Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: Thank you so very much for all of the reviews and encouragement. Even though this isn't QUITE as long as the last chapter, it certainly sets up an interesting next one. Please continue to review. It makes me want to write even faster.

This one was going to be harder. This child had always been harder. Bill had been an easy baby, eager to please and smile whenever his parents did. But Charlie had been fussy and prickly, and that hadn't changed much. The only person who'd ever really been able to get through to him had been Bill, but there was no way either Molly or Arthur would even consider asking Bill to be there for this. He seemed to be handling this just fine, but neither of his parents was convinced that this was actually the case.

Molly sent the owl to Hogwarts early in the morning, knowing that Charlie was far more likely to have plans than Bill, but she received his reply mere moments later and sighed with relief. He was free, and he would be there at 6. Walking into the kitchen, she waved his reply in Arthur's direction, and he looked at her questioningly.

"Charlie," she said as she cast the parchment onto the table. "He'll be here at 6. This time, let's make sure we eat first. It would probably be the best shot we'd have of him not flying off the handle."

Arthur nodded. If there were one thing everyone in the family knew about Charlie, it was that the best way to tame him was through his mother's cooking. If he were hungry, he bore a frightening resemblance to the dragons he used to train.

There was silence for a moment, which Molly broke when she said softly, "I'm – I don't know we're going to say this without him …" She trailed off, but Arthur understood. He got out of his seat and approached her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"We're just going to have to say it as calmly as possible," he murmured in her ear, and she relaxed against him, secure in the safety of his arms. What would she do without this…? She blinked hard. She couldn't think about that right now. It wouldn't help either of them.

"Ok," she said abruptly. She moved away from Arthur and began fiddling with her spices. "I need to figure out what I'm making tonight."

For a moment, Arthur watched her straight back and the unkempt bun in her hair. Realizing after a few minutes that she wasn't going to turn around again, he sighed.

"I'm going to go lie down," he said quietly and left the room. If she did turn around now, he didn't want to see her face.

Charlie arrived promptly at 6 and was clearly surprised to find he was the only one invited to dinner.

"Hi Mum," he said grinning, walking over to kiss her hello. She forced herself to smile back. Dinner, get through dinner, kept echoing through her mind.

"Come sit," she urged. "Your father will be in as soon as he's finished washing up."

He obediently took his customary seat at the table and found his mouth watering.

"Smells delicious," he said, and Molly smiled as she sent plates soaring to the table.

"So how have things been at Hogwarts? Are the magical creatures behaving themselves for Hagrid?"

Charlie laughed and predictably launched into stories of Hagrid's most recent classes, which kept them both entertained until Arthur joined them. Dinner passed pleasantly, and Arthur and Molly were surprised to find that they were even able to enjoy themselves. They were even able to mislead themselves into thinking that maybe this boded well for the after dinner conversation.

They had moved into the living room, and Arthur had taken up residence in his customary arm chair while Molly joined Charlie on the couch. For a moment, there was silence, and that was when Charlie looked back and forth between his parents.

"Is everything ok?" he asked. They looked at each other. It was time.

"Charlie," Arthur said slowly, spreading his hands across his knees. "Your mother and I have something we need to talk to you about."

He looked at Molly, and she nodded. He would need to just come right out and say it. With Charlie, there was no such thing as hesitation. If they didn't get straight to the point, they just got frustrated, and the last any of them needed right now was to add frustration to the mix.

"I had an appointment at St. Mungo's yesterday. I'd been having headaches, so we went to make sure it wasn't anything serious. But – well, we didn't get the news we'd been hoping for. I don't know if you've ever heard of the muggle term 'tumor,' but that's apparently what I have. The healer – well she said I have a few months."

He let out an explosive breath but was surprised to find that it was almost easier saying it all at once like that. It did not, however, look like any of that was at all easy for Charlie to understand. He was staring at his father very much like Arthur assumed he once looked at Hungarian Horntails – like they possessed a danger to his own well being. He shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't a good sign.

Molly put her hand on Charlie's shoulder, but he shrugged it off impatiently.

"What did you mean when you said you had a few months," he asked stiffly, sounding very much like he was biting off each word.

Molly shot Arthur a look, indicating that she would give this a try. "It means," she said quietly, "that the healer said the prognosis is – well, it's fatal." Her voice trembled, and she swallowed hard. But Charlie wouldn't look at her. He wouldn't look at his father either. He stared at his lap for a moment before he finally looked up again.

"You're going to get a second opinion, of course," he said, his voice brittle, but Arthur shook his head slowly, unsurprised by the flash of anger in his son's eyes.

"No, Charlie, we're not. We've discussed this. The healer – well, she showed us the results. This isn't a mistake. There's no reason to speak to anyone else."

Charlie's laughter sounded nothing like it normally did, and now he stood, running his hands through his hair and glaring at his mother and father.

"I'm glad you discussed it," he said, his voice rising. "I'm glad the rest of us don't get a say in these life or death decisions that you're making." He was shouting now. He turned as if to leave, but then something seemed to occur to him, and he turned back. His body was trembling but whether with rage or another emotion he wouldn't admit to, his parents couldn't be sure.

"Who else knows," he demanded accusingly, and Arthur said evenly, "We told Bill and Fleur last night. We've decided to tell each of you alone and in chronological order. So please don't say anything to the others yet. We'll let you know once it's ok."

Charlie spun from his mother to his father and back again, seemingly at a loss for words. Then, without warning, he turned and raced out the door. He suddenly couldn't bear to look at either of them. He had to get to Shell Cottage.