Not to be dramatic but I'd die for Charlie Weasley
/
I.
Charlie is as surprised as anyone to hear that Ron's best mate at school is none other than Harry Potter.
He gets the letter from his mother one cold, snowy morning in early December; the dragons have all been fed and there are six cases of scale rot that need tending and they are down three Tamers besides, and so the letter goes into his pocket and is nearly forgotten until he undresses that night to shower before bed.
His exhaustion nearly causes him to miss the tidbit his mother throws in about Harry Potter's deplorable upbringing; even when he rereads the letter the next morning he is sure his mother is exaggerating.
Then Ron writes, and Charlie decides that victory over You-Know-Who aside, Harry Potter is a decent enough boy. He certainly risks expulsion by smuggling a baby dragon up to some of Charlie's coworkers, and when Ron says in his next letter that Harry plays Quidditch (and is, incidentally, the best Seeker Gryffindor has had since Charlie himself, as well as the youngest one in a century), Charlie has a feeling that Harry Potter is not going anywhere anytime soon.
II.
He's right, obviously.
He doesn't get a chance to see Ginny off to school, which he thinks might disappoint him more than it does her, but still he sends her the biggest bar of chocolate he can find in the village that's just down the road from the sanctuary.
It's not as though he expected her to write him every week – she's swept away with her first year at Hogwarts, same as he was. But when Halloween comes and goes and he still hasn't heard anything, he asks his mother. And he gets some troubling news.
Hogwarts was always safe – the safest place in the world, Hagrid used to say. To think that the kids there now are worrying about being attacked between classes makes his stomach sour with worry. He's distracted at work, which gets him landed in the infirmary every other week until his boss comes in and gives him a tongue-lashing worthy of his mum.
After that, he tries to put the troubles at Hogwarts out of his mind. His parents are closer to the school anyway, so if anything did happen they would get there first. But Charlie is uncomfortably aware that only he and Bill are no longer there – every last one of his remaining siblings remains in harm's way.
Which is why when his father Floos him one night in late spring, Charlie's first instinct is panic.
"What's happened?" He knocks over his chair when he gets up from the tiny table too fast, kneeling before the kitchen grate.
Arthur's face is haggard but he's smiling.
"Your sister had – er, well, she had a bit of an incident at school. She's all right, though."
Charlie swallows, hard. He can tell from the residual exhaustion and worry in his father's face that a bit of an incident is the merest tip of the iceberg. "Can…can I see her?"
"She's asleep, just now." Arthur looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, son. We just didn't want you to be caught unawares if one of the others said anything to you about it. She'll be fine, I promise."
He picks at an old blister on his palm; it's not quite a callous yet but the skin is already hard and tough, giving him something to focus on while he tries to wipe the worry off his face.
"I've got some vacation days piled up," he says, casual. "Don't suppose you've got room for one more?"
Arthur smiles. "You know you don't have to ask to come home, Charlie."
It's the answer he knew he would get, but somehow it's relieving to hear the words. "Tell Mum I'll be at breakfast."
/
The twins nearly kill him in the yard, though to their credit (sort of) it's by accident; their mother sent them to de-gnome the garden first thing on summer holidays and George, in a bet against Fred, managed to send one clean over the kitchen roof, missing Charlie's head by inches.
After everyone has stopped shouting and the poor gnome has properly been tossed over the garden fence, Charlie finds himself crammed between Percy and Ron with his mother's cooking piled onto his plate.
He loves his job, really he does. Dragons are the only thing he can imagine spending his whole life chasing and never getting tired of. But the crowded, scrubbed farmhouse table at the Burrow has a pull on him like no other place on earth does. He bumps Percy's elbow to make him slosh his orange juice, and smirks at the twins before asking Ron about this past year's Quidditch season.
Ginny isn't at the table, but their parents assure them all that she's fine, just tired. Charlie believes them until a terrible, heart-wrenching scream echoes from upstairs.
He beats them all there, even though he was seated furthest from the staircase. He flings the door open to find his baby sister thrashing on the bed like a wraith from the depths of hell is chasing her.
"Gin!" he grabs her shoulders, shakes her. "Ginny, wake up!"
"Ginny, dear," Molly cries, trying to smooth Ginny's hair but Ginny won't hold still. She's still screaming, weeping even, and still fast asleep.
Charlie bends over the bed, puts his face inches from hers, and shouts like he does at his dragons.
"Ginny!"
Those big brown eyes pop open, wide first with terror, then with shock.
"Charlie?"
Secretly, he's relieved she's recognized him so quickly. But he just nods.
"Yeah, it's me. You all right, Gin?"
She starts to nod, but her face crumples and before Charlie can do anything else, she's mashed her face into the crook of his shoulder and is sobbing as though her heart is broken. He hears the rest of his family quietly shuffle out the door, but he just pulls her close and lets her cry.
It takes several, several long minutes, but at last her tears are spent. Part of him wouldn't be surprised if she's cried herself back to sleep, but once the sniffles have almost died down she sits back a little.
His gut wrenches. Ginny looks awful – and not just because she's been crying. Dark circles under her eyes, paler than she's ever been, and thanks to the better part of fifteen minutes he just spent holding her, he knows she's lost weight. Too much, if her bony wrists and hollow cheeks are anything to go by.
Worse than all of that, though, are the shadows in her eyes. Her tears haven't chased them away, and something tells Charlie that nothing ever will.
"Sorry," she whispers.
He frowns, puzzled, before following her gaze to his shirtfront that's now damp with her snot and tears. "What, this? These are the cleanest bogies I've had on me in months. And they don't burn through my clothes, either."
That gets a tiny smile out of her, which is a good sign. He wipes one of her cheeks dry with his thumb.
"Want to talk about it?"
For a moment, he thinks she'll say no. But she sniffs, and looks towards her window. Something like determination steals across her features.
"Not here."
/
Charlie loves the apple orchard behind the house. More than he loves anything else about home, really. Memories, golden and untarnished, have been made here for as long as he can remember.
It was here where the twins told Ginny that she was too little to play Quidditch with them, causing her to run back inside in tears. That night, Charlie taught her to fly, after everyone else had to gone to bed; she rode in front of him at first, then did practice laps around the clearing until she was flying better than the twins could ever hope to.
(Bill, incidentally, taught her to pick the lock on the broom shed with Muggle bobby pins so she could continue practicing once he and Charlie were gone from home).
And so, Ginny feels the same way, which makes the orchard their place in his mind.
Even now, walking amongst the trees rather than flying, it's peaceful. Charlie habitually puts his hands in his pockets when he walks but he's careful not to do so now; Ginny's arms are crossed over her middle but if he knows his sister, he knows she's going to need another hug or ten to muddle through whatever it is that's upset her so badly.
She doesn't say anything until the house is no longer in sight. And once she starts, she can't seem to stop.
She tells him all of it.
How she humiliated herself in front of Harry Potter half a dozen times every day over the summer.
How an empty book she meant to use for a private diary suddenly became more than a place to vent her feelings for her brother's best mate – it became a friend, a source of reassurance that her feelings weren't silly or juvenile.
How her at first assumptions, then later self-assurances that the diary was a surprise going-away gift from their parents faded with every attack at school.
How she tried to go to Ron and Harry for help, she tried to get rid of the diary that made her do bad things, but nothing seemed to work.
How Tom made her write her own death sentence in blood, made her go alone to the Chamber and told her she would never see her friends or family again.
How he told her it was her fault, all of the terrible things that happened.
How she woke up to Harry covered in blood and sweat, how their father's initial reaction was pure disappointment that she did not keep herself safe.
How, even now that Tom is gone, she hears him whispering to her in her dreams.
Charlie keeps silent through it all, piecing together what's happened to his sister in the space of one year.
When at last she finishes, he looks over at her. She seems no better, but he wasn't hoping for that. He knew about one-fourth the way into her story that merely talking about it wouldn't fix it.
At the moment, he's so angry at their father that he wants to punch a tree. But he swallows it, focuses on the way Ginny is twisting her shaking hands together and doesn't even seem to be aware of it.
Calmly, he reaches over and takes one of them in his. She clutches him tightly, wraps her other hand around his arm and lays her head on his shoulder as they walk.
Charlie takes a deep breath.
"Want to know what I think?"
"Hmm?"
"I think Gryffindor should ditch the lion and make you the new mascot."
A pause, then Ginny's head jerks up off his shoulder. Her expression can only be described as incredulous.
"What?"
"Gin, if anyone deserves to be in the house of courage, it's you."
"Did you not hear a word I just said?" she protests. "I'm the one who hurt all of those people!"
"That's not what you said. That's what Tom said." He arches an eyebrow. "You're telling me you believe him over your big brother?"
Caught, Ginny flushes, looks down at her feet. She mumbles something that he doesn't catch, but it doesn't matter. He puts an arm around her shoulders and tugs her close to his side.
"Gin, the things you've seen and been through this past year would frighten anyone. They would frighten me, and you know I'm not afraid of anything."
Ginny nods. "Except for Mum."
"That's different," he chastises, poking her in the ribs.
She huffs a semblance of a laugh, before he pulls her to a halt so he can look her in the eye. "Listen to me, Gin. Someone else taking advantage of you means that they're a bad person, not that you're a weak one."
She processes this for a long time. Finally she says, quietly, "He was a bad person. He was awful, said I should do horrible things to anyone who upset me or made fun of me."
"And what did you do when he said that stuff?"
"I told him I couldn't, that I wouldn't. But then I would end up doing those things anyway, I just wouldn't remember doing it."
"He was using you, Gin." He squeezes her shoulder. "He was a monster, and you were just the first person he came across."
Something dawns on her face.
"That's it, isn't it?" she says, voice full of wonder. "I was the first – if anyone else came across that diary, those things still probably would've happened."
"No doubt in my mind," Charlie agrees.
She makes a sound that's half laugh, half scoff, and presses a hand to her face. "I was just the first. I wasn't vulnerable or weak. I was just the first."
"Just the first," he tells her firmly. "That's all."
Ginny smiles, and it's like the dawn is breaking.
/
Charlie stays a whole week before his vacation days run out.
He spends every night on the floor in Ginny's room; her nightmares are slowly subsiding but he still wakes at the smallest whimper from her bed.
On his fourth day, he walks in on Ginny and Arthur having a talk; she tells Charlie later that their father apologized for his scolding words.
He feels a lot better about leaving, after that.
He Apparates from the front lawn; the twins try to sneak a gnome into his knapsack but he boxes their ears hard enough to appease even Molly ("you dimwits, a dragon would eat one for breakfast"). Ron grins and awkwardly thumps his back – he'll be the tallest of all of them, that one. Charlie tugs him down to mutter in his ear.
"When you see Harry again, thank him for me."
Ron looks puzzled, before he glances over at Ginny; he nods fervently.
Percy huffs when Charlie tousles his hair, their parents hug him close and give him advice on getting a haircut and which Apparation points to avoid in Europe.
Ginny's last. She's up early today, and while he's glad that she's seeing him off he hopes she'll go back to bed once he leaves. For now, though, he drops his knapsack and tucks her under his chin – he won't be able to do that for much longer, he realizes suddenly. She's growing up, his baby sister. This past year has certainly had a hand in speeding up the process, but he's confident now that she'll be okay.
"Write me," he tells her.
She nods against his chest. "Will you read my letters to your dragons?"
"I already read my letters to them as I'm writing them, Gin. They'll think I can't do anything on my own."
That makes her giggle, and he takes the memory of her smile and his mother's parting embrace with him when he leaves.
III.
Charlie, though he would certainly have enjoyed visiting Bill with the whole clan, can't bring himself to regret using all of his vacation days on his trip home. The picture that his mother sends him shows a Ginny that looks leagues better than she did when he left.
His optimism is short lived when word comes that dementors visited the school train.
He spends half his grocery money for the week on an express owl, writing his sister and ensuring she's all right.
Her reply is concerning, but not in the way he expected.
The dementors were awful, Charlie. It was like Tom was in the room with me all over again. I've never felt so cold.
Harry had it worse than me though. He fainted straight away, onto the floor. He was so embarrassed when he came to; he kept asking who was screaming.
Draco Malfoy somehow found out about it, and he's been teasing him ever since. I'm hardly surprised that Harry is so sensitive to the dementors. What if it's because he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like? That would make me faint too, no question.
Her letter goes on about her classes, a new friend she's made (everyone calls her Loony Lovegood but she's so nice, Charlie. She's the only person in my year that isn't walking on eggshells around me").
Naturally, he sits and ponders the kid named Harry Potter for a while after that.
It's never really occurred to him, what Harry likely went through the night You-Know-Who disappeared. Even if he doesn't remember anything, the fact remains that he lost both of his parents at an incredibly young age, and was sent to live with his Muggle relatives (who, incidentally, possess an extraordinary talent for provoking the terrifying wrath of Molly Weasley – a talent that is unsurpassed by anyone else, even the twins).
Now, it appears that Harry does in fact possess some memories of that night that changed his life. Charlie winces. No kid deserves that; even less does he deserve to be mocked for it.
He feels a prick of annoyance, that this kid he's never even met is worrying him so much. Charlie has five younger siblings, an older one whose job is almost as dangerous as Charlie's is, and parents who continually struggle to make ends meet; he has enough to worry about as it is.
And yet this boy who has befriended Ron, who has impressed the twins with his wit, and then turned around and impressed their mother with his manners…
Charlie can't get him out of his head. Maybe it's because Harry's the one who brought Ginny back, or maybe it's because Arthur waxed poetic about Harry's extensive knowledge regarding Muggle currency. But everything Charlie's heard about Harry Potter so far has left him with the distinct impression that the poor kid needs a family more than he needs anything else, and the Weasleys have unofficially taken him in.
Which, in turn, means that Charlie has to worry about him. That's his job.
He thinks about the way Ginny blushes whenever she says Harry's name, and he grins.
He doesn't mind worrying all that much, anyway.
IV.
Merlin, but Ginny looks better.
She's grown up quite a bit; certain tendencies or quirks that she's always had no longer seem childish, but have an unmistakable girlish quality to them. She flips her hair whenever she's angry, and her scowl is so reminiscent of their mother's that he almost feels sorry for her future children.
But all of them have grown up, really.
Ron now towers over him, though his voice still cracks and he seems to be all arms and legs, scrawny enough for Charlie to lug about with one arm if need be.
The twins have funneled their manic-like energy and mischief into creating a real business. A business which, from the glimpse Charlie gets of their work before Molly destroys it, could really turn a decent profit. He's impressed, and also terrified at the thought that Fred and George's main aspiration in life is to help other children be more like them.
Percy…well. Percy hasn't really changed. He's just gotten more intense, like aged firewhiskey. He won't shut up about his new job, and Charlie is happy for him but also wants to retain his sanity and so he stops listening after the third or fourth time he's subjected to Percy's description of Mr. Crouch's impeccable record.
Bill being home at the same time is great; they swap stories of their most dangerous near-death-experiences at work when their mother isn't around and take turns dodging her pleas for them to get their hair cut.
Ginny, to his surprise, is enraptured with his newest tattoo. She's ogling it one afternoon in the sitting room; their father, Ron and the twins are off to retrieve Harry, and Bill is currently hiding upstairs while their mother gets started on supper (Percy, as always, is working).
He flexes and the dragon spreads its wings over his arm. Ginny beams.
"Did it hurt?"
"Yeah," he tells her honestly. "But it was worth it, don't you think?"
"Definitely," she nods. "I'm getting one, when I get old enough."
"Getting one what, dear?" Molly appears in the doorway, mixing something in a bowl.
Ginny instantly schools her expression. "Oh, erm. A nice desk job, like Percy's got."
"An excellent plan," Molly says approvingly. "Charlie, won't you go fetch Bill? I need the tables moved out into the garden, there's simply no way to fit all of us in the kitchen."
The moment she disappears, Charlie winks at Ginny before going to do as bidden.
/
Charlie shakes Harry Potter's hand, and immediately knows that he guessed correctly. This kid is positively starved for familial affection; it's in the way he stares almost hungrily at Ron and his siblings whenever they're bickering or playing together. It's in the shy smile he gives Molly whenever she fusses about his clothes or refills his plate. It's in the way he soaks up the golden hours of summer, of laziness and Quidditch in the orchard that tells Charlie this boy is unaccustomed to being so at ease.
He catches Ginny staring at him one evening, walking back to the house from the orchard. He bumps her shoulder with his, laughing when she jumps and blushes furiously.
"Oh, shut up," she huffs.
"I get it now," he tells her. "He's very dreamy."
If possible, she turns even redder. She swats him, before biting her lip.
"You…you approve, then?"
Charlie blinks, surprised. "Gin, you don't my permission. Or anybody's, really."
"I know," she says, quiet. "I just…don't really trust my judgment yet."
He purses his lips. "Hm. Well, whenever I'm doubting myself I always ask why."
"Why am I doubting myself?" she asks, incredulous.
"No. Why do you fancy him? Is it just because he's Harry Potter? If so, that's not bad on your account, you just might not want to act on it since I doubt he'd appreciate it."
Ginny frowns, thinking. "No, I…" she blushes. "The first time I saw him, on the platform at King's Cross before Ron's first year. We didn't know who he was until after he'd got on the train, but I remember thinking he had awfully nice eyes."
Charlie hides his grin, privately vowing to himself that awfully nice eyes will be in his speech at the wedding.
"And…Ron talked about him so much, the next summer, and then of course he came to visit and I couldn't go more than five minutes without breaking something. But he always pretended to ignore it, like he didn't want to embarrass me. He's always been like that. He's just…nice."
"Nice is a good place to start," he tells her, glad but not surprised that she's got her head on straight. "At the very least you know he's a good friend. Without that there really couldn't be much else."
Ginny nods, thinking. "He is a good friend. To Ron and Hermione both."
He grins. "Sounds to me like your judgment is just fine."
Her answering smile turns into a scowl when he musses her hair.
/
By the time he makes it to Hogwarts, Charlie is more than a little exhausted.
Transporting four female dragons with their eggs across Europe and out of sight from Muggles was a special kind of nightmare; he manages to find one day to sneak off to the Burrow for a solid twelve hours of sleep and his mother's cooking.
When he returns to the castle, Ron is waiting for him down at the paddocks.
"What are you doing here?" Charlie has to reach up a fair distance to thump his baby brother on the shoulder.
Ron shrugs. "Bored. Hermione won't quit nagging me to study."
Charlie knew that Ron and Hermione spend most of their time at each other's throats, but the bitterness in his brother's voice surprises him.
"Everything all right?"
Ron follows him into his tent, watches him change from travelling clothes to work gear. "Yeah."
Charlie tugs his dragon-skin vest over his head, and gives Ron and unimpressed look. "I though the twins gave you lessons on lying."
Ron's ears flush, and he fidgets before blurting, "Harry's name came out of the goblet."
"Yeah, I heard." Charlie fastens his utility belt and waits patiently.
"It's…it's just annoying. He can't go more than a day without being in the spotlight before doing something to drag everyone's attention back to him." Ron crosses his arms and scowls at the dirt floor.
Charlie knows he's staring, but he doesn't really know how else to react. Ron looks up at him expectantly.
Charlie clears his throat. "That has got to the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
Ron blinks. "What?"
"How did he get in the spotlight in the first place, huh?"
"…he beat You-Know-Who."
"You idiot, did you forget what else happened that night? Or are you too busy admiring the battle scar on his forehead to remember that his parents died, probably right in front of him?"
Uncertainty begins to steal across Ron's brow. "I…"
"And all that, Ginny's first year? Don't look like that, it wasn't any more your fault than it was hers," he rolls his eyes at the guilty way Ron squirms. "You think he enjoyed everyone else thinking he was the one putting all those people in the hospital wing?"
"Well, no," Ron admits. "He was pretty upset about it, actually."
"So you're telling me that you actually believe enjoys it, enough to the point where he'd deliberately do something to make people look at him?"
Ron's mouth opens and closes several times before he clears his throat. "Oh."
"Oh," Charlie mocks him. He shakes his head. "Look, Ron – I haven't known him for nearly as long as you have, and I can already tell he just wants to be normal. And that won't ever happen for him, so there's not much sense in you being angry at him for it."
"Oh," Ron mumbles again, blushing and staring at his feet. "Reckon I should apologize, then?"
"Yeah, probably." Charlie rolls his eyes but tugs Ron down for a brief hug. "Go tell him that the first task is dragons, that'll be a good way to break the ice."
"Dragons?" Ron's eyes light up.
"What did you think I brought here, flobberworms?"
/
Charlie won't admit it under pain of death, but watching Harry fly makes him feel old.
The stories weren't exaggerated – this kid is good, probably one of the best he's ever seen.
Better still is the sight of Harry exiting the tent afterwards, Ron beside him, both with matching grins as they discuss the task. Hermione trails along behind them, looking fond but extremely annoyed, and that's how Charlie knows things are back to normal.
He grins, and checks with Madam Pomfrey just he can tell his mother he's sure Harry wasn't seriously injured.
/
Charlie, not expecting visitors, is watching the Muggle telly in his pants. The knock on his door is in the pattern that he and Bill developed as kids, so his heart is already pounding when he runs to open it.
"What is it?" he asks, going cold all over at the look on Bill's face.
"You-Know-Who is back."
Charlie doesn't realize he's still gripping the doorknob until his knuckles crack; he closes the door and watches his older brother collapse into a kitchen chair, looking positively aged.
"What?"
"The third task. It was all a setup – Mad Eye Moody was a hostage all term, a Death Eater's been in his place, getting close to – "
"Harry," Charlie finishes, sinking into the other chair. "He's – ?"
"He's alive," Bill sighs. "But he saw him come back, and I don't want to know what that all entails. The look in his eyes is bad enough. Pomfrey gave him Dreamless Sleep Potion, and Mum's sitting with him. He's still crying in his sleep."
Charlie's heart aches.
"The other Hogwarts kid is dead," Bill says tiredly. "He got dragged along to wherever they took Harry for the…the ritual. Harry brought the body back, wouldn't let go until Dumbledore talked him into it."
"How did he get back?" Charlie asks.
"Portkey. The fake Mad Eye made it a portkey to whatever corner of hell they used to bring You-Know-Who back to life, and Harry managed to use it to get himself and the Diggory kid's body back to Hogwarts. Appeared out of nowhere, right there on the lawn. Mum was frantic."
Charlie doesn't say anything for a while; he's trying to process that the shy, goofy kid he watched fly against a dragon last autumn is probably not there anymore.
"Dumbledore wants to see you," Bill says at last.
Charlie was expecting that from Bill's opening sentence. He grunts in reply, and goes to find some clothes. He'll miss work tomorrow, but his boss will understand if it's a family emergency.
Frankly, Charlie doesn't much care if his boss understands or not.
/
Harry looks awful.
He doesn't even seem to be aware of Charlie's presence, so Charlie leaves him in the care of Ron and Hermione, presses a kiss to his mother's cheek, and trots off after Professor McGonagall to see the Headmaster.
"This is not a requirement of you, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall tells him.
He raises his eyebrows, keeps pace with her down the corridor and up two flights of stairs. "I know, Professor."
"It will be dangerous," she says under her breath. "The job the Order will ask of you – "
"Well, everyone knows I decided to chase dragons because I hate a good adrenaline rush."
She stops and faces him in front of the gargoyles. "Mr. Weasley, please understand – this is your choice, and yours alone. You are young, have your whole life ahead of you – "
"So does Harry," he interrupts softly. "And so do all of the Muggleborn kids who haven't got their letters yet."
She takes a shaky breath, and nods before giving the password.
V.
Charlie's schedule hasn't really changed much.
He still wrangles dragons, though he's got more paperwork since he requested to take over the Infirmary. Whoever holds that job is in charge of ordering supplies for the entire sanctuary, which makes it a lot easier to smuggle information for the Order in and out of Romania.
Dumbledore has been thrilled with what Charlie's given him so far – two tribes of giants, in the southern mountains, centaurs in the forested hills, and a decidedly unfriendly colony of merpeople in the Black Sea.
Charlie doesn't know what Bill is doing, and doesn't ask. He also doesn't ask what his family is doing back home (except for Percy, which is to say nothing), and after his father is attacked at Christmas they stop exchanging letters all together.
It's for the best, he knows. Dumbledore warned him before taking this assignment that cutting off all contact would be a real possibility. But the silence is the worst part of it all. His only solution is to distract himself with his dragons, which earns him several more scars to impress Ginny with when he finally goes home again.
He tries not let himself wonder if he'll ever go home again.
VI.
Upon seeing the list of budget cuts (most of them in terms of security) the sanctuary will be taking in the next year, Charlie decides the new Minister is really not that much of an improvement.
For Merlin's sake, does the man not realize he has three Aurors here, working undercover? Charlie knows, their names were smuggled to him by Dumbledore so he would know who to trust.
He understands that security measures are probably being tightened on the home front, but handicapping your own troops, putting them closer to the line of fire than is necessary…
He scowls, rubs his jaw in irritation. He's too distracted to shave these days, which means his whole face is either freckled or looks like a bonfire. The giants in the Southern Carpathian Mountains are holding out again, even though Charlie is smuggling away all of the dragon hide and blood he can possibly get away with to bribe them into sharing whenever the Death Eaters come to call.
Which, incidentally, has been increasingly often these past few months.
Dumbledore may be a bizarre eccentric, but he's smart, and he knew that the enemy would be taking this beyond the borders of Britain without as much as a by-your-leave. That crazed maniac wants global domination, and it's thanks to Dumbledore that the Order of the Phoenix got to Romania first, since the British Ministry of Magic has proved itself to be utterly useless so far.
Oh, the Aurors placed here at the sanctuary wouldn't betray Charlie, of that he's certain. But they're also a couple of dimwits; he's never missed Tonks so badly in his life.
He feels increasingly trapped and alone, and it just gets worse when word comes that Dumbledore is dead. He doesn't know who his reports are going to, but he knows it matters that he sends them.
So he does.
/
His father shows up in the dead of night soon after that, and Charlie actually cries into his shoulder.
"Charlie, you've got to come home," Arthur says. "It's not safe here, anymore."
"It was never safe," Charlie reminds him, putting the kettle on. "And I can't leave now. They'll burn the sanctuary to the ground."
"What, do you think one wizard will stop them?"
"No," Charlie smirks, hands his dad the cream and leans his chair back on two legs. "But one wizard leading a bunch of really pissed off dragons might make them rethink their options."
Arthur sighs. "I'm not going to tell your mother you said that."
"Good idea; she'd come here next and honestly I can't handle her and the dragons." Charlie drops his chair back down with a thump. "Dad, I can't leave. The job's only half finished."
"You're on your own," Arthur says heavily. "The Aurors have been called back home."
"I was as good as on my own anyway," Charlie shrugs. "I took the job knowing that."
Arthur hums, and Charlie can tell that the way this conversation is going isn't surprising him.
"Perce come round?"
His father hesitates; Charlie scoffs, wishing he'd beaten Ron to the punch that awful day in the Burrow's kitchen.
"Not yet," is Arthur's eventual reply. The hope and hurt tangled together in his voice makes Charlie's chest ache.
"Everyone all right?"
Arthur stares at him, as though asking himself if he's really going to let his son stay here, in such danger. He knows it's a lost cause, because he shakes his head ruefully.
"Yes, except Bill had a run-in with Fenir Greyback the night Dumbledore died."
Charlie nearly drops his mug. "Merlin, Dad, lead with that next time, won't you?"
"He's fine," Arthur assures him. "Greyback wasn't transformed. Bill's face is heavily scarred, but he wasn't bitten."
Charlie takes a deep breath, trying to get his heart rate under control.
"And the others?"
"All fine. Ginny and Harry split up, so she's not been herself."
"Hang on," Charlie can feel his first grin in months coming on. "Split up?"
"Yes, they dated for quite a bit of the last term. But – " Arthur frowns at his empty mug. "Er…this is a very long story, do you – ?"
Charlie obliges with firewhiskey, which helps ease the ache with every item of family news he's missed since going dark.
Bill is getting married (Charlie vows to be there, even if You-Know-Who himself comes to the sanctuary).
Fred and George have at last opened their joke shop, and are rolling in gold.
Ron had his own romance troubles this past term, and also nearly died from accidental poisoning only for Harry to save him (Charlie hides his snort; bloody typical).
Ginny, apparently, has got the Chosen One wrapped around her little finger. Only said Chosen One doesn't want to put her in danger, and so they've parted ways and now his baby sister is practically a whole continent away, nursing a broken heart and Charlie can't do one thing about it.
Yet, he tells himself. He'll sit with her while she drinks herself silly after Bill's wedding in a couple of months.
Arthur tries once more to get him to leave, but eventually just hugs him close again.
"Be careful, son." He holds the side of Charlie's face for a moment. "Please be careful."
"I will," Charlie promises, refusing to let himself cry again.
It only lasts until his father leaves. Then, Charlie slides down to sit against the closed door, and sobs until his throat is raw.
VII.
Charlie is tackled in the yard by Ginny and the twins. It hurts a lot more than he remembers it ever having done before.
"Look at that bush!" George says, sitting on Charlie's chest and looking scandalized. "You look like a wild man, Charles. Entirely inappropriate for our dear brother's wedding."
Charlie squints up at him, spits Ginny's hair out of his mouth. "What in the name of Circe's tits happened to your ear?"
"Well, I puzzled for months about what to get Harry for his seventeenth birthday, but turns out a severed ear wasn't on his wish list." George helps Charlie to his feet, and frowns when Fred nudges him.
"Oi," Fred says warningly. Harry, Ron and Hermione have come around the house from the chicken coop. All three of them are discussing something very seriously, until Ron spots him.
"Charlie!"
Charlie tries not to feel shocked by how much weight Ron's put on. He's still thin, but he's definitely no longer scrawny. Charlie hugs Hermione too, and catches his baby brother giving her a look of such adoration that it's a wonder the twins don't call him on it.
Harry has changed a great deal as well, which is expected and yet also hard to see. He's a good deal taller, standing just a few inches shy of Ron. There's a determination to him, a hardness to the set of his shoulders that tells Charlie this kid hasn't forgotten about the war, regardless of impending wedding festivities.
Charlie only smiles, and lets his mother bemoan the state of his hair and beard, and unpacks in his old room, now shared with the twins. He pulls a clean shirt out of his knapsack and grins at the stain on the wall above his bed, left by one of Fred and George's earlier experiments.
It's good to be home.
/
Bill has, as Charlie delights in informing him, married up.
Fleur is beautiful, obviously, but her blue eyes shine with intelligence and when she answers Fred's teasing with a witty remark of her own, Charlie can no longer hide his approval.
"She's great."
Bill hums happily, watching his wife converse with guests. "Yeah."
"Giving up the tombs of Egypt, then?" Charlie means it as teasing, but Bill's expression sobers, still watching Fleur.
"Not really giving anything up, you know? I loved it, I did it, I finished it and I came home. Now I've got something better."
Charlie wonders if it could ever be that simple for him. He knows it can't, not at least until the war is over.
"You all right, Charlie?"
He startles, realizing he's been staring into his drink. "Yeah."
At Bill's speculative look, he shrugs. "Just…missed a lot, being gone for so long. Still trying to regain my balance."
His brother nods, before noticing something over Charlie's shoulder that makes him smile.
Charlie smiles too, when he turns and sees Ginny dancing in very peculiar way next to an equally peculiar looking girl dressed in bright yellow.
"She okay?"
Bill hums. "Yeah. Harry's taken it almost as hard as she did. He's rather smitten."
Charlie smirks. "You know, she told me the first thing she noticed about him was that he had awfully nice eyes."
Bill laughs, the scars on his face fading momentarily. "We'll have to remember that one."
"We will," Charlie agrees. He points at Bill. "You'd better make sure that's used in a speech at their wedding, if I don't get the chance to be there."
Bill's smile vanishes like a puff of wind, and Charlie wants to kick himself for souring the mood.
"Charlie – "
"I mean, if I'm not back from Romania yet or a dragon breaks loose of the sanctuary or something else work-related happens."
Slowly, Bill nods, his brow furrowing as he undoubtedly picks up on the panicked edge to Charlie's voice.
"Right. "
Charlie stares at him a moment longer, and hears the music change. "I'm gonna go dance with Gin."
He claps his brother's shoulder, kisses Fleur on the cheek, and works his way through the crowd.
Ginny beams at him. "Charlie, this is my friend Luna Lovegood. Luna, my brother Charlie."
Charlie remembers the name from a letter that feels like it was sent decades ago. "Very nice to meet you, Luna."
"Hello," she responds dreamily, still waving her arms above her head. "Would you like to join me? This is the traditional mating dance of the Eastern Long-Haired Demiguise."
"Er…" Charlie blinks. "I think I'll just steal my sister for a dance, if that's all right."
"Oh of course. Have fun Ginny!" Luna floats away, smiling as she continues to wave her arms about.
Ginny giggles. "She's really nice."
"I don't doubt it," he says, leading her over to a spot where they can hear each other better. "Anyone who dances like that in public without shame is worth knowing, in my opinion."
She smooths his robes over his shoulder. "You look nice, Charlie. Better without the beard."
"It was itchy," he agrees. "And you look better than nice, Gin. Harry hasn't been able to keep his eyes off you all night."
To his horror, Ginny's face crumples momentarily before she pulls herself back together.
"Aw, Ginny – "
"I love him, Charlie."
Those big brown eyes are wide open, and he can see the truth in them.
"Which is why this hurts so much," she admits softly.
He knows what it's cost her to say that – growing up, before they knew better, the twins and Ron were always quick to tease her for crying over small injuries. Never mind the fact that they were in always hysterics over every scraped knee; no, she was the youngest and the only girl and they had to have their target practice. The result was Ginny never admitting something hurt, even if it was serious. She sprained her ankle one day, de-gnoming the garden, and nobody knew until their mother noticed the discoloring the next morning.
So Ginny acknowledging her pain…
It just makes him hurt for her more.
"I'm sorry, Gin." He squeezes her hand. "It'll be all right in the end."
"You don't know that," she whispers. He looks at her, his baby sister a woman grown, and knows his days of feeding her reassuring half-truths are gone.
"No, I don't. But I hope for it, and that's better than nothing, right?"
She gives him a searching, quizzical look, opens her mouth to say something –
A silver Patronus appears in the middle of the dance floor. The moments after Kingsley's voice fades away are charged with a fear so strong it sits like iron on his tongue. Charlie catches his father's eye over the crowd and nods.
He turns to Ginny. "I'm sorry," he tells her, squeezing her shoulders. "Be safe, okay? And don't give up hope."
He presses a quick kiss to her forehead, and slips outside, sprinting away from the screams and sounds of breaking glass, until he reaches the barrier and Apparates away from the place he wants to be more than anywhere else.
/
The dragons are happy to see him back, anyway. That's something.
Somehow, though, his days of paperwork and tending sick dragons are unbearably lonely when he returns. He thinks he might be going mad – starved for contact with his family for so long, then to have them all so close for a few precious days, and now to be isolated once more, only this time with no end in sight…
He tries not to think about what might have happened at the Burrow after he left. His imagination won't do him any favors and it's not like there's much he can do about it anyway.
As the war takes turn after turn for the worse, the dragons become ever more irritable and stroppy. He spends nearly all of his off time slathering burn paste all over himself like some kind of greenie.
Sometime around Christmas, a message comes from the Order (they're rare now, but he knows they'll come eventually, otherwise he wouldn't stay). He rereads the message about Potterwatch several times in disbelief, and stares at the small wireless radio in the attached parcel, wishing he knew who the sender was so he could cry over them, kiss them, thank them, something to express what it means that he'll be able to hear familiar voices here in his exile.
/
The Death Eaters come just after Easter.
Only, as it turns out, they're not here for the dragons.
Charlie realizes this when a Killing Curse misses his head by centimeters; he looks at the smoking crater in the wall next to him in disbelief, then in outrage.
Dueling isn't something he's highly trained in, but he's always had quick reflexes and a tendency to keep getting back up. His opponent doesn't last long, which gives Charlie a few precious minutes to spring to his cabin. Everything that could possibly connect him to his family or the Order has either been destroyed or sent to Bill for safe keeping.
He has a bag ready; he snatches it and his wireless and slams the back door behind him even as footfalls pound on his front steps. He has to dodge more than one curse as he runs, but he makes it past the barrier – only just – and Disapparates.
His last glimpse of the sanctuary is one with the Dark Mark hovering in the sky above.
/
He sticks to the eastern mountains; there are some nasty breeds of wild dragons out this way that will deter any search parties from getting too close.
Of course, that means Charlie has to put up with wild dragons who want nothing more than to eat him, but he's highly trained in dealing with that and so he sticks with his comfort zone.
Weeks blur into months, the dragon eggs begin hatching, and Charlie hunkers in a cave with his radio one spring evening, twiddling the dial until he hits the right station.
He nearly drops the wireless into his cookfire.
"If you're listening," Fred says calmly, "you need to know that it's happening tonight. You-Know-Who and his army have gathered outside Hogwarts, and we're all headed that way to join the fight. If you're interested, Apparate into the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade. The barkeep will show you the way. Be careful, they're still patrolling the village."
The wireless screeches quietly, then goes silent.
Charlie stares at the fire, his meager dinner of pheasant roasting in the heat. He shrugs the blanket off his shoulders, feeling as though he is suddenly a very old man.
Woodenly, he dumps a bucket of snow onto the fire, crams the last of his berries from his latest trip down the mountain into his mouth, and leaves his prison with a joyous crack.
/
His parents both sob openly – so does he – when he runs through the door.
"Oh Charlie dear," his mother pats his face, his arms, as though to make certain he is really all here and not a figment of her imagination. Satisfied, her gaze returns to his, and she frowns. "Dear, you really must get a haircut when this is all over – "
"Mum, you can shave me bald if you like, I'm so happy to see you I don't care." Charlie bends, wraps his arms tight around her, and lifts her off the ground slightly.
He turns from his father's embrace next, stopping short in surprise.
"Erm…hello." Percy shift awkwardly.
Charlie stares. "Finally cottoned on, did you?"
"Yes," Percy says, looking down at his feet. Charlie suddenly feels lighter than he ever remembers feeling before.
"Good." And he pulls Percy in for a bear hug, complete with a very whiskery, smacking-loud kiss on the cheek that makes everyone laugh.
The sound of that laughter, the peace that comes from simply being with the ones he loves, are some of the reasons Charlie survives the night. He's certain of that.
Another reason he makes it through is that he nearly barrels into Tonks at one point, and he cries again when she shows him photographs of her son.
It turns out to be good timing on his part; when the cease-fire is called, he returns from the courtyard, half-carrying a Ravenclaw student with a badly broken leg. He hands him off to Pomfrey and turns back to the double doors to go look for more survivors.
He stops dead in his tracks when he sees that mop of electric purple hair, lying so still and pale beneath the enchanted ceiling – the ceiling that he used to sneak out at night to look at with her, lying atop the House tables and making up their own constellations…
"Charlie?"
Dimly, he turns to see Ginny. He thinks she might have been calling his name for a while; he pushes Tonks and her newly orphaned child to the back of his mind when he sees the look on his sister's face.
"What is it, Gin?"
She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out but a strangled sob. His heart is like a block of ice in his chest.
"Gin, what is it?"
"Fred," she gasps, one trembling hand reaching for him. He takes it, without really registering the feel of her holding onto him. He notices the group of redheads in the back of the room, huddled together in disbelief and sorrow.
Charlie joins George on the floor, kneeling beside Fred's pale face. At first he thinks George feels the same way he does – numb and frozen solid to his very core. But after a moment or two George reaches out shaking hand to rest on Fred's shoulder. Suddenly George is doubled over, sobbing so hard he can scarcely draw breath.
Charlie does what he has always done for his siblings – he holds him close, though he knows it is not enough, and simply lets him weep.
/
Charlie doesn't remember much after that, except for random, often fuzzy details.
He remembers there was another bout of fighting, during which his mother further solidified her place as the single most terrifying yet amazing person he has ever known in his life.
He remembers Ginny's awful scream when she saw Harry's body.
He remembers the look of sheer relief on Harry's bloodied, gaunt face, shining in the dawn's first light.
He remembers sitting at the table in the aftermath, watching as Ron pressed a tired kiss to Hermione's temple.
The last gives him an indescribable amount of peace. Stuff like that's what they fought for, he thinks while treating himself to a heartier breakfast than he's had in months. He shovels an enormous mouthful of toast and marmalade in, and looks up to see his father smiling. Not a true smile, it doesn't go all the way up to his eyes. But it's there in part at least, and Charlie will take what he can get.
"What are you going to do now?" his father asks.
Charlie considers. He hadn't really thought that far, but in this moment only one thing sounds remotely appealing to him.
"I'm going to petition the new Minister of Magic to open up our own dragon sanctuary right here in Britain."
Delight shines in Arthur's eyes. "Are you really?"
Charlie nods. "I've had my fill of being away from home," he says quietly. He knows all the things about his past few months pass, unspoken, between them – the four or five very close scrapes with the wild dragons, the times he nearly lost toes to frostbite, the constant ache of hunger…
"I'm sure Kingsley will be all ears," Arthur replies, his eyes wordlessly offering a listening ear should Charlie need it.
Charlie nods, in response to both messages "I'll try to get his attention tomorrow. For now, though…"
He drains his teacup, and leans over to call two or three seats down.
"Hey Mum, could I have a haircut?"
/
I'm so hugely, immensely sorry, this was supposed to be a quick little one-shot like thing and instead it's...this *gestures vaguely*
