This is written for the Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments) forum, specifically for Assignment #3 Muggle Studies: Gadgets and Gizmos; Task 1: Vacuuming Shoes - Write about finding something out about someone else.
The thing about running is that once you start, it's easy to keep going and hard to stop. Charlie knows this, just as he knows the dryness of Romania's weather, the heat of a dragon's fire, the low rasp of a friend's laughter.
But you have to stop—one day. You can't run forever, no matter how much you want to. Or maybe you can, so long as you're willing to leave everything behind. Charlie can't do that. When nothing else is certain, he can always rely on his family, trust in them. They're prickly and flawed and make mistakes, yet they're kind and gentle and just want the best for him. They might not know what it is, but they're there for him regardless.
And Charlie repays them by running away.
Except, not quite, because Charlie was chasing his dreams full of dragons. He ran by going to Romania. He ran by staying in Romania. He's grown since then. Changed. Because once upon a time he would've fought anyone who called him a coward for running, would refuse to believe he ever would run. He's a Gryffindor, after all, and belongs to a long line of Gryffindors. Gryffindors didn't run; they were brave.
But that's not exactly true. You can outgrow being a Gryffindor, change from the stereotype the house tries to place you in. Charlie's done that. It's not about being a Gryffindor and it certainly doesn't matter outside of the United Kingdom. It's about who you are and what you do.
Charlie runs from his family and it doesn't seem like running. They certainly don't seem to pick up on it. He sends them messages and gets replies and shares his mother's fudge with his co-workers. He laughs and smiles and lives—in Romania, with his friends, with the dragons, with contentment. It's very different from anything he has ever known, but there are similarities.
The most important thing that comes from Charlie's first years of living without his family is an understanding of himself. It's about learning to love yourself for who you are and trust that you will be alright.
It's probably the most important lesson he's ever learnt—that you deserve your own love and the love that others give you.
And, when the time comes for it, it's what helps him stop running for once and plant his feet in the ground. Loving yourself, trusting yourself, and believing in yourself. So Charlie gathers himself, gathers his confidence, his hope, his stubbornness, and organises a trip to Egypt alongside the rest of his family.
The fare is a bit more expensive than Charlie would like and his mother would probably screech herself hoarse at the fact he accepts some help—some charity—from his friends. But they're friends and he knows he'll pay them back in time. They know it too.
Egypt is dry like Romania, like home, but it lacks the dragons that Charlie's used to. Still, it's easy to smile at his family and laugh and joke with them. It's easy to open his arms wide and give them each a hug. He's missed them, but he's loved living apart from them too. It's a strange juxtaposition and not one he can make sense of. Still, they're here and he's here and that's all that really matters.
On the fourth day of their trip, Charlie finally gets the moment he's been waiting for. The majority of his family have gone to some tomb, Ginny left behind because of all the "gruesome" things that she definitely couldn't see at her age and Bill agreeing to remain behind since the tomb's more of a tourist destination than anything else. Charlie sticks with them, nerves tingling in anxiety.
Almost an hour into it, he can't hold the words anymore—doesn't want to hold the words anymore. He wants to know their thoughts, want to know whether he's right to trust them, to trust his family to stay steady, to stay loving.
"Hey," he says into the quiet of their room, causing Bill to look up from where he's flicking through some magazine and Ginny finally stops stomping around angrily. "I don't think I like anyone romantically. Or sexually for that matter," he announces, words clear.
Bill flicks to the next page in his magazine. "Well, you both know I'm willing to fall in love with men or women," he replies, which is true. Charlie still remembers the screaming match Bill had had with their mother in his fourth year. Something about needing to get himself into a good relationship with a nice girl and Bill shouting back that he was rather happy in his six-month relationship with a fellow wizard. It hadn't taken long for their mother to apologise and Charlie probably should've expected Bill's easy acceptance, but—well—he'd worried anyway.
Meanwhile, Ginny's eyes flick between them and she settles, somewhat carefully, against Charlie. "I can fall in love with anyone," she says, more challenging than anything else, and Charlie loves her for it. This fierce-hearted girl with flaming hair, who dares to live as she does, who challenges where it might've been easier to submit, who refuses to swallow her anger and her words.
So, Charlie tugs playfully on her braid, which Bill had completed earlier, before shrugging. "I just love people, you know. They can be so good and so kind. And… And I just fall in love, a little bit, with everyone. Like seeing someone laughing in the rain because it's raining. How can you not love that?"
At last, Bill looks to them, the siblings he's closest to despite all odds. "You know we'll love you no matter what Charlie, don't you?"
The words catch in Charlie's throat and when he swallows, it seems dry. Struggling, he manages to say, "It should be obvious, right?"
Ginny leans a little bit more into his side, comforting and grounding in equal measure. "You're allowed to have doubts," she says. His littlest sibling who seems to be greater than all of them. "We can't nag you for that."
"And I certainly didn't mean to," Bill adds, leaving his magazine behind to meet Charlie's eyes. "We love you and you shouldn't have need to doubt that. But, if you do, then you just have to let us remind you. I'm bisexual and love men and women. Ginny can fall in love with anyone. You don't feel romantic or sexual attraction. It's as simple as that. We are perfect just the way we are. There's nothing wrong with us in the slightest."
Charlie laughs, the sound ripping itself from his throat. It's light with relief and gratitude and love. "Yeah," he says, grinning and full of so much love that he thinks he could burst from it.
Later, he will tell his whole family and things will be fine. Bill and Ginny will stand at his shoulders and have his back like they always have. The twins will joke with him and elbow him and treat him as nothing's changed. His mother will ask questions and have that confused look on her face but support him and cook him fudge. His father will nod and pat him on the head and ask him about muggle technology and nothing will have changed. Ron will nod and say nothing else and it's exactly what Charlie would have expected. Percy won't say anything, but—in a month—Charlie will receive a painting of two dragons, one purple-white-grey-black and the other black-grey-white-light-green-dark-green.
When he returns to Romania, it'll seem like nothing has changed. Except everything has and Charlie has finally stopped running.
Hopefully this clarifies as finding something out about someone, since the Weasley Family finds out about Charlie being ace and aro. I don't know whether it focussed on it enough and it's not my best bit of writing. But that's okay. I got this written and that's the main thing right now.