No Such Place
Chapter three: Chance

Notes: I just want to express my thanks that everyone was so patient with this chapter. It was nearly forgotten in the midst of all the packing, unpacking, and house-hunting that constitutes moving to another country. In any case, three months is pretty pathetic. As always, eternal gratitude to Zsenya for beta-reading. Special thanks to Caitlyn, Erica and Hallie for being encouraging as well as patient and to John for the conversation about, well, I'm still not really sure what it was about, but thanks.

Other note: Jennie insists that it's spelled judgment, but I insist on being stubborn. Besides, it looks so much more elegant with the extra e.

Disclaimer: I won't even pretend to own Charlie. Sadly, he belongs to Ria- I mean, Hallie- I mean, J. K. Rowling, of course. Oh yeah. The other characters do, too, with the exception of the select few I created myself. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.

*

'And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast.'

-Hotel California, The Eagles

*

"It's Dumbledore," Charlie said fiercely, but the words thudded dully in the room. "He's gone." Full realization hit him like a ton of bricks; his hands, clenched in fists around the letter he'd received, began to shake. For a moment he was certain that he was going to be sick; the room spun and tilted dangerously around him. "Kate, I-"

He never finished. Kate shushed him quietly, held him close to her. Some basic part of him calmed at her touch; the intense emotions that had replaced his shock were swept aside and hollow despair took their place. "I know," she said. It was enough, somehow. He was fairly sure she knew that, but she added, "I'm sorry."

Charlie leaned his head back on her shoulder. Someone else he couldn't protect had left the world. It was so frustrating, knowing that even his best efforts were often in vain. "What am I going to do?" he asked dully. The echo of his own voice throbbed too loudly inside his head.

"Well, knowing you, you're either going to get very drunk and pathetic or you're going to reply to your mail." Ah yes. A beautiful, emotionless, typically nonplussed Kate comment. One of the two faces of Kate: angry or unaffected. Of course there was the vaguely sympathetic side, the one she had shown a few moments ago, but believing that to be full-fledged emotion... Well, it wasn't. Or maybe it was, but Kate didn't seem fond of displaying it.

"You have been hanging around me far too long. Can't I do both?"

"You have to work in the morning," Kate reminded him. "It's far too early in the week for that. Besides, have you any idea what that does to your liver?" She sighed. "It's not worth it, Charlie."

Funny, he thought dryly. I was just thinking the same thing, only about a completely different matter. "I'm inclined to agree with you." They sat in silence for a few minutes. "I think I had too many of those Feel-Good Fizzbees," Charlie said finally. He held up a hand for Kate to see; it was vaguely blue.

Sensing his need to change the subject, Kate clucked at him. "Yes, I'd say that about exceeds your maximum daily requirement." He felt her sigh. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

Because I'm a sad, masochistic little boy at the end of a very short rope and if I fall, I take everyone with me. But he didn't answer aloud.

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She raised her wand and Summoned some parchment and a self-inking quill. "Write to your professor, whoever it is; write to your mother; and go to bed. I mean it. You're going to make yourself sick." Her eyes searched him. "Maybe you already are." Charlie flinched. "I am going to go home now," Kate announced, "Because whenever it's for your own good, you don't want me to stay."

"Very good. Leave me alone in my darkest hour." It was a sad attempt to be ironic.

He wasn't sure exactly what Kate meant when she replied. "You know you love being left to mope."

"What's that supposed to mean?" It was equally in character for her to have meant it sincerely as it was for the remark to be scathing. He didn't think that was quite it, either. She almost sounded as if she were giving him a clue.

In fact, getting a clue was exactly what she told him to do. "I hardly think I need to spell it out for you anymore." She shook her head sadly. "Good night, Charlie."

"Bye, Kate," he said, wondering why he felt as if he had missed something extremely significant. With a toss of Floo powder, she was gone.

Charlie took out the letter from McGonagall again. Heart heavy, he reread the few formal lines that were interrupted only by the occasional spot of blurred ink.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

I regretfully inform you of the passing of the head of our Order this sad day. He was returned to us only a few hours ago. As yet we can make no guess as to the cause of death.

I await your suggestion for his replacement. Albus would have wanted it.

After that, there was a hastily added paragraph, almost as if she hadn't wanted to include it at first but had forced herself to.

Professor Severus Snape is taking over his duties as Headmaster. I know how you feel about him, Charlie, but it was up to the Board of Directors, this time. I'm sorry.

Minerva McGonagall

Charlie sighed unhappily. Under other circumstances, he would have been irked that the Board of Directors had chosen Snape above McGonagall for the position of Headmaster. Now, however, this seemed rather trivial. For the moment, the most important thing was the war. Charlie just didn't see how he could continue on as if nothing had happened, but he knew that he had to.

Dear Professor, he wrote, we both know that the Head of the Order can only be one person now that Dumbledore is gone. I trust that you will make all the necessary arrangements. - C. Weasley

He rolled up the parchment and uttered the words to create the Order of the Phoenix seal, pressing the ring he wore to the scroll. He tied it to McGonagall's owl and watched it fly out the window, free. Charlie wished for a fleeting moment that he could fly away so easily, with so few cares. Then he remembered that the finer things in his life were far more complicated than anything a bird ever had to deal with, and once again resigned himself to his fate.

Having done so, he took out a fresh sheet of parchment and again dipped his quill in the ink. Kate was right: it really was high time that he made up with his mother.

*

"Morning, Riley," Charlie said, sliding into the chair beside Oliver. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and Monday morning's administration meeting was the last thing he wanted to deal with. If it had been any more than just the three of them, it would have been completely unbearable. For some reason, the more people that were present, the less activity went on.

"Lieutenant," Riley acknowledged, glancing significantly at his watch. Charlie wrinkled his nose; he knew he'd almost been late again. The Captain crossed his arms.

"What's up?" he asked with some degree of trepidation, picking up on Riley's apprehension.

Riley shook his head. "Last week's vaccine tests." He sighed. "Only good for a certain number of exposures before it wears off."

Oliver swore. Charlie didn't bother voicing his agreement. "So what does that mean?"

"It means we're going back to the drawing board," Riley said agitatedly. He passed them both a sheet of parchment with various numbers, symbols and runes on them. "This is the basic composition of the Dormius Curse. If you break it down…" Charlie grimaced. He had never been very good at Arithmancy. He filtered out various nonsense words until Riley started speaking in terms he understood. "… We found that it is based on an ancient form of Elf magic. Of course, the Elves used it for different-"

Charlie sat bolt upright. "Whoa, wait; rewind. What did the Elves use it for? And I thought all of your magic was protected! Somebody got a little careless explaining how things were done, did they?" There were serious laws concerning the adaptation of Elf magic for anything because it was so powerful and could easily be adapted for Dark purposes.

Riley sighed. "This is all magic that originated thousands of years ago. It's fairly obscure, but it's certain to be documented in more places than we can control." He ran a hand back through his hair. "As far as I know, this way of using magic to induce sleep was used for a few purposes. Ironically, one of them was to keep a child from having nightmares. It was also used to put a person in a sort of stasis until a doctor could be fetched. Unfortunately, if the spell was altered or imperfect somehow, it got very difficult to wake someone up in this second case."

A very quiet alarm started going off in Charlie's head. There was something important about that, but there was nothing he could do at that particular moment. He bit his tongue to keep from yelling at Oliver when he interrupted the flow of valuable information.

"Okay, but none of that is helping us create a vaccine." He picked up the Captain's quill from the inkwell on the desk and made a few notes on the parchment sheet. Most of it was gibberish to Charlie- he was in over his head when it came to magical mathematics. "I guess this is what you used to create the first one?" Oliver handed the parchment back to Riley, who nodded.

Oliver took the paper back, frowning. "Something doesn't fit," he said, his eyes searching the rows of numbers.

Charlie looked down at his own sheet. "You're right," he said finally, not knowing quite what was bothering him. He wished he'd taken Arithmancy. He pointed at the third line down. "What does this symbol mean?"

Oliver followed his gaze. "That's-" he stopped. "That's it." He shook his head. "Some idiot in the Ministry hierarchy needs to learn how to balance an equation." A few minutes later, he handed his sheet back to Riley. "No wonder the vaccine wasn't working. They developed it from the wrong formula."

Riley shook his head. "Oliver, sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll send this to the higher-ups and see what they have to say about it."

At the end of his shift, Charlie grabbed his broom and Disapparated. He hadn't seen his godchild in quite some time, and to tell the truth he was rather eager to see little Jamie again. On top of that, he was expected at Dromore House- it was (or, at least, had been) routine for him to show up after work on Mondays.

He appeared just past the hedge, slung his broom over his shoulder, and walked through the gate and up the pathway to the house. "Phoenix fire," he said to the guard gnome, stepping into the front entrance hall.

Since the arrival of the newest addition to the Black family, the front foyer had been rather disorganized, but Charlie had never seen it in the state it was in now. There were various traveling cloaks strewn about everywhere and an open suitcase lie in the middle of the floor. He stepped gingerly around it and was nearly hit in the face by a pair of socks being tossed energetically down the stairwell. "Sirius?" The barrage of projectiles continued. "Business trip?"

"Yeah," came Sirius' voice, clearly annoyed. Charlie thought he heard some cursing, but there was a soft thump followed by a feminine giggle. "Ruddy bastards can't give me a moment's peace- dragging me off to all corners of the globe when I've got a new daughter to pamper and a wife to be overprotective of-"

Charlie snickered. Sirius- Professor Sirius, as he was now known- was probably scheduled to lecture at some obscure Auror training facility, possibly abroad. He watched as Anya, energetic as she'd always been (though looking somewhat less enthused than normal), bounded down the stairs and enfolded him in a hug. "Well, Charlie, it's about time you came to visit me. What's your excuse?"

He looked at her, embarrassed and slightly abashed. "I had a little lapse of judgement, but I've had some help in sorting out my priorities."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't question his statement. "Just don't let it happen again. Unless of course you have a death wish."

Charlie shook his head. "You wouldn't stand a chance. Kate would kill me long before you got a shot." He smiled. "Where's my goddaughter? I haven't seen her in ages!"

"Sleeping," Anya answered, sounding relieved. "No thanks that goon over there." She winked at Sirius. "He insists on holding her every waking minute. She's getting spoiled." Turning back to him, she said, "Sorry, Charlie. Stay awhile; I'm sure she'll wake up soon anyway."

Sirius gave her a sad look. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

She sighed. "I swear, it will be a miracle if that child doesn't turn out to be spoiled. She takes after Sirius, you know."

Charlie laughed, trying not to show his disappointment. "Right, because she's not at all like her mother."

"Just because she's blessed with my good looks and charm doesn't mean she hasn't inherited some of her father's less loveable traits." She poked Sirius in the ribs. "She doesn't like sharing at all."

Sirius made a face. "She'll grow out of it; she has siblings."

"Speaking of," said Charlie, glancing around, "Where's the other anklebiter hiding?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "He's upstairs in the gameroom practicing flying on the toy broom Harry got him for Christmas. At this rate, we'll have two spoiled children and a normal hero."

Charlie shrugged. "How the two of you could ever even hope to raise children is beyond my comprehension. Do you mind if I-"

"Go," Anya waved him off, shooing him upstairs. "But if you wake Jamie, you're not leaving until you've put her back to sleep again!"

Upstairs, things were quiet. The door to the master bedroom (recently moved upstairs for reasons no one could fathom- after all, who wanted to have to carry an infant up and down stairs?) was slightly ajar, and Charlie could just hear the soft baby-sounds that little James habitually made while she was sleeping. He smiled in spite of himself, glad Kate had knocked some sense into him. Then, taking care to ensure that he would not wake the baby, he tiptoed down the hallway and into the gameroom.

Leon, arguably the most spoiled child in the British Isles, whether he acted snobbish or not, landed haphazardly from his three-foot-high cruising altitude and ran in a similarly haphazard way to meet Charlie. "Chazzie!"

Grinning widely, Charlie scooped him up in his arms and spun him around. "Hello, Leon." He squealed in delight. Charlie wondered if he could possibly be only three years old. He also wondered about the safety of the toy broom- they were supposed to have a maximum altitude of eighteen inches. It didn't seem natural that the child was flying before he was talking properly, let alone unsupervised. However, he supposed that the six hundred safety charms Sirius had probably cast on the broom and gameroom both must have been doing something to keep him safe. "Getting good at those landings, I see."

"Down!" Leon promptly demanded, looking slightly dizzy. Charlie set him on the ground, and the toddler looked up at him with his big brown eyes. He took Charlie's hand in his own small, chubby one. "Quiet," he admonished in a stage whisper, holding the index finger of his other hand to his lips. "Jamie's sleeping."

Charlie managed to refrain from chuckling aloud and allowed Leon to lead him down the stairs again. "I just walked up these stairs, you know," he commented, going slowly to ensure that Leon wouldn't slip. "You're not trying to wear out an old man, are you?"

Leon leapt down the last three steps, forcing Charlie to do the same. "Mummy!" Leon squealed, skidding around a corner at the bottom of the stairway.

Charlie stopped short just behind him and winced. It was pretty clear that Anya and Sirius were in need of some time alone together before Sirius left on whatever business trip he was being called away on. "Come here, you," he said, scooping up the toddler under his arm. "Let your Mum and Dad have some fun."

Leon giggled and squirmed, but Charlie tightened his grip. "How about you show me what Daddy taught you on the piano, hmm?" He set the child down on the bench.

The atmosphere changed almost tangibly. Even at such a young age, it seemed as if Leon held the piano in very high regard. He slid back the keyboard cover seriously and reached for a music book. He opened it to a musical piece near the middle and frowned hard at the notes. Then, as if it were the most important thing in the world, he began to play.

Charlie was almost astounded at how well Leon did. It had to be some sort of magic- Leon's hands were not large enough to span more than about four keys at once. Still, he went through the piece as well as any child twice his age would have, given proper instruction. Charlie put it down to Sidhe genes and a remarkable teacher.

Unfortunately, Leon was only three years old, and just because he was part Sidhe did not mean that he had a longer attention span than other children his age. Not even thirty seconds later, he got bored and closed the book again. "All done," he pronounced happily, sliding off the bench.

Charlie had to laugh as the toddler took off, heading for the kitchen. The kid just couldn't sit still. Well, Charlie decided, he came by that honestly, too. Neither of his adoptive parents was particularly patient or low-key.

There was a high-pitched squeal from the kitchen and Charlie stood up, ready to go to the rescue, but Leon just careened through the doorway and into his legs, giggling like mad. "Uncle Remus!"

Remus? wondered Charlie. He didn't have to wonder long- no sooner had the thought occurred to him than Remus Lupin stepped around the corner into the sitting room, brushing ashes from his hair. "Hello, Remus."

The older man looked at him, surprised. "Charlie. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Charlie winced inwardly. He really had to do something to improve his reputation. "To be honest, I didn't expect to be here."

He got the feeling that there was a smile tugging at the corner of his friend's mouth. "Kate's idea, was it?"

Charlie's shoulders slumped and he looked up forlornly. "Why does everyone automatically assume that everything I do has a basis in Kate?"

"Because it's true," Remus said, as if the fact were obvious.

Charlie threw up his hands. "I give up. I would defend myself, but by the sounds of things, nobody'd believe me."

"Don't worry, Charlie," Remus said mock-comfortingly. "You'll get used to it."

"Thanks," he said dryly. "Where's Hallie?"

"Here," she said, coming around the corner. Charlie found it vaguely ironic that while the meticulously neat and even anal-retentive Remus was always rather rumpled after a trip through the Floo network, his wife always managed to stay perfectly composed. "Hello, Charlie." She didn't look up from the manila folder she was holding.

"Decided to take work home with you?"

"Hmm? Oh," Hallie looked up, smiling slightly. "No. Adoption papers, actually."

Of course. Adoption papers. Charlie hadn't been expecting them to make a decision so soon. Then again, they had been married for almost a year and there were certainly a lot of children in need of parents at the moment. "Oh. Right. I guess congratulations are in order?"

Remus looked slightly guilty, and Charlie could imagine why. Even in war times, the agency was probably fairly reluctant to hand over custody of a child to a werewolf and his spouse, never mind that he had a very high-risk profession. Remus often took the prejudices of others much too harshly. As far as Charlie was concerned, those prejudices were ill founded and possibly even backwards if other werewolves were anything like Remus.

"Yes," said Hallie firmly, casting a slightly irritated glare at Remus, obviously warning him to stop feeling sorry for himself. Then she turned back to Charlie and smiled, genuinely this time. She took a photograph from the folder and showed it to him. "Her name is Marianne Cowley."

Charlie leaned forwards have a look. The picture showed a young girl, probably about three, with messy black hair and large, dark brown eyes. She was standing in front of a plain white wall with her hands clasped in front of her and her face cast down shyly. She almost looked as if she had been crying. It was no wonder that Remus and Hallie had decided so quickly- though not exactly pretty, Marianne was frighteningly cute. His heart went out to her. "She's adorable," he said. Both adoptive parents practically glowed at this praise. "When's it finalized?"

"February fifteenth," Remus answered.

How appropriate, thought Charlie. He stifled a yawn. "Is Sirius throwing you a party?"

"Probably," he said ruefully. "Sirius is a party animal. He hardly needs the excuse." And then he sighed. "But we'll probably all be busy. It seems to be pretty standard of late."

Charlie agreed. He couldn't even remember the last time he had enjoyed himself, except perhaps for the few moments ice skating with Kate before the Death Eaters had decided to crash the party, and his bum had hurt after that. "So you don't already have Valentine's plans?" he asked with a slight yawn. He wondered if he were getting old.

"Sure they do," Sirius said, poking his head around the corner. Anya appeared beside him, Sirius' arm snug around her waist.

"They're coming to the Marquis Club with us. Good thing it's a Saturday; we can have Harry home to baby-sit."

"Oh, no," Sirius corrected her. "Forget it. We are not leaving our daughter home alone with him."

Anya raised her eyebrows. "Why not? He adores them!"

"First of all, he does have a girlfriend of his own, you know." Charlie, admirably, maintained a straight face. "And I know you think he's very trustworthy, but I don't think I'd be comfortable with the two of them here together unsupervised on Valentine's day." His self-control vanished. He didn't know whether to turn red or white. "Secondly, he is the Boy Who Lived you know. I don't care how secret you think Dromore House is, someone could find him, and that wouldn't be good for anyone involved." Sirius paused, surveying his audience. "Sorry, Charlie. That wasn't intentional."

Anya finally relented. "Alright. I guess I see your point. I suppose you have a better idea?"

"Well," and at this Charlie began to feel distinctly uneasy, "I was thinking, you know, since Charlie is effectively single…"

"Whoa, wait," he interrupted. "What makes you think I haven't got plans already?"

Anya snorted, covering her mouth with one hand, and even Remus had a slight smile on his face. "Oh, come on, Charlie. You're an admitted recluse from society. You don't go on dates. Unless of course you've been holding out on us."

He crossed his arms and opened his mouth to speak, but Hallie cut in, "It's Kate."

Charlie looked down at the floor. He'd never had to say anything; they filled in the blanks by themselves. It wasn't lying- it was just letting them think what they wanted. Anya clapped her hands together delightedly. "Really? Well, Charlie, it's about time, I'd say!"

"Amen," put in Sirius.

Charlie held up a hand. "Just as friends," he said very clearly, hoping that Kate wouldn't beat him too badly. He felt a pang of guilt for allowing them (and himself) to assume things. Kate was worth more than that.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Charlie."

Exasperated, Charlie pointed out, "Just because you denied having a relationship with Hallie for almost a year doesn't mean that because I'm denying it, I have one!"

"All right," Anya said, effectively cutting off Sirius' retort and forestalling any further comment that might have resulted in an argument. "Let's just agree to take Charlie at his word, shall we?" Her expression read, very clearly, For now.

Charlie sighed inwardly, wondering how long it would take to convince them that his intentions towards Kate were purely platonic. Probably the same length of time it would take to convince me that they're more than that, he thought dryly. Luckily, everyone took Anya's advice and he didn't have to think about it again.

*

The rest of the week was fairly uneventful. Oliver seemed rather less unfriendly to him than usual, and at least seemed to share his extreme dislike of Jonathan Chortos. Jonathan either didn't notice or didn't care; either way he insisted on being an insufferable git. Charlie was just grateful that he didn't know that Kate was in the country yet. Friday was by far the worst day of the week in Charlie's mind, perhaps because it was the most recent.

He came across Jonathan and Riley in the hallway after two days of false alarms where Death Eater attacks were concerned. The entire team was running short on patience, and though Charlie had channeled most of his frustration into working out at the small gym, he was wearing his irritation rather close to the surface. He had just made up his mind to ignore Jonathan completely when he caught wind of what he was saying.

"…in Romania. Why should he care? Okay, so I used a subordinate employee. She didn't seem to mind. It's not like she deserved any better- do you know who her fath-"

Charlie, who had been beyond the point of merely contemplating acts of violence this time, suddenly saw through the red haze that had clouded his vision. Oliver Wood had Jonathan pressed against the wall. Although Oliver was a good two inches shorter than Jonathan, he was somehow managing to hold the taller man almost a foot off of the floor. His right fist was drawn back, ready to make a mess of Jonathan's features. "Say that again," he growled.

As their superior officer, Riley had to intervene. "Lieutenant Wood!" he bellowed.

Reluctantly, Oliver lowered his fist and let Jonathan back to the ground. He snapped off a mocking salute, anger and distaste still written in a grimace across his features. "Sir."

"Corporal." Riley turned the same cold expression on Jonathan.

Red-faced with humiliation, Jonathan gave a salute that barely met standards. "Captain."

"I suggest you leave whatever differences you and the Lieutenant have at home, Corporal. I think it's enough to say that next time, I may not intervene. I could just let him beat you to a bloody pulp and have the both of you court-martialed. Is that understood?"

Charlie slipped down a side hallway, then, when he was out of earshot, drove his fist against the wall. It made a very satisfying crunching noise as a piece of drywall fell away. He ignored the dull throbbing in his fingers and focused instead on how he was going to get Jonathan kicked off the team. He supposed he could set him up for a few more comments like that within Oliver's earshot, but then, while Oliver seemed to have an extreme dislike of him, as well, the feeling wasn't exactly mutual. Besides, Oliver was a definite asset and the F.L.A.M.E. really couldn't afford to lose him.

Charlie had just stared pondering various decapitation methods when Oliver turned down the corridor. "What an asshole," he was fairly sure he heard the younger man mutter under his breath.

Deciding it was about time he tried to make peace with the other Lieutenant, Charlie said, "Who- Chortos? He's a bastard, all right."

Oliver turned slowly, giving Charlie a calculating look. "He certainly is," he agreed, "but that isn't who I was talking about."

"Oh. Riley?"

Oliver shook his head. "No." And continued walking.

Well, it had been a less than polite conversation, but it was certainly an improvement on the cold, shrewd indifference- even occasional malevolence- Oliver had always shown him before. And at least he wasn't the only one who wanted to rip out Jonathan's jugular vein and shove it up his…

Still, Charlie couldn't help but feel that he was missing something very important about the whole encounter.

*

He knocked on the door, a little apprehensive. He vividly recalled his last visit to Bill's house- although he hadn't exactly been unexpected, he was fairly certain he'd interrupted something. Both Bill and Anne had looked slightly flustered and dishelved when they had answered the door.

This time, however, his brother let him in with a content and completely innocent face. "Hello, Charlie," he said warmly. "Come on in."

Then again, Charlie thought to himself… Bill certainly had a strange expression on his face. It wasn't completely innocent, after all. He was almost manic. Something was definitely up. "Hi," he replied, keeping his suspicions to himself.

Inside, all was warm and bright, despite the abysmally bad weather without. Charlie ran a hand through his hair to shake out most of the water. "Hello, Annie," he said fondly, nodding at his sister-in-law (who seemed to be half-dozing) on the sofa. Her legs were curled up under her and her head was leaning on the back of the sofa. She had a crocheted blanket pulled up over her lap.

Charlie must have looked a little concerned, because Bill explained, "She's just been a little under the weather lately."

Anne gave him a tired mock-glare. "Under the weather, nothing," she said with a yawn. "Your brother's just a mother hen."

"With good reason," defended Bill.

"Right. Don't worry, Anne, he comes by it honestly. At least he's not Mum," Charlie comforted.

"He's worse," she grumbled affectionately. Her husband kissed her forehead and took a seat on the sofa beside her. "Make yourself at home, Charlie."

He tried, electing a chair near the fire. He wondered if he would ever again be as close to anyone as Bill and Anne were. They seemed so perfectly at ease, and while at first glance it wouldn't occur to anyone that they could fit so completely together, it was obvious upon further inspection that they did. When he felt the loneliness stirring inside him, he quashed it firmly, reminding himself that this was war and he didn't have time to get involved romantically with anyone.

So it was only natural for him to get a little annoyed when Bill asked lightly, "How's Kate?"

Maybe 'annoyed' wasn't quite the word. Maybe 'exasperated' fit better. "She's well," Charlie answered resignedly, and added moodily without really meaning to, "Thanks for asking."

Bill and Anne exchanged a secretive glance. "Is there something you're not telling us, Charlie?" his brother finally asked.

"No," enunciated Charlie meticulously.

"Ah." Bill watched him carefully for a minute. "Why do I get the impression that that's the problem?" He seemed to be talking to Anne rather than Charlie.

Before Charlie could cut in, she raised a hand to forestall comment and gathered her blanket around her. "I suggest you ask Charlie, darling," she told Bill mildly, kissing his brow and ruffling his hair softly before disappearing up the stairwell.

Bill turned his gaze on his brother, who found himself feeling defensive once again. "Well?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "There is no problem with Kate. We get along very well, even when she's trying to fix problems that aren't hers. She's my best friend, and I love her. I am simply a little annoyed that everyone seems to expect us to be something more than platonic all of a sudden."

"Ah," came the wise reply. Bill considered for a minute. "But are you annoyed because people presume things, or because you don't like having the relationship you want but don't have thrown in your face?"

All Charlie could do for a moment was stare. If it hadn't been so ridiculously groundless, the question would have been one requiring a good deal more analysis than he was prepared to give on such short notice. Maybe it does warrant a bit more consideration, but even so, now is not the time. We're at war. Aloud he said only, "What?"

"You understood the question," Bill said shortly. "Are you man enough to answer it?"

"I…" Charlie stalled. Was he? Could he? He was sure he preferred not having to answer it. It seemed unfair to Kate that he was being asked this question without her input. Then again, he was sure he wouldn't answer it in her presence. Did that mean that he did want something more than just friendship? Did she? If she did, could he possibly push her away and still keep their friendship alive?

"Well?"

"Don't know," he admitted.

At this point, Bill just grinned at him. "Exactly. It may seem harsh, Charlie, but if you're ever going to have a successful relationship with a woman, you've got to be able to say that."

Charlie scowled. "Any other advice?"

"Yeah," his older brother smirked. "Answer the damn question. If not for me, than for yourself and for Kate. Because she is the best thing that has ever happened to you and if you let yourself push her out of your life, you are going to regret it. And if you regret it, I'm going to regret letting you do it, and then I'll have to take out my aggression on something."

"I would kick your arse," Charlie pointed out.

"Don't change the subject," retorted Bill. "That's my job."

"I-" Charlie paused, hearing a noise from upstairs. "Is that Anne?"

Bill winced. "Anne? Honey, are you okay?"

"Fine," came a weak-sounding reply. "I'm just fine."

But the elder Weasley stood anyway. "I thought she said she wasn't sick?" Charlie said, confused.

"She's not," Bill didn't really explain before taking off up the stairs.

Not sick? Charlie doubted it. Nobody could sound like that and be in good health. Unless she was-

Charlie groaned inwardly, wondering if he had just been blind before or if this recent phenomenon was just a strange, unexpected byproduct of the war. He supposed it was possible- after all, who wouldn't want a successor if they thought they were doomed to die? The phenomenon that was Harry Potter's birthright was not lost on anyone. When Bill came back down the stairs, he said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Bill shifted uncomfortably. "Tell you what?"

He folded his arms.

"Oh, that." He sighed. "To be perfectly honest, we didn't think it would be a good thing to advertise, what with the war and everything- and especially how Voldemort was defeated last time. And since Anne refuses to simply run and hide until we're absolutely bloody sure that we're targets. Although personally, I wouldn't mind retreating from public view for a while." As one of the top officials in the Ministry's finance department, Bill had a major say in how much of the Ministry's funds were devoted to the fight against the Dark Side.

"I guess," said Charlie doubtfully. It wasn't as if they thought he would leak information or anything- only that he was more susceptible to capture and torture than the rest of the Weasleys. Though they didn't know his exact profession, they did know that it was particularly dangerous. "You've told Mum, of course."

Bill laughed. "We didn't have to- she guessed weeks ago. Remus knows, too- it's beyond difficult to keep anything from him."

"True enough," he conceded, thinking back to the events of a few days previously. "Hallie probably knows, as well, if Remus does. They don't have secrets."

"They had their share, in the beginning," pointed out Bill, distracted. He seemed, unwillingly, to keep glancing up the stairs every few moments.

Charlie nodded, understanding his brother's preoccupation. "I should get going," he excused, wanting to give his brother and his wife their space.

Bill looked grateful. "Sure. Come visit again soon."

"I will," he promised, reaching for his coat. Then he paused for a second. "Just one more question."

"Shoot."

"What are you going to call her?"

A smile broke out on his brother's face. "Genevieve."

It had a nice ring to it, Charlie thought. He was still uncertain how he knew that the child would be a little girl… it just seemed so right. "I like it," he said aloud, reaching for his wand. "See you later."

"Bye, Charlie," Bill said, looking somewhat frazzled as Charlie stepped out the door. Just as Charlie was about to Disapparate, he yelled, 'Think about what I asked you!"

Charlie made a solemn promise to himself to do exactly that- when there was time to warrant it.

He reappeared in a familiar clearing just across the lake and down the hill from Hogwarts. It was quiet and the babbling brook was oddly relaxing, if slightly icy because of the winter; Charlie had once jokingly dubbed the tree whose branches stretched out across it his 'thinking spot.' It was probably a little morbid that it was also the spot he had witnessed Lucius Malfoy cast curse after curse on a young witch named Alicia Spinnet months previously. It was also ironic that, while he had originally intended to consider his relationship with Kate in more depth and detail, he found his mind wandering back to the events that drew him to return to this particular spot.

Up until that day, the day he'd seen Alicia Spinnet tortured, Charlie had not really known the extent of human cruelty. The carnage had made him physically ill, and he had retched behind a tree before being able to pursue the older man. By then it had been too late for Alicia, and so he had taken out all of his aggression on Malfoy. A temporary charm had prevented him from Disapparating, and Charlie had taken the time to exact retribution. Somehow, Malfoy had gotten his wand back, and left the scene immediately. It only occurred to Charlie afterwards how close he had come to dying that day- that as easily as he had fled, Malfoy could have used his remaining strength to perform the Killing Curse.

As for Alicia…

She had been lying, unconscious and bloody, in the stream that even now trickled by under Charlie's feet, when he got to her. He had been certain that she was dead.

This later proved not to be the case. The mediwizards at St. Mungo's couldn't find a single thing wrong with her other than the curse-wounds inflicted upon her. She still had vital signs, brain activity, and a fairly regular respiration rate. She simply could not respond to outside stimuli.

They had called it the Dormius Curse and classified it top secret, forbidden him to say anything, and locked her up in a maximum-security ward.

Now, Charlie was beginning to wonder if the very first brand of misused Elven magic wasn't going to resurface anytime soon.

The last traces of orange sunlight disappeared from the sky and Charlie realized with a start that it was not a very intelligent thing to be out near the Forbidden Forest alone at night in any circumstances, let alone in the middle of a war. It wouldn't ordinarily have bothered him, but tonight something was preying on his mind. I'll walk it off, he told himself. Distractions were not to be tolerated, and he knew that only distraction could result from not following his instinct.

It appeared to be a perfectly normal Friday night in Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks was a bustle of activity as always, even if business was suffering a bit lately. Zonko's, Dervish and Banges, and the other shops all appeared closed and secure. The back of Charlie's neck prickled, and he continued making his way to Kate's cottage, reaching for his wand.

A light was on inside, he saw from a distance, which could only be a good sign. A slim silhouette danced across it, and Charlie recognized Kate's profile. She had probably just finished dinner, he decided, wondering if that was his stomach grumbling in response to the food or twisting nervously because of Kate. Inwardly, he cursed Bill for bringing unwanted questions to light.

Then another silhouette crossed the light, in front of the window this time. Charlie froze. That, he had not expected.

Quietly, but as quickly as stealth would allow, he crept up to the house. Someone whispered, "Aloho-"

Charlie cut him off with a snap-kick to the chest, but the prowler, whoever it was, caught it. Instead of allowing himself to be thrown off, Charlie leaned forwards and let his weight bring the man down.

Kate, probably hearing the commotion from inside the house, appeared at the doorway, a towel wrapped around her chest. Charlie barely noted this peripherally, instead bringing his fist to bear on the prowler's face. He had been trained to use physical force in place of magic in cases like this where a rebounding curse might injure himself or another, and when one of those others was Kate, the risk wasn't worth it.

A muffled curse- verbal rather than magical- could just be heard over the sound of all of the fingers in his hand cracking. He thought one of them might have broken, but didn't much care.

Then there was a wave of magic and the man disappeared from under him. Charlie swore.

"Charlie? Is that you out there?"

He shook off his stinging knuckle and stood up. "Guilty as charged." He glanced over at Kate. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, fine," she answered too quickly, stepping back inside. Charlie followed her and closed the door behind him. "I just… um…" Her eyes widened slightly as she realized her state of undress. "I'll be right back."

"Pack," said Charlie seriously before she could leave.

"What? Charlie-"

"No, listen." He stepped forward. "They're after you, Kate. For whatever reason, they want you." Whatever reason, he snorted to himself. They're using her to get to me. If it's more than that… He didn't want to think about the possibility that she could be in more danger than he'd previously imagined. "This is what, the third or fourth time there's been an attack where you were involved? Wake up and smell the coffee, Kate- you're not safe here."

He knew he'd hit a sore spot when her voice carried back through the walls of her bedroom. "If not here, Charlie, then were am I safe? You put up the wards yourself!" She stormed out of the bedroom with a blue fuzzy bathrobe cinched around her waist, toweling off her hair. It stuck almost straight up in soggy blonde clumps.

Charlie sighed inwardly. I am going to kill my brother, he decided, resisting the urge to break something in frustration. His hand throbbed, reminding him that it wouldn't be such a great idea, anyway. "Kate," he started. Just keep her safe. That's enough for now. "Look, just one night, okay? I'll set up a sort of alert system that will alert the Auror squads or something tomorrow, but-"

"You'll do no such thing," Kate interrupted. "Other people are more important, Charlie. No, don't correct me, you know it's true. Forget it- it's a waste of resources. Besides, I won't have them watching me every second of every day. I don't need a babysitter." Before Charlie could protest, she continued, "But I admit that…" Her hand shook a bit as she ran it through her wet locks. "Alright. Fine. Just for one night, you understand."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I worry about you, you know."

She shook her head as she went to pack. Softly, almost quiet enough that he couldn't hear her, she muttered, "It's me that should be worried."

*

It was, as far as he could remember it, the worst day of his life. Another incident he would rather have avoided repeating. But, like before, Charlie had no say in the mater. He could only sit tight and listen, experience.

Early morning on the dragon reserve was always beautiful, more so when you had someone special to share it with. Charlie had, but Anya was nowhere to be found that particular morning. It wasn't rare for her to be awake before him, so he thought nothing of it as he pulled on an old robe. It was not, Charlie reflected years later, something he would have chosen to wear, had he known what was about to happen. But Charlie hadn't known, hadn't even suspected, and so when Anya had confronted him in the tiny living room, he had been caught completely unawares.

Not so this time around, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

"Charlie," Anya said, turning away from the window, "We have to talk." Her face was, oddly, tinted with the slightest amount of makeup, something Anya had never really bothered with before.

Charlie remembered his nonchalance and even his initial slight confusion as he took her about the waist and kissed her quickly. "Alright. What about?"

It was at this point that he had started to suspect: Anya looked him directly in the eye. He was not deluded by anything he saw there; he could discern no emotion at all within them. They held only resignation and…

A peculiar pleading expression as she took his hands in both of hers. "Tell me you love me." It was a pitiful request rather than the demand it should have been.

Something about this set Charlie on edge. How many times had he told her…? "I love you," he hedged. "Of course I do. You know that by now."

At this point, Anya ceased to meet his gaze. She averted her eyes out the window at the new dawn. Her voice cracked when she spoke. "It isn't enough."

He'd been dumbfounded. Their love wasn't enough? What they had… it wasn't what she wanted? It wasn't what she needed? Charlie was possessed of the urge to make everything better, like a giant bandage on their relationship. All he could manage was: "What?"

"I'm using you, Charlie," Anya confessed unashamedly, looking him in the eye again. "I'm using you, and you know it but you refuse to see it because of what I am to you."

Unable to let the question go unasked, he said, "And what might that be?" Charlie supposed he had been too stunned to ask anything more meaningful.

"A project," she replied. He had been about to interrupt with a protest or a splutter of shocked laughter, but Anya cut him off. "No, listen. You found me here. You wanted a relationship. I wanted my life back. I was a challenge, which was what you thought you needed. It was more about consolidated needs and desires and mutual satisfaction than anything, and you'll realize it if you really try to understand. It isn't healthy for you. This is not the sort of relationship you should have. You need someone who loves you for who you are, not what you represent." She stopped here, turned away from his stricken expression. "You were my best friend, Charlie. I wouldn't mind having him back."

And in an instant, Charlie was forced to make a decision: let Anya, the woman he had loved for what felt like forever, walk out of his life for what would really be forever… or go on seeing her every day, be constantly reminded of what they had been and how much he loved her… and what they would never have again.

It wasn't a decision, really, just survival instinct. What else could he have done? He opted for friendship, but he never really forgot the sense of completeness he had had as her lover.

He woke up groggy, stiff all over and feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. Charlie stretched a bit and glanced at his alarm clock, whose glowing digits informed him that it was an inhuman hour to be awake. He groaned and buried his face in his pillow, thankful once again that he didn't have to work in the morning.

Something rattled just outside his perception. Sitting up and rousing himself from his sleep, he again remembered that it was nearly time for Kate to start showing symptoms of her exposure to the Dormius Curse. Now fully awake, Charlie padded down the corridor, wiping sleep from his eyes, and in the dim almost-light saw the figure that was meant to be sleeping on his couch.

Kate was not asleep. She was hunched over in the middle of the couch, hugging her knees. Her outline was shaking visibly. Charlie was concerned and a little taken aback. If something had affected Kate this badly and it was only the first week after her exposure, he didn't know what he was going to do to help her in the weeks to come. "Kate?" he said gently, sitting down beside her on the sofa and sliding an arm around her. "Are you…" He didn't seem to be having any effect on her whatsoever. "Are you okay?" Stupid question, he berated himself instantly. Of course she's not okay. Kate doesn't cry for anything. Or so I thought.

"No," she said miserably, burying her face in his chest.

"Do you want me to get something for you?" He had a feeling that she could use a whole lot of tranquilizers and maybe a Memory Charm to erase whatever it was that her dreams had shown her.

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Someone had said something to him once about women needing to talk about their problems.

"No." Then again, Kate wasn't your ordinary woman. Half the time, he wasn't sure she was human at all.

"Do you want me to leave?" She certainly didn't seem to need him for much.

"No." Charlie was taken aback by the force of her negative answer. She took a deep breath, then laid her head down against his chest again. "Just stay here. Okay?"

He certainly wasn't going to refuse. "I'll be here. Don't worry." Charlie lay awake long after Kate had again succumbed to the relief unconsciousness offered.