Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. But I do have a copy of each of the books. Does that count for anything?

Soaring

Chapter One: A Rough Takeoff

April Sixteenth, 1991

"Hello, Charlie!"

Charlie Weasley spun around only to see his brothers, Fred and George. Before he could reply, they swung their arms around his shoulder and led him, stupefied, out of the room. The trio eventually made their way to an abandoned classroom. The twins proceeded to plop Charlie down into a desk, all the while wearing identical Cheshire Cat grins.

Charlie finally found his voice again, getting over the shock of being forcibly dragged from the common room, down three flights of stairs, through two secret passageways, and into a doorway pretending to be a wall. "What the hell are you up to, runts?" he growled in an uncharacteristically menacing fashion.

The twins' smirks widened. "Charlie," cooed Fred.

"Dear, sweet, loveable Charlie," simpered George.

"Older brother whom we adore and admire so much,"

"Our valiant Quidditch captain and all around awesome guy,"

"We know your dirty little secret," they said in unison.

Charlie merely stared at them, completely nonplussed. "Well, that's rather impressive of you, considering I wasn't aware that I had a bloody secret."

The younger Weasleys winked simultaneously. "Oh, but you do, dear brother," George practically cackled.

"A big one, too."

"I'm just surprised it took us this long to figure it out, Fred."

"Well, we can't exactly be blamed for that. You know, I don't think he even realizes it."

George peered at Charlie, studying him intently. "I think you might be right, Fred."

"Does that mean we have to point it out to him?"

"Yes, oh wonderful twin of mine. I believe that that is exactly what that means."

They exchanged a determined nod before looking back at Charlie, who was now thoroughly annoyed. "What are you going on about? Merlin, you drag me halfway across the castle and can't even be bothered to include me in your rubbish conversation."

"Charlie, you might want to sit down for this," warned Fred.

Ignoring Charlie's roar of, "I AM SITTING, YOU TWATS," the twins continued to look at him in an unusually solemn manner.

George began, "Now, this may come as a bit of a shock to you, Charlie dear…"

"Just know that it doesn't change the way we feel about you, but…" continued Fred.

They paused dramatically before unanimously and earnestly announcing, "You're gay."

Charlie blinked. Then he blinked again. After blinking several times more, his brain finally confirmed that there could be no mistaking what his brothers had just said. His brain then decided that it would be prudent to laugh hilariously right about now. And so he did. "You… you think I'm gay?" be managed to choke out in between bouts of laughter.

George and Fred remained solemn. "Yes we do, Charlie old boy," stated George.

Charlie fought to keep down another fit of giggles as he rolled his eyes at his wayward brothers. "And what, pray tell, would lead you to that conclusion," he questioned.

Fred sighed. "You're eighteen, Charlie, and you haven't had a girlfriend."

"About to leave Hogwarts forever, and you haven't shown the slightest bit of interest in any girl in the school." George shook his head.

Charlie quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as he did so. "And this makes me gay, does it?"

Fred nodded. "Yes, yes it does."

"'Fraid so."

"Pity, really."

"Definitely. How're you going to produce your share of the seventy-three grandchildren Mum expects to have if you like blokes?"

"I won't… I'm not… I DON'T LIKE BLOKES!" Charlie practically shouted.

Fred offered his twin an exasperated look. "Methinks he doth protest too much, eh Georgie?"

George nodded in assent before returning his gaze to Charlie. "Honestly, bro. We don't care that you like guys. And you do," he continued, steamrolling over Charlie's indignant protests. "We've seen the way you look at some of the boys in the changing rooms after Quidditch. Not creepily or anything like that. You just look with a bit more interest than most people would consider normal. I doubt you even realize you do it. There's absolutely nothing wrong with feeling that way, Charlie. We just wanted to let you know that we don't care and we love you just as much as we always did."

"Plus, we'd like you more than Percy even if he nailed a hundred girls and you shacked up with some foreign bloke who smelled like Ron's sweatsocks and only spoke Gobbledegook," added Fred.

Charlie just looked at them helplessly. "What do you two know about this sort of thing? You're twelve! Do you even like girls yet?"

"We're thirteen, thank you very much," sniffed George.

"And we happen to like girls plenty, thanks. I've already decided that I'm going to marry Angelina Johnson someday, and George is going to be our butler! And we're going to live in a twelve-story, violet-colored ranch home, and breed fire-breathing hedges and juggling gnomes, and –OW!" Fred swore and rubbed his left foot where George's had just made contact with it.

"Anyway, back on topic. We know because we're your brothers, and we make it our business to know everything about everyone in our family all of the time –remind me later and I'll tell you a funny story about Percy and the ghoul in the attic. But you'd know it too, if you were us and we were you. It's a lot easier to figure things out about other people than to figure things out about yourself," George said with a sagacity surpassing his years. He offered Charlie a small smile before tugging Fred gently by the arm, indicating that it was time for them to make their departure.

Charlie sat in that empty classroom for what seemed like ages, thinking about all that the twins had said.