A/N: So it took me exactly a month to get this out. Although February's the shortest month of the year, so technically it's not as bad as it could've been, right? :D ... Okay, so that was a lame attempt at making an excuse for lack of updates. All I can really do is say I'm sorry, and tell you that with spring break coming up maybe the next update will come a little sooner. Also a quick thank you to the people who continue to review; I love you eversomuch and you keep me going. The end. :)
Charlie:
The next night, I can tell Skylar's up to something. It's got to do with that mischievous smile, I think. And she keeps glancing over to a corner table, at a girl with purple hair.
After a while I recognize the girl – Nymphadora Tonks. My parents know her. But what in Merlin's name could Skylar be doing that involves her?
x x x
Skylar:
It's an ingenious plan, really. I nearly spill it to Tonks every time I bring her a drink, but I know that it'll work best if I leave it a surprise to both of them.
Now I just have to wait for Remus – oh, he just walked in. Right on time, too!
He comes up to the bar and asks for a butterbeer. Good, he's not in one of those hopeless moods. This will work in my favor. I serve him his drink.
Here's where my plan comes into play.
I walk over to Tonks' table, smiling. It's making her nervous. She clearly remembers my threat from last night. Luckily, she didn't see Remus walk in.
"Hey, Tonks. I need you to help me out behind the bar for a couple minutes while I go ask Charlie something."
"Me? Can't you ask Tommy to do it?"
Tommy chose this moment to conveniently disappear. I had nothing to do with it, I swear.
"I don't know where he went."
She gives me another suspicious look, but sees no immediate danger, and sighs resignedly. "Fine."
I walk her up to the bar and promptly leave her as soon as she sees Remus sitting there with his butterbeer.
I watch the scene play out from the back room, hoping it doesn't backfire on me.
x x x
Charlie:
When I see Skylar scramble into the back room as I'm taking inventory (again), I instantly know that whatever evil plot she's been planning is being carried out at this moment. So of course I sneak up behind her to watch.
"Tonks?" A faded, vaguely familiar man is saying.
The purple-haired girl stares back at him, anxiety evident on her face. She's obviously not ready for this.
"Um. Hi, Remus."
He cracks a smile. "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you since the last… meeting. How've you been?"
"Good." She blinks.
It's getting awkward fast, and I don't think Remus is a skilled conversation-saver. Just as he's about to turn away and carry on with his drink, however, Tonks seems to remember something. And then she takes a chance.
She sits beside him.
He's a bit startled by this and sets the bottle back down. She folds her hands on the table; unfolds them; twiddles her thumbs.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, Remus," she says carefully.
At this point Skylar claps her hands together, a bright smile lighting up her face. Clearly she knows what's coming.
Remus is watching Tonks' expression, urging her to continue without actually saying a word.
She decides to take advantage of this and just throws it all out at once, before she loses her nerve.
"Remus-I've-loved-you-ever-since-we-first-met-and-I-tripped-over-your-scruffy-leather-shoes-and-looked-up-and-met-your-eyes-and-you-laughed-instead-of-getting-mad-like-everyone-else-always-did."
He blinks. She takes a deep breath and pales as he holds his silence.
And then he leans over, and kisses her on the cheek. She goes red, and as she does he starts to talk, gently mimicking her previous tone of voice.
"Tonks-I've-loved-you-ever-since-the-day-we-met-and-you-tripped-on-my-shoes-and-said-it-was-an-accident-even-though-the-moment-you-looked-up-I-knew-you'd-done-it-on-purpose."
Skylar claps her hand over her mouth; apparently overcome with how well everything worked out. I bite back my own smile and we slowly creep away, leaving Tonks and Remus to their own devices.
x x x
Skylar:
Charlie never brings up the Tonks/Remus situation. There's no need to, really; he was there, he saw it all happen. Neither of us stops smiling about it for a while.
A few slow days follow the incident. Some days Tommy doesn't even come; people just trickle in and out. Tonight's just another night like that, I guess; me and Charlie sit down at one of the tables and proceed to engage in a ferocious Exploding Snap tournament, in which he beats me seven times out of ten.
I've just challenged him to an eleventh round when someone suddenly barges unexpectedly through the door. I turn, slightly worried, half-wondering if I'll see Flint. Instead, a tall redhead meets my eyes. True, he does look a bit pompous and nerdy, but he must be a Weasley, right? Isn't that a good thing? I glance over at Charlie, who just stood up, waiting for him to run over and embrace his relative.
Things happen a bit differently than I expect. For one thing, Charlie's mouth tightens into one thin line, like it always does when he's angry. And for another thing, he walks right over to this new Weasley and punches him square in the face.
It happens in a cliché sort of slow motion, like all fistfights do. His fist lashing out; the other Weasley's head thrown back by the sheer force.
This fistfight's different, however, in that the other Weasley does not so much as raise a finger to defend himself. Instead, he pertly adjusts his spectacles, sniffs dramatically, wipes blood from his nose, and spitefully glares at Charlie.
"Now, now, Charles. Let's be civilized. We're both adults."
x x x
Charlie:
So yeah, I haven't actually been back to the Burrow very often since graduating Hogwarts. But I know enough. And Percy had that coming. I just wish he could've been a real Weasley and given me a real fight. Right now I'd be better with my fists than with my words.
"What are you doing here, Percy?" I spit out.
He looks at me imploringly. Part of me knows that Skylar is watching intently, and she'll bombard me with questions later, but right now I just want to hear what this weasel has to say.
"Join me."
He sounds like Vold – uh, He Who Must Not Be Named – beckoning to his circle of Death Eaters. I stare.
"Join you in what?"
"The Ministry. Of Magic," he adds for emphasis, like I didn't know that already. I'm still lost. He shifts his weight impatiently.
"Charles," my brother continues, "You can't possibly believe what Dumbledore and that nutcase Potter are saying, can you? You Know Who is just as dormant as ever. They're obviously attempting to discredit the Ministry, and it isn't going to work."
I half-turn away, bored by his talk of politics. I went to Romania for a reason. "Percy, none of this has anything to do with me – "
"Look, Charlie," Percy interrupts. "I know Mum must've told you about the row I had with them. Dad's still supporting the old crackpot, and I can't have anymore of it. That's why I want you on my side. If there's one more Weasley brother against them, maybe we can make them see sense…"
I don't care if the Dark Lord's back or not, but if Dad believes it, I'll believe it. If Dad believes pigs can fly, so do I. That's just the way it works in the Weasley family.
Obviously Percy isn't actually related to me.
I look down. "Get out."
He's a bit more urgent now. "Charlie, please, listen – "
I gesture pointedly at the door. "Get out before I give you another black eye!"
Obviously remembering the punch, my so-called brother makes a hasty retreat without so much as a goodbye. Not that I was asking for one.
Suddenly out of breath and frustrated, I sit back down at me and Skylar's little table, hoping we can continue without a word and I can just take out my anger on Exploding Snap. It doesn't go like I planned.
"What's all this about You Know Who?" Skylar asks me quietly.
I look up, shock registering faintly when I see how pale she is. I slide my firewhisky across the table to her, hoping to bring the color back into her cheeks with alcohol, but she declines.
"What was he saying about You Know Who?" she repeats.
"Does it really matter?" I'm tired and frustrated and filled with rage against my brother and all other pompous redheads with glasses in the world. I'm not in any mood to discuss an evil psychopathic maniac with anyone.
Her voice, if possible, gets even quieter.
"Actually, it does." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, like the air's getting stuck in her lungs. "He's the reason my best friend is dead."
