Task 5: Write about someone with a special skill
Cabin Rule: (Family) The Weasley's
Prompt: (quote) What you do today is important, because you're exchanging a day of your life for it.
WC: 1168
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Charlie laughed as he stepped out of the Floo from the gentle rolling hills of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary into the general chaos of the Burrow. A pack of children thundered past him and he stepped to one side with a practiced grace, raising his arms up to keep the bundle he held safe from their trailing elbows.
"Hello, Uncle Charlie!" Lily Luna skidded to an uncoordinated stop, catching herself on the doorframe to the kitchen and beamed up at him. There was an eyecatching gap in her teeth and Charlie couldn't stop himself from pressing his tongue into his corresponding tooth as he grinned back. "What's the package?"
The sound of several other children skidding to a stop reached them — their shoes skidding across the tiled floor of the kitchen, some solid thunks followed by yelps as they all collided, and the unmistakable sensation of unseen attention immediately fixated on him. Charlie's thoughts turned towards the dragon nursery. Whenever he stepped through the low door and straightened, the top of his head brushing against the rafters, he could tell the hatchlings were watching him, studying his hands and pockets in case he had any concealed food on him before they pounced.
"It's for Grandma Molly." Charlie balanced the package back onto his hip and smoothed one of the fold down, the edge already beginning to curl from the residual heat of the Floo. "Got to drop it off first, then I'll be out with the rest to see you all."
"Are you going to stay?" Lily edged closer, something almost reptilian in the way she inspected the fall of his coat and the curve of his pockets. Her grin hadn't lessened, only sharpened as she sized up the possibility of a souvenir or sweets finding their way to her later.
Children were very similar to dragons, a comparison Charlie had made sure to only mention to Fleur, trusting that she would see the humour in it given her nature. She had, luckily, laughed, throwing her head back as the musical sound overtook her and dissolved into spluttering as she tried to control it to avoid drawing attention. Charlie had looped his arm around her waist to keep her steady, the pair swaying slightly as they sat on the wooden bench even before her fit of laughter, but it didn't help, dragging them both off the back of the bench.
"Like little birds too," she had hiccuped as they lay in the sweet-scented grass, watching the stars dance and swirl above them as the earth rolled behind their backs. "Always chirping."
Charlie never wanted children and had never felt inclined towards romance and all its trappings, but he and Fleur had become friends over the years, slinking off into the corners when the roar of the family grew too loud. Fleur had grown in a quieter environment and Charlie had come to appreciate his solitude intensely while out on the reserve so they were well-matched.
"Yeah." Charlie shook his head, dragging himself out of his memories. "Is your Aunt Fleur here already?"
"Yeah." Lily seemed to have decided that Charlie had outlived his momentary usefulness when nothing materialised from his pockets and she turned back towards the door. "She's helping with the food. Bye, Uncle Charlie. See you later."
She was gone so quickly Charlie wondered if she was ever truly there to begin with. From the kitchen, he heard the familiar creak of the door and the thud of the uneven wood hitting the wall as running footsteps thundered out into the bright sunshine. The air was filled with the sweet scent of summer and cut with the sharpness of vinegar from the pickling jars Mum set up every year. Shaking his head, Charlie refocused his thoughts and moved into the house, searching for his mother.
"Mum?" Charlie called at the foot of the stairs, staring up their spiralling turns until he felt as if the world was spinning around him. "Where are you?"
"I'm in the girl's room, Bill— Charlie, love. Come here, will you? I'm still tidying."
Charlie bit back his grin even though Mum wouldn't be able to see him for a few flights of stairs. The habit of a lifetime of grouping him and Bill together was a hard one to break, and Charlie doubted that would change now if their graduation and moving out hadn't done anything to lessen it. The twins experienced something similar enough that the family simply grouped their names together even when now — given George's missing ear and Fred's network of scars — it was easier than ever to tell them apart.
The girl's room, as everyone called it, had been a storage room for the longest time. Originally, it had been intended to be Dad's study, but he had tucked himself away in the shed quickly, leaving the room to stagnate until grandchildren and the topic of overnight visits began to be a priority. It was a well-sized room with two sets of bunk beds lining the opposite wall and the extra beds beneath tucked away for the moment. The walls were painted a pale pastel yellow and covered with art of every skill and colour hanging from charmed wooden pegs.
"Oh, good. Did you manage to fix it?"
Mum was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, a pile of ironed washing on her lap. As Charlie entered the room, she glanced up from inspecting a striped vest top, pinching the label between thumb and forefinger, before returning to her examination.
"I did." Charlie carefully sat on the floor in front of her, wincing at the crack his knees made and unwrapping the bundle to stave off the incoming lecture on his choice of profession and how he would be needing a walking stick in a few years if he continued it.
The knitting inside was a deep midnight blue, shot through with silver thread in places to mimic a constellation. The offending area — a piece of Aran knitting — had been fixed over the course of a week, carefully unpicking the stitches to backtrack then rewoven, and Charlie placed the paper pattern on top, the section carefully marked with neat pencil lines.
"You're a treasure, love. These new patterns, I just can't get my head round them, and you're the only one who can."
Charlie laughed. It didn't seem like much to some of the others, but Charlie cherished the unusual skill he had and was more than willing to spend some of his rare free time to help his mum. "Anytime. Now, are you going to come and join us all outside? The girls can sort out their own washing when they've tired themselves out."
"If you insist." Mum stretched out a hand and Charlie scrambled to his feet, his knees cracking again in protest. "You really should look after yourself, Charlie. I mean, your knees. You'll be walking with a stick before long, mark my words."
"Yes, Mum."