingly fitting for this situation. Charlie was well-aware of everything in his darkness; the closeness of her body to his own; the sweet smell that was strictly Katie Bell, a mix between vanilla and sweet milk; and her breath on the side of his face.
"Charlie?" She asked a while later.
"Hmm?" He grunted as he turned his head to face her. The shivers that he had been experiencing all night returned as their noses touched.
Katie's lips brushed softly against Charlie's as she muttered, "I think you complete me."