A/N: Sorry it took so long to post this chapter; too much homework, and
studying for exams!! Anyways, thanks (as ever) for reading and, if you
choose to, review.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that sounds even vaguely recognizable. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Charlie sighed as he came home from work on Thursday night. It had been three days since Ariane had blown up at him, and he wasn't entirely sure how to approach her again. He had thrown himself into his work, staying late hours, and showing up several hours early. He had even worked through lunch a couple of times. The more he worked, the less he could think about Ariane. But when he got home was when the problems started.
His mind would start buzzing with thoughts about Ariane, what she said, what had really happened twenty-three years ago to her father, how his own father was involved. With nothing to distract him, he would toss and turn, trying to fall asleep but only succeeding with nightmares to invade his dreams. After five or six hours of restless sleep, he'd drag himself out of bed and numbly take a shower. It was only when he got back to work and he could direct his thoughts exactly that he'd start feeling better.
His coworkers had noticed Charlie's change. Each had their own theories, most of them whispered behind his back. Obviously, being none of their business, nobody wanted to ask him exactly what had happened, particularly since none of them knew anything about this new girl he had been seeing. Charlie was somewhat aware of the whisperings, but he paid them no mind. Next week, there'd be new gossip, and this whole escapade would be forgotten.
* * *
Ariane wasn't having a much better time than Charlie. She regretted yelling at him and allowing her Hara temper to speak rather than rationally thinking her words through. She had spent the last few days arguing with herself, and the fleeting feeling that she was probably resembling one of the multiple personality patients she worked with crossed her mind more than once. She desperately wanted to talk to him again, but she didn't know how to. Besides that, she promised herself years ago that she'd never run after anyone.
Working with other psychologists didn't make her life easier, as they were all trained to read people and figure out the innermost workings of their fellow human's minds. Ariane found herself seeing more patients daily, just to avoid her coworkers. Unlike Charlie, however, she couldn't just push away her thoughts as soon as she got to work. They were constantly flying above her, like gnats that just wouldn't swat away.
Ariane thought more and more about her father's death. Yes, it was a wizard that killed her father, but Ariane herself had once been at the center of prejudice, and she realized now that by blaming Charlie, she was doing the same to him that kids in grammar school had done to her. Not that she could apologize to him, seeing as how she had no clue how to get to his place in Romania nor did she know how to find an owl that'd deliver a letter.
* * *
After another day's hard work, Charlie slumped down on his couch in front of his fireplace. He had just closed his eyes when he realized that his brother Bill's head was in the middle of the flames, his red hair almost blending in with the flames.
"Yo, Charlie," he called.
"Hey, Bill," Charlie replied wearily. Charlie moved to sit in front of the fire to talk to his brother.
"Hey, what's wrong?" asked Bill, his brow burrowing in concern.
"Just a little tired. Long day at work," said Charlie shortly. Bill looked at him suspiciously, but didn't ask anymore.
"Okay, well, listen up. Rest up before this weekend," Bill instructed. "You and I are taking our girls - "
"You've got a girl?" interrupted Charlie.
"Well, she's not technically, you know, but anyways," said Bill hurriedly. "I've got a couple of free nights in Paris; I won a nice little bet at work. So what do you say?"
"Have fun," replied Charlie gloomily.
"Okay, now I know something's wrong! What happened with Ariane in the past, what, four days? You can't have screwed up that badly in that short of time!" Charlie sighed.
"I guess my only crime is being what I am - a wizard. That's what I get for getting involved with a Muggle, eh?" Charlie tried a weak smile, but failed.
"Charlie, what happened?" Bill asked seriously. Charlie quickly filled him in on Monday's events.
"Wait, okay, so Ariane's father was You-Know-Who's first victim? And then Dad was part of the cleaning crew, but they all forgot to modify the memories?" Bill recapped in disbelief. Charlie nodded miserably.
"And now I think she hates me. I mean, I guess I can understand where she's coming from, but - "
"Charlie. Have you even tried talking to her since?" Charlie shook his head. "I bet you've been going to work and not coming home until you absolutely have to, right? Jeez, Charlie, you've been doing that since you were a kid. Something bad happens and you just work until you drop from exhaustion. You need to stop running and just face it."
"I'm not running," retorted Charlie. "I'm avoiding. There's a difference."
"Running, avoiding, whatever. Talk to her, Charlie. It may just turn out that she had just found out devastating news and her temper was running high. She may have said things that she regrets. Besides that, all she did was tell you to leave. She could have just wanted time to think things over alone. And it's not like she can just owl you and say she's sorry or she can just apparate to your house," scolded Bill. Charlie jutted out his chin stubbornly.
"You don't know her like I do, Bill. I think she meant to leave and not come back."
"Good God, you really can be an obstinate prat sometimes, Charlie. I saw you two at Easter. She really cares for you. I'd even go so far as to say she loves you, and I know that you love her. I'm not blind; all of us could see it."
"Do you really think so?" asked Charlie.
"Yes, you whopping pansy!" cried Bill.
"Okay, enough with the names already!" said Charlie. "I just - I'm not sure what to do about it, you know? Just apparate to her house and tell her what? I don't reckon she'd be too keen on me just showing up at her house!"
"Send her an owl," Bill suggested. "I know she's a Muggle, but she's known about us long enough to know what's going on."
"I suppose."
"Okay, well, I have to get going. Get this sorted out, Charlie. I expect to see you and Ariane in Paris in three days." Bill gave Charlie the coordinates to which he was to apparate, which Charlie grudgingly took down. They said their goodbyes, and Charlie was once again left with a headless fire.
Charlie walked into his bedroom, feet dragging. He didn't want to write Ariane; he wanted to see her. He wanted to hold her, feel her in his arms again. He stood at the foot of his bed for several minutes, contemplating his choices. Finally deciding that he needed to know if it was over or not, he pulled on some jeans and a sweater. Better to talk to her looking 'normal' he reasoned. Taking in a deep breath, he apparated to Ariane's flat, and sat waiting on her front step until she came home from work.
* * *
Ariane sat at her desk, and filled out the last form of the day. Not yet a clinical psychologist, as she was still working on her doctorate, she was often stuck with the paperwork. She didn't mind staying after work - at least not this week. One of her coworkers, Dierdre Westley, poked her head over Ariane's desk.
"Hey, Ariane," she said. "What do you say you and I go and get a drink after this? See if we can still pull a few numbers." Ariane smiled, but sighed.
"Sorry, Dierdre. Just not in the mood, I guess."
"You aren't still on about that chap, are you? You never even let any of us meet him!"
"There were reasons for that. Besides, I'd really just like to go home and take a long hot bath."
"Suit yourself then. Don't stay too late - people will start thinking you're our new resident workaholic." Ariane gave a wane smile and turned back to her desk. She stared at her computer blankly for several minutes, and then shut it down. She grabbed her coat and purse and headed toward the front of the building. A bath really did sound like the best plan for the evening, and she intended to get on with it as soon as possible.
As she pulled up to her driveway, she noticed a familiar redhead sitting on her doorstep. She really hadn't expected Charlie to show up today; nay, she hadn't expected him to show up ever again. Not after the way she had spoken to him. But now that he was here, she felt a surge of anger, her guard going up. She slowly turned the ignition off and got out of the car. Charlie stood up as she walked toward him.
"Ariane, I -"
"What are you doing here, Charlie?"
"Straight to the point, as ever, I see." Ariane simply stared, waiting for him to answer her question. "Right, then," he sighed. "I guess I'm here because I need to know."
"Know what?"
"About us, Ariane. I realize that you've been hurt, that your family has been torn apart. But - I guess - well, I just don't think that should ruin what we had."
"And what did we have, Charlie? A relationship based on a lie?"
"No, Ariane. We had a relationship based in love. Because I loved you. I still do." Ariane looked down at the ground. She heaved a great sigh and pushed past him into her flat. Charlie turned and watched her go inside.
"Well? Aren't you coming in? I thought you wanted to talk. So let's talk, Charlie Weasley." Unsure if this was a good sign or not, Charlie followed her inside. Ariane gestured to the couch. "Sit down."
"Ariane, I know that we've only known each other for a couple of months," he started. "But we really had something special. When it's right, it's right. And we were right -"
"Stop, Charlie," she interrupted. She rubbed her temples for a few seconds before she started talking again. "God, this is an awkward situation. Listen, Charlie, the past two months with you have been some of the best of my life. But, I don't know. It's just that I'm having a really hard time accepting the means of my father's death, and then the whole involvement with your father. It's just - "
"Hard to get a firm grasp on," he finished. "Ariane, I've been having the same problems," he said. "I am not any happier about this information than you are. But at the same time, I had nothing to do with it. And if you let this come between us, then the man that killed your father is still at large. He may have been defeated, but he's still coming between people! Ariane, he killed countless people, him and his followers. Remember Harry? My brother Ron's friend, the one with the black hair and glasses? His parents were killed when he was only a little baby. He's never known his parents. You are not the only victim here, Ariane! And even if you are a victim, you're choosing to let yourself be one. I'm asking you to choose something different; if not for me, then for yourself. Especially for yourself. Don't let this man, this disgrace of a wizard, ruin anything else. Don't let him come between us, because if you do, he's still winning." Charlie's blue eyes flashed intensely throughout his speech.
Ariane found it hard to keep eye contact, but she knew that all of what he was saying was true. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that nothing would come out. It seemed as though she had come down with a huge case of laryngitis, and instead of speaking vocally, two tears fell down her cheeks. Charlie noticed them and wiped them away.
"Look, Ariane, I'm sorry, but I had to say it. Not all of us are the same, Ariane. Most wizards or witches would never hurt a fly. I know I'm an obstinate prat sometimes, even a 'whopping pansy' - "
"Charlie, what are you talking about?" He had started rambling nonsense, giving Ariane back her voice.
"I don't know. I guess - I guess I should leave." Ariane didn't know how to react to what he had said, so she stood up with him as he headed towards the door. "Um, listen. If what I've said to you makes you change your mind about us, I'll be in Paris this weekend, with Bill and some girl he's met. We'll be staying at a Muggle hotel. I want you to join us." Charlie wrote down the name of the hotel. With no expression on her face, Ariane took the piece of paper that he had written on. Charlie gave her one last look, kissed her cheek hesitantly, and apparated from her flat. Alone once more, Ariane looked down at the paper.
"'Meet me in the lobby at seven. Hôtel Malte Opéra, 63 Rue de Richelieu. I love you, Charlie'," Ariane read out loud. She didn't know what to do. Sure, she had thought it all out in her head before, what she would say to him, but now that he had come and gone, with her practically silent throughout, she was back in square one.
Ariane knew all of what he said was true. But going to Paris would constitute as running after him, wouldn't it? Ariane walked to the dresser in her room and pulled out a piece of paper with a list that she had written two years ago. She read it to herself, thinking about her present situation.
'I will never run after a guy. Not a one of them is worth it. It'd only add up to my humiliation and their annoyance. I will never feel sorry for myself. It does me no good and it doesn't help the situation. I am not a victim. I never have been, and I never will be. I will have a good time. Staying unhappy for more than one hour at a time is unhealthy and isn't worthwhile anyways.' Ariane had written this after her the ending of a particularly nasty relationship, and she had stuck to it fairly well ever since. Until now: she was debating running after Charlie, even though he had given her open invitation to. She'd been feeling sorry for herself for the past week. She'd been a victim of - what was his name? Voldemort? She'd been a victim of him ever since her mother told her of her father's death almost a week ago. And she'd been unhappy. So unhappy that she'd cried herself to sleep for the past week, and she'd never done that in her life.
Ariane looked again at the scrawled note that Charlie had written with the hotel information on it. She couldn't run after him. It would be invading into her integrity. She crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash can. Ariane looked longingly at the trash, wanting to pull the note back out, but she wouldn't allow herself to. Taking a deep breath, she turned on her heel and turned on the bath.
* * *
"Hey, Bill!" Charlie called to his older brother.
"Charlie!" Bill walked across the lobby, and enveloped his younger brother into a hug. "Where's Ariane?"
"She'll be here later tonight," answered Charlie.
"Good deal."
"So tell me, Bill, how is it that you managed two rooms for three nights at a hotel like this in Paris?" Bill's tanned face broke into a grin.
"Well, we've got a new worker in Egypt, straight out of Beauxbatons. Apparently she has connections here - Muggle relatives of some sort. Distant, but relatives all the same. Anyhow, I bet her - er - something, and, well, I won, and so we have two rooms for three nights, free of charge with as much room service as we want!" Charlie looked at his brother, wanting to ask what the bet had been, but knew from past experiences not to pry - yet. Charlie looked over his brother's shoulder.
"So where's this girl that you were talking about?"
"Oh, yes. Well, that's the one that I had the bet with. Part of the winnings included her joining us. That's her, right there." Bill pointed at a beautiful young woman, speaking rapidly in French to one of the managers of the hotel. Charlie squinted.
"Bill, that's not - is it?" Charlie looked at his brother in disbelief. Bill nodded proudly.
"Yup. Fleur Delacour."
"From the Triwizard Tournament?" Bill nodded again. Charlie nodded in appreciation. "I had no clue that she wanted to go into your line of work," Charlie commented.
"Well, who wouldn't, when they could have me as a coworker?" Charlie rolled his eyes good naturedly.
"So are we checked in and all that?"
"Yeah, rooms 345 and 347. Here's your key." Bill fished around in his pockets for a moment, and then handed Charlie a card key.
"This is a key?"
"Apparently. You slide it in this thing on the door - supposedly more safe that way."
Charlie shook his head. "Muggles."
"I know. So when's Ariane getting here?" Charlie didn't answer straight away, and Bill started prying harder. "Charlie? She is coming, right?"
"I hope so," Charlie muttered.
"You hope so? Charles Anthony Weasley, didn't you talk to her?"
"Yeah, I did! That night, right after you and I spoke! I told her to meet me here at seven, but she didn't say if she would or not."
"Great," said Bill sarcastically, throwing his hands in the air. Fleur came walking up to the two red headed men.
"'Ello," she said to Charlie, holding out her hand. "'Oo must be Bill's younger bruzzer, iz zat correct?"
"Yes," said Charlie, shaking her hand.
"'Oo look fameeliar."
"Er, yes, I was one of the dragon handlers at the Triwizard Tournament."
"Zat iz right. I remember now. Come. Ve vill go to our rooms now to settle in and zen ve can go for deener heer in ze restaurant." The two men followed her to the elevators and into their respective rooms.
Half an hour later, the three met in the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel, just off from the lobby. All three opened their menus, Bill and Charlie both had to ask Fleur for help in deciphering what each dish was. When the waiter came, Fleur had to order for all three, being the only one who spoke French. Charlie kept looking at the clock on the wall as it crept nearer to seven o'clock.
"Relax, mate," said Bill. "From what you've told me, I think she'll show." Charlie had filled Bill in, word-for-word, as to what he said to Ariane only two nights prior. They finished their dinner quickly, and Bill escorted Fleur up to the room that they were sharing. Charlie walked out to the lobby to wait. His palms were sweaty, and he was sure that his insides were going to burst if they got any tighter.
"Monsieur? Où est l'Arc de Triomphe ? Ma femme et moi, nous n'habitons pas de Paris, et nous voulons voir les sites historiques." A man had come up to Charlie, rambling in French. Unable to understand a word, Charlie shrugged his shoulders and pointed to a hotel employee. The man grumbled off, frustrated with Charlie, apparently not understanding that the most French that Charlie knew was "Bonjour." Romanian he could handle; French, never. During the five minutes that Charlie was distracted, he had forgotten about the time. It was now five after seven, and Ariane was nowhere to be seen. Charlie decided to wait a few more minutes. Maybe she had traveling problems. Or maybe she had gotten into a car accident on the way here. His heart wrenched at the thought.
Stop it, Weasley, he told himself. Thinking like this is not going to help anyone! She's not hurt; she's just a little late, he tried to convince himself. Soon, though, it was half past seven, then eight, and then eight thirty. Charlie had just started towards the elevators when he heard someone call his name. Someone with a British accent. He turned to see Ariane running towards him, and he caught her in his arms, and they just held each other for an undeterminable amount of time.
*A/N: Wow. This is getting so chick-flicky (getting?? It was from the beginning!). Sorry about that. BTW, I don't know exactly how the "fire communication" thing is initiated, so I just had Bill's head pop up in Charlie's fireplace. Anyone with info on that please let me in on it! Also, I looked up Charlie's middle name, and I read somewhere that it was Anthony, but any info to the contrary, again, please let me know. Anyhow, thanks for reading. Review if you wish. Again, sorry it took so long to post this chapter. Oh yeah, and I'm not sure if I wrote Fleur's accent correctly, so I apologize if it's too German or Swedish or whatever.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that sounds even vaguely recognizable. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Charlie sighed as he came home from work on Thursday night. It had been three days since Ariane had blown up at him, and he wasn't entirely sure how to approach her again. He had thrown himself into his work, staying late hours, and showing up several hours early. He had even worked through lunch a couple of times. The more he worked, the less he could think about Ariane. But when he got home was when the problems started.
His mind would start buzzing with thoughts about Ariane, what she said, what had really happened twenty-three years ago to her father, how his own father was involved. With nothing to distract him, he would toss and turn, trying to fall asleep but only succeeding with nightmares to invade his dreams. After five or six hours of restless sleep, he'd drag himself out of bed and numbly take a shower. It was only when he got back to work and he could direct his thoughts exactly that he'd start feeling better.
His coworkers had noticed Charlie's change. Each had their own theories, most of them whispered behind his back. Obviously, being none of their business, nobody wanted to ask him exactly what had happened, particularly since none of them knew anything about this new girl he had been seeing. Charlie was somewhat aware of the whisperings, but he paid them no mind. Next week, there'd be new gossip, and this whole escapade would be forgotten.
* * *
Ariane wasn't having a much better time than Charlie. She regretted yelling at him and allowing her Hara temper to speak rather than rationally thinking her words through. She had spent the last few days arguing with herself, and the fleeting feeling that she was probably resembling one of the multiple personality patients she worked with crossed her mind more than once. She desperately wanted to talk to him again, but she didn't know how to. Besides that, she promised herself years ago that she'd never run after anyone.
Working with other psychologists didn't make her life easier, as they were all trained to read people and figure out the innermost workings of their fellow human's minds. Ariane found herself seeing more patients daily, just to avoid her coworkers. Unlike Charlie, however, she couldn't just push away her thoughts as soon as she got to work. They were constantly flying above her, like gnats that just wouldn't swat away.
Ariane thought more and more about her father's death. Yes, it was a wizard that killed her father, but Ariane herself had once been at the center of prejudice, and she realized now that by blaming Charlie, she was doing the same to him that kids in grammar school had done to her. Not that she could apologize to him, seeing as how she had no clue how to get to his place in Romania nor did she know how to find an owl that'd deliver a letter.
* * *
After another day's hard work, Charlie slumped down on his couch in front of his fireplace. He had just closed his eyes when he realized that his brother Bill's head was in the middle of the flames, his red hair almost blending in with the flames.
"Yo, Charlie," he called.
"Hey, Bill," Charlie replied wearily. Charlie moved to sit in front of the fire to talk to his brother.
"Hey, what's wrong?" asked Bill, his brow burrowing in concern.
"Just a little tired. Long day at work," said Charlie shortly. Bill looked at him suspiciously, but didn't ask anymore.
"Okay, well, listen up. Rest up before this weekend," Bill instructed. "You and I are taking our girls - "
"You've got a girl?" interrupted Charlie.
"Well, she's not technically, you know, but anyways," said Bill hurriedly. "I've got a couple of free nights in Paris; I won a nice little bet at work. So what do you say?"
"Have fun," replied Charlie gloomily.
"Okay, now I know something's wrong! What happened with Ariane in the past, what, four days? You can't have screwed up that badly in that short of time!" Charlie sighed.
"I guess my only crime is being what I am - a wizard. That's what I get for getting involved with a Muggle, eh?" Charlie tried a weak smile, but failed.
"Charlie, what happened?" Bill asked seriously. Charlie quickly filled him in on Monday's events.
"Wait, okay, so Ariane's father was You-Know-Who's first victim? And then Dad was part of the cleaning crew, but they all forgot to modify the memories?" Bill recapped in disbelief. Charlie nodded miserably.
"And now I think she hates me. I mean, I guess I can understand where she's coming from, but - "
"Charlie. Have you even tried talking to her since?" Charlie shook his head. "I bet you've been going to work and not coming home until you absolutely have to, right? Jeez, Charlie, you've been doing that since you were a kid. Something bad happens and you just work until you drop from exhaustion. You need to stop running and just face it."
"I'm not running," retorted Charlie. "I'm avoiding. There's a difference."
"Running, avoiding, whatever. Talk to her, Charlie. It may just turn out that she had just found out devastating news and her temper was running high. She may have said things that she regrets. Besides that, all she did was tell you to leave. She could have just wanted time to think things over alone. And it's not like she can just owl you and say she's sorry or she can just apparate to your house," scolded Bill. Charlie jutted out his chin stubbornly.
"You don't know her like I do, Bill. I think she meant to leave and not come back."
"Good God, you really can be an obstinate prat sometimes, Charlie. I saw you two at Easter. She really cares for you. I'd even go so far as to say she loves you, and I know that you love her. I'm not blind; all of us could see it."
"Do you really think so?" asked Charlie.
"Yes, you whopping pansy!" cried Bill.
"Okay, enough with the names already!" said Charlie. "I just - I'm not sure what to do about it, you know? Just apparate to her house and tell her what? I don't reckon she'd be too keen on me just showing up at her house!"
"Send her an owl," Bill suggested. "I know she's a Muggle, but she's known about us long enough to know what's going on."
"I suppose."
"Okay, well, I have to get going. Get this sorted out, Charlie. I expect to see you and Ariane in Paris in three days." Bill gave Charlie the coordinates to which he was to apparate, which Charlie grudgingly took down. They said their goodbyes, and Charlie was once again left with a headless fire.
Charlie walked into his bedroom, feet dragging. He didn't want to write Ariane; he wanted to see her. He wanted to hold her, feel her in his arms again. He stood at the foot of his bed for several minutes, contemplating his choices. Finally deciding that he needed to know if it was over or not, he pulled on some jeans and a sweater. Better to talk to her looking 'normal' he reasoned. Taking in a deep breath, he apparated to Ariane's flat, and sat waiting on her front step until she came home from work.
* * *
Ariane sat at her desk, and filled out the last form of the day. Not yet a clinical psychologist, as she was still working on her doctorate, she was often stuck with the paperwork. She didn't mind staying after work - at least not this week. One of her coworkers, Dierdre Westley, poked her head over Ariane's desk.
"Hey, Ariane," she said. "What do you say you and I go and get a drink after this? See if we can still pull a few numbers." Ariane smiled, but sighed.
"Sorry, Dierdre. Just not in the mood, I guess."
"You aren't still on about that chap, are you? You never even let any of us meet him!"
"There were reasons for that. Besides, I'd really just like to go home and take a long hot bath."
"Suit yourself then. Don't stay too late - people will start thinking you're our new resident workaholic." Ariane gave a wane smile and turned back to her desk. She stared at her computer blankly for several minutes, and then shut it down. She grabbed her coat and purse and headed toward the front of the building. A bath really did sound like the best plan for the evening, and she intended to get on with it as soon as possible.
As she pulled up to her driveway, she noticed a familiar redhead sitting on her doorstep. She really hadn't expected Charlie to show up today; nay, she hadn't expected him to show up ever again. Not after the way she had spoken to him. But now that he was here, she felt a surge of anger, her guard going up. She slowly turned the ignition off and got out of the car. Charlie stood up as she walked toward him.
"Ariane, I -"
"What are you doing here, Charlie?"
"Straight to the point, as ever, I see." Ariane simply stared, waiting for him to answer her question. "Right, then," he sighed. "I guess I'm here because I need to know."
"Know what?"
"About us, Ariane. I realize that you've been hurt, that your family has been torn apart. But - I guess - well, I just don't think that should ruin what we had."
"And what did we have, Charlie? A relationship based on a lie?"
"No, Ariane. We had a relationship based in love. Because I loved you. I still do." Ariane looked down at the ground. She heaved a great sigh and pushed past him into her flat. Charlie turned and watched her go inside.
"Well? Aren't you coming in? I thought you wanted to talk. So let's talk, Charlie Weasley." Unsure if this was a good sign or not, Charlie followed her inside. Ariane gestured to the couch. "Sit down."
"Ariane, I know that we've only known each other for a couple of months," he started. "But we really had something special. When it's right, it's right. And we were right -"
"Stop, Charlie," she interrupted. She rubbed her temples for a few seconds before she started talking again. "God, this is an awkward situation. Listen, Charlie, the past two months with you have been some of the best of my life. But, I don't know. It's just that I'm having a really hard time accepting the means of my father's death, and then the whole involvement with your father. It's just - "
"Hard to get a firm grasp on," he finished. "Ariane, I've been having the same problems," he said. "I am not any happier about this information than you are. But at the same time, I had nothing to do with it. And if you let this come between us, then the man that killed your father is still at large. He may have been defeated, but he's still coming between people! Ariane, he killed countless people, him and his followers. Remember Harry? My brother Ron's friend, the one with the black hair and glasses? His parents were killed when he was only a little baby. He's never known his parents. You are not the only victim here, Ariane! And even if you are a victim, you're choosing to let yourself be one. I'm asking you to choose something different; if not for me, then for yourself. Especially for yourself. Don't let this man, this disgrace of a wizard, ruin anything else. Don't let him come between us, because if you do, he's still winning." Charlie's blue eyes flashed intensely throughout his speech.
Ariane found it hard to keep eye contact, but she knew that all of what he was saying was true. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that nothing would come out. It seemed as though she had come down with a huge case of laryngitis, and instead of speaking vocally, two tears fell down her cheeks. Charlie noticed them and wiped them away.
"Look, Ariane, I'm sorry, but I had to say it. Not all of us are the same, Ariane. Most wizards or witches would never hurt a fly. I know I'm an obstinate prat sometimes, even a 'whopping pansy' - "
"Charlie, what are you talking about?" He had started rambling nonsense, giving Ariane back her voice.
"I don't know. I guess - I guess I should leave." Ariane didn't know how to react to what he had said, so she stood up with him as he headed towards the door. "Um, listen. If what I've said to you makes you change your mind about us, I'll be in Paris this weekend, with Bill and some girl he's met. We'll be staying at a Muggle hotel. I want you to join us." Charlie wrote down the name of the hotel. With no expression on her face, Ariane took the piece of paper that he had written on. Charlie gave her one last look, kissed her cheek hesitantly, and apparated from her flat. Alone once more, Ariane looked down at the paper.
"'Meet me in the lobby at seven. Hôtel Malte Opéra, 63 Rue de Richelieu. I love you, Charlie'," Ariane read out loud. She didn't know what to do. Sure, she had thought it all out in her head before, what she would say to him, but now that he had come and gone, with her practically silent throughout, she was back in square one.
Ariane knew all of what he said was true. But going to Paris would constitute as running after him, wouldn't it? Ariane walked to the dresser in her room and pulled out a piece of paper with a list that she had written two years ago. She read it to herself, thinking about her present situation.
'I will never run after a guy. Not a one of them is worth it. It'd only add up to my humiliation and their annoyance. I will never feel sorry for myself. It does me no good and it doesn't help the situation. I am not a victim. I never have been, and I never will be. I will have a good time. Staying unhappy for more than one hour at a time is unhealthy and isn't worthwhile anyways.' Ariane had written this after her the ending of a particularly nasty relationship, and she had stuck to it fairly well ever since. Until now: she was debating running after Charlie, even though he had given her open invitation to. She'd been feeling sorry for herself for the past week. She'd been a victim of - what was his name? Voldemort? She'd been a victim of him ever since her mother told her of her father's death almost a week ago. And she'd been unhappy. So unhappy that she'd cried herself to sleep for the past week, and she'd never done that in her life.
Ariane looked again at the scrawled note that Charlie had written with the hotel information on it. She couldn't run after him. It would be invading into her integrity. She crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash can. Ariane looked longingly at the trash, wanting to pull the note back out, but she wouldn't allow herself to. Taking a deep breath, she turned on her heel and turned on the bath.
* * *
"Hey, Bill!" Charlie called to his older brother.
"Charlie!" Bill walked across the lobby, and enveloped his younger brother into a hug. "Where's Ariane?"
"She'll be here later tonight," answered Charlie.
"Good deal."
"So tell me, Bill, how is it that you managed two rooms for three nights at a hotel like this in Paris?" Bill's tanned face broke into a grin.
"Well, we've got a new worker in Egypt, straight out of Beauxbatons. Apparently she has connections here - Muggle relatives of some sort. Distant, but relatives all the same. Anyhow, I bet her - er - something, and, well, I won, and so we have two rooms for three nights, free of charge with as much room service as we want!" Charlie looked at his brother, wanting to ask what the bet had been, but knew from past experiences not to pry - yet. Charlie looked over his brother's shoulder.
"So where's this girl that you were talking about?"
"Oh, yes. Well, that's the one that I had the bet with. Part of the winnings included her joining us. That's her, right there." Bill pointed at a beautiful young woman, speaking rapidly in French to one of the managers of the hotel. Charlie squinted.
"Bill, that's not - is it?" Charlie looked at his brother in disbelief. Bill nodded proudly.
"Yup. Fleur Delacour."
"From the Triwizard Tournament?" Bill nodded again. Charlie nodded in appreciation. "I had no clue that she wanted to go into your line of work," Charlie commented.
"Well, who wouldn't, when they could have me as a coworker?" Charlie rolled his eyes good naturedly.
"So are we checked in and all that?"
"Yeah, rooms 345 and 347. Here's your key." Bill fished around in his pockets for a moment, and then handed Charlie a card key.
"This is a key?"
"Apparently. You slide it in this thing on the door - supposedly more safe that way."
Charlie shook his head. "Muggles."
"I know. So when's Ariane getting here?" Charlie didn't answer straight away, and Bill started prying harder. "Charlie? She is coming, right?"
"I hope so," Charlie muttered.
"You hope so? Charles Anthony Weasley, didn't you talk to her?"
"Yeah, I did! That night, right after you and I spoke! I told her to meet me here at seven, but she didn't say if she would or not."
"Great," said Bill sarcastically, throwing his hands in the air. Fleur came walking up to the two red headed men.
"'Ello," she said to Charlie, holding out her hand. "'Oo must be Bill's younger bruzzer, iz zat correct?"
"Yes," said Charlie, shaking her hand.
"'Oo look fameeliar."
"Er, yes, I was one of the dragon handlers at the Triwizard Tournament."
"Zat iz right. I remember now. Come. Ve vill go to our rooms now to settle in and zen ve can go for deener heer in ze restaurant." The two men followed her to the elevators and into their respective rooms.
Half an hour later, the three met in the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel, just off from the lobby. All three opened their menus, Bill and Charlie both had to ask Fleur for help in deciphering what each dish was. When the waiter came, Fleur had to order for all three, being the only one who spoke French. Charlie kept looking at the clock on the wall as it crept nearer to seven o'clock.
"Relax, mate," said Bill. "From what you've told me, I think she'll show." Charlie had filled Bill in, word-for-word, as to what he said to Ariane only two nights prior. They finished their dinner quickly, and Bill escorted Fleur up to the room that they were sharing. Charlie walked out to the lobby to wait. His palms were sweaty, and he was sure that his insides were going to burst if they got any tighter.
"Monsieur? Où est l'Arc de Triomphe ? Ma femme et moi, nous n'habitons pas de Paris, et nous voulons voir les sites historiques." A man had come up to Charlie, rambling in French. Unable to understand a word, Charlie shrugged his shoulders and pointed to a hotel employee. The man grumbled off, frustrated with Charlie, apparently not understanding that the most French that Charlie knew was "Bonjour." Romanian he could handle; French, never. During the five minutes that Charlie was distracted, he had forgotten about the time. It was now five after seven, and Ariane was nowhere to be seen. Charlie decided to wait a few more minutes. Maybe she had traveling problems. Or maybe she had gotten into a car accident on the way here. His heart wrenched at the thought.
Stop it, Weasley, he told himself. Thinking like this is not going to help anyone! She's not hurt; she's just a little late, he tried to convince himself. Soon, though, it was half past seven, then eight, and then eight thirty. Charlie had just started towards the elevators when he heard someone call his name. Someone with a British accent. He turned to see Ariane running towards him, and he caught her in his arms, and they just held each other for an undeterminable amount of time.
*A/N: Wow. This is getting so chick-flicky (getting?? It was from the beginning!). Sorry about that. BTW, I don't know exactly how the "fire communication" thing is initiated, so I just had Bill's head pop up in Charlie's fireplace. Anyone with info on that please let me in on it! Also, I looked up Charlie's middle name, and I read somewhere that it was Anthony, but any info to the contrary, again, please let me know. Anyhow, thanks for reading. Review if you wish. Again, sorry it took so long to post this chapter. Oh yeah, and I'm not sure if I wrote Fleur's accent correctly, so I apologize if it's too German or Swedish or whatever.