Charlie Weasley could feel a lump the size of a snitch settle into his throat. He could feel it in his stomach too, and the dredges of anxiety began to creep up in his chest. He hated lying, always had. Evading the truth—that was one thing. There was no blatant deceit there, no hard feelings. Lying—that hurt people, and every time Bill talked him into one of his stupid plots it always involved lying.
And getting caught.
Why couldn't Bill just be more creative with his plans? It didn't take a genius to figure out how to get around the rules. Yeah, it was more difficult than just flat-out lying, but if you asked Charlie, Bill could use a bit of a mental exercise. Merlin knew he hardly used his brain unless it involved Quidditch.
Charlie huffed and settled into the corner of the sofa. His stature had recently developed into a burly set of the shoulders that didn't quite fit the twelve-year-old, and he couldn't fold himself into the cushions like he used to. To compensate for this loss, he sat with a pillow clutched to his stomach and counted the scratches on the paneled floor.
He didn't understand why he always gave into Bill when he wanted to sneak off on some harebrained broom ride through Ottery St. Catchpole. It probably had something to do with the fact that his older brother was undoubtedly off snogging Melissa Eccleston again, and Charlie didn't want to ruin that for him. However, Charlie didn't want to be his cover story either, and he was determined that this would be the last time.
"Charlie, love," Mrs. Weasley called as she descended the stairs, "have you seen Bill? He promised to get the slugs off of the garden hose for me."
"He's in the loo, Mum," Charlie said after a moment's hesitation.
"Still? George said he'd gone up there ages ago," Molly replied with a skeptical brow.
Charlie felt his stomach drop but opened his mouth to continue nonetheless. "Yeah, I checked on him a bit ago. He said something about explosive diarrhea."
Mrs. Weasley's face softened, but her nose wrinkled in disgust. Charlie had her there. His mum could handle just about anything, but if there's one thing she hated, it was a stinking bathroom.
"Poor dear," she sighed, "Check on him again, will you, love?"
"Will do, Mum." He pulled himself from the couch and swiftly disappeared up the stairs. His stomach did a guilty somersault, and he mentally shook his head.
Sod Bill and his stupid dates. Next time, Bill was going to cover for himself.
"Charlie, I need you to do me a favor."
It was a mere two days later, and Charlie sat on the living room floor, playing Exploding Snap with the twins.
"No, Bill."
Bill rolled his eyes before plopping down on the rug next to his brothers. "C'mon, mate. Mel's waiting for me."
Charlie raised a hand to his mouth, covering a yawn before rubbing at his eyes. "I don't feel good, Bill. Cover for yourself this time."
"Well, I can't rightly cover for myself if I'm not here, now can I? Just do it, Charlie, yeah?"
Charlie gave a resolute shake of his head before turning back to his younger brothers. "I told you; I don't feel good. Figure something else out."
Bill let out a groan and stood to his feet. "Don't be such a prat. You're fine!" He gave the other boy's shoulder a shove, and what happened next was the last thing he would have expected.
From his place on the floor, Charlie flinched himself back from the shove only to jerk back toward Bill. The boy gave a sickening wretch before emptying the contents of his stomach on his older brother's shoes.
"Shit!" Bill yelped, jumping away from the bile and attempting to shake off his trainers. "Seriously, Charlie? Ugh, shit. I'm sorry. That's not your fault, is it? I'm sorry for yelling. Are you okay?" He had now knelt down next to the younger boy and took a good look at him before standing up and rushing toward the stairs. "Stay there—I'll go get mum."
Bill was half way up the stairs and entirely out of sight when Charlie wiped the sick from his mouth and gave a weak smiled to the twins in front of him. "Where did you two learn that cod liver tablets could make someone ill?"
The two four-year olds simply gave their older brother a grin before shrugging and going back to the game in front of them. Charlie just laughed and rubbed at his head. The two boys hadn't even started primary school yet and they were already little master minds. He could just imagine them ten years from now.
At the sound of rushed steps against the stair case, Charlie latched a hand onto his stomach and leaned back against the floor. Yeah, he hated getting sick, but he didn't want to lie. And he really didn't want to cover for Bill this time.
And if Bill got stuck cleaning up the puke while Molly tucked Charlie into bed, Charlie surely wasn't going to complain.
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my story! This was written for round 9 of QLFC Season 5. I, as keeper for the Caerphilly Catapults, was tasked with writing about a know quidditch player and a time that someone reached a goal. For judging purposes, the final word count for this story is 901.