A/N: And I'm back! The creative juices have slowly started flowing again. Other updates to come soon.
No matter what happens, Charlie thinks, as he watches her inexorable approach, he will not shout at Great Auntie Muriel.
Charlie knows that Bill can tell. He knows that Ginny probably can, too. But no one else expects this to be as hard for him as it is for everyone else, and Great Auntie Muriel is certainly at the top of that ridiculous list. So he's determined to do two things. He won't look at Bill – or at Ginny – and he won't shout at Great Auntie Muriel.
Some things make it hard, though. First of all, as much as Bill thinks he, himself, is hiding it, no one can miss how much he's struggling to keep it together. When he figured out how to hold his wand steady, it couldn't have been clearer to any of them that this would be the least of his problems (even though Charlie knew he was hoping that this would be the worst of them.)
But he can't think about Bill now. (Or George.) Doing that makes Charlie's chest feel tight, and that is not at all comfortable with Great Auntie Muriel on the very near horizon. So he doesn't look at either of them, and he stays in the corner, concentrating on breathing evenly.
This won't be hard. The hardest part is over. It has to be. They levitated the – the thing – and they had to lower it into the ground, for Merlin's sake, and then they had to stand there while that little old wizard spoke, and then Dad tried to speak and – and George… Charlie shakes his head. No. He can't let himself relive any of that now. Or ever. Preferably ever.
He looks around the Burrow to avoid looking at his Great Aunt. Ithasalways seemed crowded, but now, even with people seemingly coming out of the walls, for Godric's sake, it feels inexplicably empty. There's not one person here he wants to talk to. (He wishes she would take that hint, but no, she keeps coming.) He wants them all to leave. What's the point, anyhow, of all of these people standing around, covering them with even more sadness? Like they don't already have enough on their own? This isn't helping.
Charlie wants to go outside to get some air, but it's too late now because she's standing before him. He grits his teeth. He will listen to whatever she says and not shout at her. He won't.
"Hello, Charlie," she says, and her voice is as strident as it's ever been. He plasters a smile on his face which surely must more closely resemble a grimace as he bends forward to kiss her cheek.
"Hello, Auntie" he says, his voice sounding rusty even in his own ears.
She scrutinizes him closely. "You're not with your brothers or your sister," she notes.
Charlie shakes his head. No. He isn't. And he's not about to explain why. But he knows he can count on her to ask the questions that any tactful person most certainly would not.
"Why not?" she demands. "Don't you think they might need you now?"
Charlie clamps his lips together and shakes his head slightly. Her eyes widen incredulously.
"Well, you're wrong," she huffs. "Of course they need you. You're their brother. I'd think that with only six of you left, you'd want to stay together as much as possible."
Charlie's eyes widen and his mouth opens as the air goes roaring out of him. His stomach starts to hurt, and he swallows hard. No, he won't shout at Great Auntie Muriel. Because, for the first time in his life, she's left him speechless.