A/N: In my little world Charlie Weasley lives in America, plays professional Quidditch and during the off season, he works at the only dragon preserve in America. He also helps his friends fight dark magic. Charlie's just come back from a rather harrowing adventure fighting dark magic with a wizard army in Mexico. Charlie missed a month of Quidditch training camp. He had a real good excuse for missing, but he's not sure the owners are going to buy his story. He also has a reporter on his ass who's more than a little pissed off at him. Charlie's got a couple of secrets he doesn't want the reporter to find out about, but she is very persistent. More than a one-shot. --Rita
Based on characters created by J. K. Rowling
Chapter 1—Conditions
Charlie moved in with his friend Travis Davis, because, as of this minute, he was technically unemployed. He'd left the preserve to go on his little adventure fighting an evil dark wizard named Ares (Real Name: Herman Figg) in the mountains and desert of Mexico. He was hoping to talk to the director of the preserve about returning after Quidditch season, IF he managed to get his job back with the Flying American Red Dragons Quidditch Club. He'd missed a month of training camp. Before he left for his adventure, he wrote to the coach, Dmitri Popov and explained where he was going and why. He knew Coach Popov would understand because he was from Europe and had experienced firsthand the effects of dark magic. The owners of the Reds were Americans and, until recently, had never known that evil existed. Hopefully, the Secretary of Magic, Silas Roundtree would make good on his promise to put in a good word for Charlie with the team.
The other problem Charlie faced was a string of very bad publicity. In order to draw Ares into the final showdown, he had to bring him out of hiding. Ares read the smutty celebrity tabloids, so Charlie created a sensational story of drunken debauchery which the tabloids were only too happy to print. The ploy worked, but now Charlie had to live with the fact that everyone thought he had gone to rehab, then relapsed. Well, he thought, it was important that his friends and family knew the truth. Now the press wouldn't leave him alone, especially Linda Martinez, the one who had written the original story. He had been such an asshole to her that he knew she would never let the story go.
The press thought Charlie was avoiding training camp because he was trying to get a better contract. They called him all kinds of names and accused him of being a prima donna. The truth was, Charlie would pay them to play Quidditch. He played the game because he loved it. If he wasn't able to get his job back as seeker, he decided that either he would beg for a spot on the second team or try to play for another team, even semi-pro or minor league team.
He requested an interview with one of the owners, a colorful wizard by the name of Guy Bingly. Guy like Charlie a lot, but he was first and foremost a business man. His favorite quote of Bingly's was, "Son, if you're going to fuck me in the ass, you'd better kiss me first." Charlie could imagine his reaction when he accepted the interview.
Charlie woke up especially early that day he was to meet with the owners. He dressed carefully conservatively and even let Travis give him a haircut. He was too distracted to eat breakfast, deciding to visit his friends and fellow team-mates, Joanna and Jordan Kingsley, instead. Joanna was back as chaser after having given birth to their first daughter, Kayleigh. Jordan was the team's keeper, one of the best in the league. He had played previously for the Hamilton (Ontario) Horntails as seeker, but took over as keeper when he transferred to the Reds.
It was still too early for practice when Charlie flew to the gates outside the training camp. The security officer recognized Charlie and let him in immediately after being assured that he had an appointment. The team had not barred him from coming in and that was a very good sign.
Charlie wandered to down to the practice pitch. Coach Popov and Jordan were already on the field for their morning flying. Jordan spotted Charlie and flew down immediately. Popov saw him, but stayed in the air.
"Charlie!" cried Jordan. "Welcome back." He embraced his friend. "We were so worried about you. I'm glad everything turned out well." Jordan knew exactly where Charlie had been and what he was doing. Both he and Joanna were members of the same secret society as Charlie, the Society of Fred, founded by Travis and others and named for Charlie's brother.
"Joanna's going to freak now that you're finally back." He said.
"Where is she?" Charlie asked.
"Oh, she's with Kayleigh. She spends as much time as possible. We have a nanny now, which is perfect. She's able to play and we know Kayleigh's in good hands.
"So, you're coming back, aren't you?" Jordan asked, concerned.
Charlie shrugged. "I hope so. Do the owners know the real story?" No one had told him yet whether Silas Roundtree had informed the owners of Charlie's role in the defeat of Ares. "What if they buy the bull shit story the press is feeding them?"
"I wouldn't worry about it. The team, well, except for Ryan, is on your side." Ryan was the second seeker who was now enjoying the top stop. He wasn't going to be happy if Charlie got his old job back. "Joanna and I won't play if you don't come back." He said matter-of-fact.
"Don't screw up your careers because of me. I'm a big boy. I knew what I was doing when I walked away. I understand perfectly. It's the team that matters, Jordan, not me. There are a hundred seekers out there that can do my job." Charlie was sincere. He always believed in the team before himself.
Charlie looked at the time and blanched. He had to hurry in order to make it to Bingly's office. Jordan wished him luck and asked him to come back after the meeting. As Charlie walked away from the pitch, he looked up and saw that Coach Popov had stopped flying and was watching him, expressionless as always. Charlie gave him a wave and Popov nodded and returned to his flying regimen.
At the front office, Charlie saw there was a lobby full of reporters waiting on him. Shit, he thought, this is not a good sign. He stood up straight and opened the door and was instantly bombarded with flash bulbs popping, and people pushing into him asking questions he didn't understand. He smiled and nodded patiently as he pushed his way to the receptionist's area. The cute receptionist, Gwendolyn smiled at him and stood up and led him into Guy's office.
Guy was standing up looking out the window when Charlie entered. He didn't turn around, but said, "Hello, Charlie."
"Guy," Charlie said. Bingly turned around. He was smoking one of his expensive cigars. He knocked some of the ashes into the floor and looked at Charlie expressionless. He was sizing him up. Bingly never said anything off the cuff. He knew exactly what he wanted to say and how he was going to say it.
"Have a seat, Charlie." The motioned to the chair in front of his huge desk.
"Thank you, sir." He said politely. Neither said a word for the longest time, each waiting on the other to speak. Finally, Charlie cleared his throat. "Guy, I want to come back and play this season. I know I've missed a month of practice, and I know I don't deserve first team."
Bingly raised an eyebrow and kept smoking. He picked a piece of tobacco off his tongue and stared at Charlie. He brushed some ash off the front of his shirt. "I've had a bunch of people come talk to me about you, Charlie. Everybody seems to think you deserve another chance. Coach Popov said you should be allowed to come back. Hell, even Silas Roundtree popped in the other day, asking me to give you a break. Said something about you doing something to save millions of people, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. Some big secret mission somewhere."
Charlie nodded. "Something like that," he said. Charlie sat back.
"Don't suppose you would tell me either, would you?" he asked.
Charlie shook his head. "Sorry."
"You going to ask me for more gold?" he asked him looking at him squarely. Charlie noticed that Bingly looked angry or pissed off at him.
"No sir," he said quietly. "It's never been about the gold. And I would have been here otherwise. But I can't talk about where I was or what I did. I'm sorry, Guy. I would tell you if I could."
"You were out partying and having a good time. The press sure was able to find you." He was mad now. "What's this bullshit about you staying away to re-negotiate your goddamn contract?"
Charlie shook his head. "I had to tell them something. Look, Guy, I'm sorry if I embarrassed the club or you. That was not my intent."
"I'm supposed to just let you back in? No harm no foul, right? You don't want a raise and you are willing to go to the second team. Is that what you're telling me?"
Charlie nodded. "Yes, sir." Charlie rubbed his sweating hands on his pants.
"Either you're the stupidest wizard I've ever seen or you have some of the biggest balls." He blew out a smoke ring. "Okay, Weasley, here's the deal. We want you back, but you're going to be on a two game suspension, and you have to go to rehab for real and you're going to be doing some community service. No more drinking binges and no more stupid stunts, you got that? And we're going to fine you for missing practice. But we think you deserve a raise for the World Cup championship. The legal counselors are working on a new contract."
Charlie stood up and shook his hand. "Thank you, sir."
"We're having a press conference later on this afternoon and I expect you to be there. Get your equipment and get your ass out there on the field. You have a lot to make up for. And don't worry about the rehab, we've made arrangements for you to go to outpatient counseling starting in a week. Don't fuck up again, Charlie. Next time I'm not going to be so nice. And go out the back way. I don't want you talking to reporters until the press conference." He pointed to a wall away from the door.
Charlie went out the back way and took some stairs that lead to the practice pitch. The team was in the dressing room getting ready for practice. Charlie walked in and everyone turned and looked at him. An enormous yell erupted and he was surrounded by the players who embraced him and pounded him on the back, welcoming him back. Charlie was speechless. He hadn't expected such a welcoming. He walked to his locker and put on his uniform. Before he had the chance to talk to anyone privately, the whistle sounded and the players scrambled to the field.