Spiritus aduro
Part IX
As Ria left the house Charlie stood, open mouthed, realising that he had well and truly put his foot in it this time. He also had a rather uncomfortable feeling of guilt, because his intent had not been to upset Ria, but rather to help her. Evidently he should never become a therapist. The whole outburst had stemmed from a letter he had received that morning from Tom. Although Ria denied it, Charlie was positive that she and Thomas Kettleworth were in some way related, especially after what Tom had told him about his mother in the pyramid. With this in mind Charlie had written to Tom not long after returning from Romania, asking him to investigate further. Tom's reply was exactly what Charlie had suspected - the rumours had been true, and Helena Kettleworth had had an illegitimate baby daughter before she married Thomas' father. Tom had added a note to the effect that it was his mother's greatest wish to be reunited with her daughter. Charlie, convinced that the likeness between Ria, Livvy and Tom was more than coincidence, had considered it his duty to broach the matter with Ria herself. Ria clearly disagreed.
"What was all that about?" Merri demanded of him. Charlie shrugged. It wasn't his business to tell, even if Merri was practically part of the family now. Inwardly, Charlie groaned. The family! Months ago he had promised his mother that he would visit her in the near future, and after much negotiation (his visit had to fit in with the family activities) they had agreed that his visit was to take place at the beginning of November. In fact, he was due to leave for The Burrow in about ten minutes. Fortunately he had packed and so forth the previous day. It was Ria's reaction that had made him forget.
"Merri, I can't stop," he said, realising that the trip to Ottery St Catchpole offered an ideal escape route. "I promised Mum I'd be home today, and that means I have to leave now." He Disapparated, leaving a thoroughly bemused Merri frowning at where he had been standing.
Usually, international magical travel was a palaver that made most people stick to their own country or use Muggle transport. However, it was impractical for those working at the Dragon Reserve to have to go through the whole routine when returning to their native countries and consequently Direct Floo Links had been created between the various nations and the reserve. In theory, this should have meant that employees of the Reserve could travel to any of the countries represented at the reserve without having to bother with Customs. In practise, this was not the case. A witch or wizard could only use a Direct Floo Link when travelling to his or her own land, and even then there were papers to fill out in triplicate, something that most people did before arriving at the transport platform to save time. In spite of what may have been considered the inconvenience of the bureaucratic restrictions, the Direct Floo Links were well used with people who did not want to wait for hours at customs every time they visited friends and relatives 'at home'. Charlie, in a rare moment of (Merri inspired) organisation, had filled in his forms a couple of days ago, and so could use the Direct Floo Links immediately. The British Link took employees to the Leaky Cauldron. From there they were expected to make their own way home. Grimacing - he'd never enjoyed travelling through the Floo Network - Charlie took a pinch of the powder and threw it into the fire, before stating his name, number and nationality. The Direct Floo Links worked differently from the normal Floo Network because they only had one destination. The information that Charlie was obliged to repeat was simply a protocol designed to minimise the risk of unauthorised use of the system.
* * * *
The Leaky Cauldron would never change. The smoky interior of the pub that was the gateway into wizarding London was comfortingly familiar in a world that was constantly changing. No matter when you arrived or whom you planned to see, you could guarantee that there would be an odd mix of people and creatures within the tavern. But home comforts were the last thing on Charlie's mind when he fell out of the fireplace. He was far too busy worrying about Ria to see the hag sitting by the bar munching on something that belied contemplation, or to pay any attention to the group of seedy looking men eyeing a young woman from the safety of a table in a dark corner.
Ria had been more than a little upset when he had left. Well, actually, he wasn't entirely sure what she had been when he had left, because she had chosen a couple of minutes before his departure to leave the house in an emotional outburst that was very unusual for Ria, someone who kept her emotions bottled up as much as possible.
"Charlie! You're home! Oh, thank goodness, I thought you'd forgotten!" Molly Weasley fell upon her son with maternal tenderness when he Apparated into the kitchen of the Burrow, still worrying about his friend. He pushed his concerns to the back of his mind, and concentrated on greeting his mother.
"Would I forget you?" he demanded, smiling as he returned the hug.
"You have before," Molly Weasley told him, sternly.
"When?"
"Well, there was the Christmas before last, and then there was…" Mrs Weasley launched into a lengthy exposition of Charlie's forgetfulness. He smiled ruefully at her - if elephants never forgot then his mother must have been one in a previous life.
"Okay, Mum, I get the picture," he told her, laughing.
"Yes, well," Molly was trying her hardest to look miffed, and failing miserably. "You're here now, and your father will be home shortly. I don't know, they work him far too hard at the Ministry, and they don't pay him nearly enough." Charlie had heard it all before, but he agreed with his mother's sentiments. He also thought he knew just why it was that his father had not been promoted. It was Arthur Weasley's fascination with all things Muggle that kept him back at the Ministry, and with Cornelius Fudge in charge, that didn't surprise him. He had a suspicion that his mother shared his hypothesis.
"How are the kids?" he asked, by way of changing the subject.
"Fred and George will be the death of me one day," his mother told him, as she poured batter into a dish full of sausages. "Always busy playing tricks, never bothering about their schoolwork. Don't they realise that they need to get OWL's if they want to work with your father?"
"Perhaps they don't want to work with Dad," Charlie suggested.
"Well, where else would they work?" Molly demanded. "I understand why you and Bill aren't working at the Ministry, even if you do have much more intelligence than some of the bumbling fools there. You always wanted to work with dragons, even as a little boy, and Bill's always been keen on travelling and particularly good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, so the Gringotts job was a blessing for him. But the twins … the only thing they ever worry about is who to pull the next prank on." Charlie could sense the frustrated pride in his mother's ranting. "…They even 'borrowed' your father's car in summer. For good reasons, but still…"
"What about Ron? How's he doing?"
"Ron. Yes, I suppose you know I got an owl from Hogwarts about him. The first day of term - even Fred and George have never gone that far. Ron seems to have taken a leaf from their book - he flew your father's car to school with Harry. I can't imagine why he didn't just wait. Didn't the silly boy realise that your father and I would never allow the two of them to not get to Hogwarts!" Charlie was beginning to regret asking. "Really, Ron should follow Percy's example. Now, Percy, he's got it all worked out. He's determined to go into the Ministry, and really dedicated. Almost too dedicated, but I'd never dream of telling him that." Evidently Percy was still as much of a mother's boy as ever, then. "Now, dear, tell me all about your life. Do you have a girlfriend yet?" Charlie raised his eyebrows at his mother. That was the classic question, the question she asked every time. He wasn't sure why she asked it, mind you. Neither he nor Bill were in the market for a marriage just yet…he spluttered as he thought of Ria and Bill getting married. No, neither of them were ready for wives, and his mother was far too young to be a grandma, anyway.
"No, none yet," he told her, cheerfully. Molly tutted.
"I had children when I was your age," she pointed out. "You can't wait around forever, Charlie. Surely there must be someone!"
"I can't say I've noticed," Charlie told her.
"What about the girls you work with?" Molly pressed him.
"No. Honestly, Mum, I promise I'll invite you to the wedding when I eventually find my soul mate."
"Wedding? Who said anything about a wedding? So there is someone?"
"NO!" Charlie shouted, beginning to get exasperated.
"Well, there's no need to shout," his mother told him matter-of-factly. "I just worry about you, all alone with no one to cook and clean for you, or do your ironing." Charlie hid a smile. He had a sudden image of Ria wearing his mother's flowery apron in the kitchen. The only difference was, where his mother's kitchen was clean and tidy, with pots bubbling gently while she did the ironing, Ria's kitchen looked like a bomb had hit. As for the ironing … well, that was practically non-existent after an unfortunate interlude with the potatoes, which had involved Ria leaving the iron on the robes while rescuing the spuds. He was the one who did the cooking and the ironing! Fortunately, his father appeared at that moment, saving him from having to respond.
"Good evening, Molly, dear, sorry I'm late. Mildred Jingo was Muggle- baiting - again!" Suddenly Arthur noticed his son.
"Charlie! How nice to see you, son! How are you?" Charlie smiled at his father. Nothing much had changed. All that the house needed now was a few siblings to add some clutter and noise, and he would swear that he had taken a trip back in time. "How's work?" Charlie was eternally grateful that his father wasn't fixated on romance as he launched into an explanation of the ins and outs of the dragon reserve. It was good to be home.
* * * *
Home was possibly Charlie's favourite place in the world, and not just because of Mrs Weasley's fantastic cooking. Cornwall was home to some incredibly beautiful beaches that were ideal for walking along and thinking, and an excellent way for Charlie to escape from the loving attention of his mother. Much as he loved Molly, there were times when being the sole beneficiary of her boundless maternal enthusiasm was more tiring than he liked to admit. At times like those he walked along the miles of coastline, taking in the beauty of his surroundings and enjoying the isolation. He had added reason to visit his thinking place today; he needed to decide what to do about Ria. He had owled Merri to see how she was, and was alarmed to find that she hadn't been back to the house in Romania since her dramatic exit almost a week earlier. Merri had added a postscript telling him that Jon had said she was fine, but even so. It was something that Charlie wasn't sure how to deal with because he was positive that he was right. Helena Kettleworth might not be Ria's natural mother, but it would be good for his friend to take up the opportunity when it was open. Charlie knew how much Ria's origins bothered her, how much it hurt her to think that she wasn't wanted, even though she was wanted by scores of people. Her natural parents hadn't wanted her, and until she knew the full story, Charlie was pretty certain that she would never be happy within herself. As far as Ria was concerned, until she knew the truth her life would be a question mark. Charlie wasn't sure how he knew all this but he did.
He was aiming for his favourite thinking spot, a stony cliff. If you climbed it then you came to a large rock that was ideal sitting and looking at the sea. To his surprise, someone else was already there. Dark hair flew like a banner in the wind, the tassels of a scarf providing a colourful foreground against the black canvas. Whoever it was wore a Gryffindor scarf; Charlie would recognise his house colours anywhere. She had their back to him. He was just about to turn around and leave her to think when she turned to face him. Charlie stood still in amazement. He knew the piquant features; had seen them almost every day for the last three years.
"Charlie? What on earth are you doing here?" Ria sounded almost angry with him.
"I live here," he pointed out.
"No you don't," she replied. He supposed she had a point - most of the time he lived with her. But still, Cornwall was his home.
"I'm visiting the folks," he told her.
"Yes, I remember," she replied, somewhat distantly. "I didn't realise you took seaside walks." The unspoken implication was that if she'd known she would have taken herself elsewhere.
"Look, Ria, about the other day," Charlie began awkwardly.
"Forget it," Ria said, shortly.
"You do know I'm sorry I upset you, don't you?" Charlie persisted.
"Yes, I do. Drop it, Charlie." Ria stood up, as if to leave.
"Why are you here?" he asked. She looked at him.
"I'm visiting Jack," she explained. "You remember Jack? My boyfriend- turned-best-friend."
"The maternal one who lives in Dover?"
"Exactly. Only he moved to Cornwall. Better air, apparently. I needed maternal comfort after what you proposed, and Jack was the best refuge I could think of. I could hardly explain why I was upset to my mother, could I?" There was a soft reproach in Ria's words. "I also needed to think about what you said."
"And have you?" Charlie asked, tentatively. Ria nodded.
"That's why I'm here. I needed to straighten everything out." Charlie looked at her quizzically. "I've decided to do as you suggest," she told him, her expression closed. "But I need to see Mums and Daddy first. I couldn't not. I was trying to work out the best way to tell them."
"Did you come up with a solution?" Charlie asked.
"No," Ria replied, regretfully. "But Jack was right, you can't run away from your problems, so I might as well face this one now."
"Do you want moral support?" Charlie asked, unsure of whether it was the right thing to say or not.
"That would be good," Ria replied, smiling at him. It wasn't her usual smile, and it didn't convey happiness. It was a grateful smile, and in a way, it showed more of the true Ria than any of her other expressions. He offered her his hand, and she took it. "Thank you."
* * * *
Charlie soon realised that offering Ria moral support meant foregoing his last day at The Burrow. He got around the inevitable thirty questions his mother asked by telling her that he was visiting an old school friend. He didn't like to lie to her, but if he mentioned Ria she'd only get the wrong end of the stick, and he didn't have the energy to explain the complexity of their relationship. It seemed to satisfy her, and after airing many maternal worries and orders she allowed him to Disapparate to the house of Ria's friend, Jack.
"Charlie!" Jack greeted him. "Ri won't be a minute. She's beautifying herself. Power-dressing, you know." Charlie smiled. Jack and his partner Tom were two of the nicest people he had ever met. He didn't know either of them particularly well - only through Ria - but the two of them tended to treat everyone as a part of their family.
"There's nothing wrong with power dressing," Tom called from the kitchen. A smell of bacon and eggs was drifting through the house. "Oh, and Charlie - Jack lied. She'll be more than a minute, because she's not leaving this house until she's had something to eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know, and the little madam is bound to skip it if we don't insist."
"I heard that," Ria's voice floated down the staircase.
"You were supposed to," Jack yelled.
"I know," Ria shouted back. There was the sound of feet on the stairs, and then she materialised. "What was that about breakfast? Smells good, Tom."
"Naturally," Tom smiled at her. "Sit down and eat, my dear."
"Yes, Mum," Ria smiled back.
"Do you want some, Charlie?" Jack asked, and although Charlie knew he was being polite, there was a genuine invitation in his tone.
"I'm okay, thanks. My mother is a great believer in big breakfasts."
"A woman after my own heart," Tom told him.
* * * *
"…And you take care of her," Jack told Charlie, firmly. Charlie fought to keep a grin off of his face, because really, Jack and Tom were acting more like Ria's parents than her friends. He smiled and nodded to humour them, however. It had dawned on him that he would be meeting Alex and Rosamunde Rutherford today, and he wasn't entirely sure just how Ria was going to explain him away. He was beginning to wonder if his presence would be more of a hindrance than a help, in fact. But he had offered moral support, and he was going to give it. He felt Ria slip her hand into his as they walked away from the house, and was surprised at the feeling of warmth her touch generated. Maybe the unspoken pressure he was under was getting to him. After Ria's initial reaction to the whole 'I think I've found your mother' situation, Charlie was beginning to question the logic of taking her to meet Helena after all. Why did he always get cold feet after convincing everyone that his idea was a good one?
"Are you ready for this?" he asked Ria.
"As I'll ever be," she replied and he gently squeezed her hand, before the two of them Disapparated in tandem.
In a blur, they found themselves at the end of a long and muddy lane, bordered by a dark wooden fence covered in greenery. In summer, Charlie guessed that that lane would be one of the most tranquil places on earth, surrounded by scents and colours to stimulate the imagination. There were no blooms at the beginning of November, however, and so Charlie and Ria squelched along the pathway companionably.
"Where exactly are we?" Charlie asked, curiously.
"Buttercup Lane," Ria told him. "Penarddun Place is on an offshoot about one hundred yards from where we are now. You can't Apparate there, though - that's one of the few wards that Dad still maintains. I can remember a time when Penarddun was almost as safe as Hogwarts - back when You-Know-Who was around. Those wards had been up for centuries what with all the wars that have raged at various times, Grandpa saw fit to keep them all in good use. When Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who, Dad decided that we didn't need most of the wards and it was stupid to treat Penarddun like a medieval fortress, but he kept the Anti-Apparition wards. Apparently people appreciate the grounds more if they walk through them." As they turned up the offshoot that Ria had referred to, Charlie was amazed at the difference in landscape. The path was now gravelled, surrounded by neatly kept lawns with floral borders that were bright with colour even now. In the distance he could see a majestic house with the Rutherford family crest flying from one of its turrets. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Ria's wistful smile.
"Wow." It was all he could think of saying. Whatever he had expected, it certainly wasn't this.
"Welcome to Penarddun," Ria said. "We just have to follow the pretty gravel path now, until we reach the house." They crunched up the path, neither of them talking. Ria, it seemed, was lost in thought, and Charlie was far too busy taking in the surrounding land to indulge in small talk. At last they came to a huge oak door with a large brass knocker. Charlie stood aside, allowing Ria to do the honours. Three sharp raps rang in the still air.
Just as Charlie was beginning to wonder whether anyone would ever let them in, the door opened slowly to reveal a grey haired woman with a pointy nose and square glasses, someone who reminded him of Professor McGonagall. When she spoke, her Scottish tones only heightened the comparison.
"Miss Ria! We weren't expecting to see you here!"
"I wasn't expecting to be here, Jemima," Ria said, smiling cordially and she entered the warmth of the house. Charlie followed her and allowed 'Jemima' to slam the door behind him.
"Jemima Langley, this is Charlie Weasley, one of my colleagues. Charlie, this is Jemima, our housekeeper."
"Pleased to meet you," Charlie said, nodding. Jemima returned his nod, but it was clear she was more interested in Ria than in him.
"You should have owled, Miss Ria," she chastised as though Ria were still a small girl and not a fully-grown woman. "The master and the mistress are visiting Miss Lucy and we're not expecting them back until dinner time."
"I can wait," Ria replied. "And we don't want to put you out - we can always go out for lunch if it will be a problem."
"Nonsense," Jemima said, firmly. "You'll eat here. Heaven forbid that Jemima Langley turn you out of your own home when there's soup brewing in the kitchen with plenty spare, and a good country loaf too, I'll warrant. I'll make arrangements."
"Oh, no, Jimsie," Ria said, hastily. "We'll be perfectly at home in the kitchen - I'd hate to put you out!"
"Now, Miss Ria, if it were just you then you know I'd not think twice about having you in my kitchen. But you have a guest, and I'll warrant that Mr Weasley doesn't want to eat in the Servant's Hall. No, Miss Ria, I'll have young Brown lay the table in the Breakfast Room for you - there's a nice fire going in there." Jemima turned on her heel and marched off, even as Ria began to complain.
"Jimsie was Mums' governess before Mums went to Hogwarts," Ria explained. "When Mums married Daddy she moved here with her, and she's been housekeeper ever since. She still calls Lucy and Becca and Gemma Miss, even though they're all married. Bless her, she thinks we're all still little children. She's very set in her ways, is Jemima. Heaven forbid that my guest should eat in the kitchen, and never mind that I used to spend more time with her than in the Nursery. Come on, and I'll show you your room - Jemima will have ordered for the Blue Room to be prepared, I'll bet." Charlie wasn't used to this upper class society, where people had servants and guest bedrooms and huge houses, and where there were politics that even Ria couldn't change.
"Why don't you have house-elves?" he asked, following Ria obediently.
"Because they won't accept pay," Ria told him, matter-of-factly. "The people that work here are people that need work. People who would be living on the street. That's where half of our staff was found, you know. On the streets. They like working here - it's not as Victorian as it might seem to you. Jimsie might insist on calling me Miss Ria, but most of the others don't. We're one big family, really."
"I still don't understand," Charlie admitted.
"Don't be offended, Charlie, but I didn't expect you to. You've been normal all your life. You think that I have everything going for me, with wealth and a loving family and a big house. But with money and authority comes duty, or so Daddy's always told us."
"And you choose to slum it in Romania," Charlie wondered. "You could have spent your whole life in luxury here!"
"No," Ria said, softly, before murmuring something so quietly that Charlie looked at her questioningly. But she shook her head and showed him into the guest room.
* * * *
"What I don't understand is why you're set on doing this," Alexander Rutherford told Ria quietly, after she had explained that she wished to go to Birmingham lest her birth mother was there. Charlie had sat offering silent support as Ria had stumbled over the words that she knew would hurt her parents.
"Alex," Rosamunde spoke to her husband gently, "we always knew this day might come, and we always said we'd support Ria if this was what she wanted to do."
"I know," Alex said, heavily. "But you're still my little girl, Ria. I want you to know that. Whatever the circumstances of your birth, from the day that Jemima laid you in my arms after she found you on the doorstep, you became mine. You were such a precious little scrap, and I would have sworn that you were smiling at me. You've always been part of the family, Ri, and we don't want to lost you."
"You won't lose me!" Ria hastened to reassure him. "You are my family. You always will be. You'll always be my Mums and Daddy. That will never ever change, no matter how many other mothers and fathers I come across. You took me in when other people would have thrown me out, and you raised me as your own. You've been better to me than many 'real' parents are to their children. I promise you that I will always be a Rutherford." At this, Rosamunde and Alex smiled at their youngest daughter.
"Then do what you have to do," Rosamunde bade Ria. "Go in the knowledge that you have our blessing and our love."
* * * *
"You see this one?" Alex Rutherford was showing Charlie some of the family photo albums. "That's Ria when she was seven." Charlie smirked as a miniature Ria waved at him, a moment stopped in time, her two front teeth missing, black hair messily tied back in pigtails, half immersed in the large lake that Ria had promised to show him before they left Penarddun.
"She looks just like Livvy," he said, in a moment of unguarded reflection.
"We've always thought that peculiar," Alex agreed. "You're right, of course. Young Livvy is the spitting image of Ria. They're similar in character too - little rebels, the both of them. Olivia nearly gave the whole family heart failure when she and Claire took it upon themselves to visit Ria in Romania."
"It's the type of thing that most children only dream of doing," Charlie agreed.
"Yes, Lucy and Becca keep the Floo Powder under lock and key now. Those granddaughters of mine - never a dull moment when those two are around!" Charlie grinned. He knew someone else like that. Suddenly someone covered his eyes with their hands.
"Guess who?" she demanded.
"Kate," Charlie responded, mischievously.
"I thought you'd got over her," Ria responded, moving her hands away and squeezing herself between her friend and father on the large settee. Before Charlie could reply, she realised what they were looking at. "Daddy!" she squealed. "How could you?"
"Now, now, your holiness," Charlie began, sternly. "You were a very cute child. Don't deny me the pleasure of laughing at you in your youth."
"No fair!" Ria complained. "I haven't seen any pictures of baby Charlie!"
"Nor will you ever, if I have a say in it," Charlie replied.
* * * *
All good things have to come to an end, or so they said, and it was with great reluctance that Charlie and Ria left Penarddun Place late that evening, destined for Birmingham. In the short time that he had been there, Charlie had learnt just why it was that Ria spoke so fondly of her family home. There was a peacefulness surrounding the old house, and a sense of shelter. Ria, of course, had ghosts in her past that may well have marred the perfection of her surroundings, but even so, it was evident that she loved Penarddun. The Rutherfords were synonymous with the beautiful house, and now that Charlie had met them, it weighed heavily on his conscience that they didn't realise he lived with their daughter. After the initial shock of it he was sure that they would understand the lack of romance between the two of them. Ria was insistent that they should not know, however, and it was Ria's call. Besides, Charlie didn't really have the right to rock her boat any more - he had disturbed her comfortable momentum enough when he revealed his suspicions about her parentage. The Rutherfords waved until Charlie and Ria were out of sight and once the two of them reached Buttercup Lane they Disapparated to Birmingham.
* * * *
Looking around him, Charlie reflected that a quiet life in Cornwall, a sheltered life at Hogwarts and an isolated life in Romania could never compare to life in the city. The hustle and bustle of the people in Birmingham was normal enough, but the sheer volume of them was enough to make him stand stock-still and stare. Ria was taking in her surroundings in an equally wide-eyed fashion.
"Should there be this many people around at this time of night?" she demanded.
"How would I know?" Charlie countered. "I've never been here before in my life!"
"Funny, that, because neither have I," Ria returned, in a cutting fashion. "Do you even know where we're going, Charles?"
"Yes!" Charlie replied, defensively. "Well…I have a vague idea. I'm sure we can ask for directions." Ria shot him an incredulous look before replying.
"I'm sure we can. But right now, all I want to do is sleep, if that's all right with you. No offence, but it's been a long day."
"Sleep is good," Charlie agreed. "It would involve finding a hotel, though."
"Why bother?" Ria asked, slowly. "There are plenty of inns around here." They were in Birmingham's equivalent of Diagon Alley.
"You must be joking!" Charlie laughed. "They'll all have been booked up by businessmen. There's no way we'll find anywhere with two rooms going spare. We'd be lucky to even get one!"
"Do we really need two rooms?" Ria asked him, quietly. "One would be enough. I don't mind sharing if you don't."
"Are you sure?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow at her. That was not an Ariadne Rutherford type thing to say.
"Positive," she replied firmly. "I don't particularly want to be on my own, anyway. Besides, you're hardly likely to assault me."
Charlie frowned at her, before nodding.
"Okay. You've got yourself a deal. We'd better hope that there's some kind of sofa."
* * * *
Asleep, Ria looked like a vulnerable child. Charlie rolled on his side to examine her more thoroughly. The long black lashes formed curling half moons on her cheeks, stained pink with sleep, and her hand cushioned her face. Suddenly, Charlie was seized with an urge to protect her. Or maybe it was more than that. He shook himself. It was bad enough that he was sharing a bed with his brother's girlfriend. Now was definitely not the time to start wondering about other things. Why was he awake, anyway? He was practically dead on his feet - they must have been to about six inns before finally getting a room. A room with a bed and not much else in it. Not even a sofa. Being a gentleman, he'd offered to sleep on the floor, but Ria wouldn't have it. The bed was huge, she'd said. Plenty of space for both of them. And so, he was lying there, watching his best friend, who also happened to be his brother's girlfriend, sleeping. At midnight. Sometimes he worried about his sanity. Other times, he just accepted that life was a lot more complicated than he liked to admit.
Part IX
As Ria left the house Charlie stood, open mouthed, realising that he had well and truly put his foot in it this time. He also had a rather uncomfortable feeling of guilt, because his intent had not been to upset Ria, but rather to help her. Evidently he should never become a therapist. The whole outburst had stemmed from a letter he had received that morning from Tom. Although Ria denied it, Charlie was positive that she and Thomas Kettleworth were in some way related, especially after what Tom had told him about his mother in the pyramid. With this in mind Charlie had written to Tom not long after returning from Romania, asking him to investigate further. Tom's reply was exactly what Charlie had suspected - the rumours had been true, and Helena Kettleworth had had an illegitimate baby daughter before she married Thomas' father. Tom had added a note to the effect that it was his mother's greatest wish to be reunited with her daughter. Charlie, convinced that the likeness between Ria, Livvy and Tom was more than coincidence, had considered it his duty to broach the matter with Ria herself. Ria clearly disagreed.
"What was all that about?" Merri demanded of him. Charlie shrugged. It wasn't his business to tell, even if Merri was practically part of the family now. Inwardly, Charlie groaned. The family! Months ago he had promised his mother that he would visit her in the near future, and after much negotiation (his visit had to fit in with the family activities) they had agreed that his visit was to take place at the beginning of November. In fact, he was due to leave for The Burrow in about ten minutes. Fortunately he had packed and so forth the previous day. It was Ria's reaction that had made him forget.
"Merri, I can't stop," he said, realising that the trip to Ottery St Catchpole offered an ideal escape route. "I promised Mum I'd be home today, and that means I have to leave now." He Disapparated, leaving a thoroughly bemused Merri frowning at where he had been standing.
Usually, international magical travel was a palaver that made most people stick to their own country or use Muggle transport. However, it was impractical for those working at the Dragon Reserve to have to go through the whole routine when returning to their native countries and consequently Direct Floo Links had been created between the various nations and the reserve. In theory, this should have meant that employees of the Reserve could travel to any of the countries represented at the reserve without having to bother with Customs. In practise, this was not the case. A witch or wizard could only use a Direct Floo Link when travelling to his or her own land, and even then there were papers to fill out in triplicate, something that most people did before arriving at the transport platform to save time. In spite of what may have been considered the inconvenience of the bureaucratic restrictions, the Direct Floo Links were well used with people who did not want to wait for hours at customs every time they visited friends and relatives 'at home'. Charlie, in a rare moment of (Merri inspired) organisation, had filled in his forms a couple of days ago, and so could use the Direct Floo Links immediately. The British Link took employees to the Leaky Cauldron. From there they were expected to make their own way home. Grimacing - he'd never enjoyed travelling through the Floo Network - Charlie took a pinch of the powder and threw it into the fire, before stating his name, number and nationality. The Direct Floo Links worked differently from the normal Floo Network because they only had one destination. The information that Charlie was obliged to repeat was simply a protocol designed to minimise the risk of unauthorised use of the system.
* * * *
The Leaky Cauldron would never change. The smoky interior of the pub that was the gateway into wizarding London was comfortingly familiar in a world that was constantly changing. No matter when you arrived or whom you planned to see, you could guarantee that there would be an odd mix of people and creatures within the tavern. But home comforts were the last thing on Charlie's mind when he fell out of the fireplace. He was far too busy worrying about Ria to see the hag sitting by the bar munching on something that belied contemplation, or to pay any attention to the group of seedy looking men eyeing a young woman from the safety of a table in a dark corner.
Ria had been more than a little upset when he had left. Well, actually, he wasn't entirely sure what she had been when he had left, because she had chosen a couple of minutes before his departure to leave the house in an emotional outburst that was very unusual for Ria, someone who kept her emotions bottled up as much as possible.
"Charlie! You're home! Oh, thank goodness, I thought you'd forgotten!" Molly Weasley fell upon her son with maternal tenderness when he Apparated into the kitchen of the Burrow, still worrying about his friend. He pushed his concerns to the back of his mind, and concentrated on greeting his mother.
"Would I forget you?" he demanded, smiling as he returned the hug.
"You have before," Molly Weasley told him, sternly.
"When?"
"Well, there was the Christmas before last, and then there was…" Mrs Weasley launched into a lengthy exposition of Charlie's forgetfulness. He smiled ruefully at her - if elephants never forgot then his mother must have been one in a previous life.
"Okay, Mum, I get the picture," he told her, laughing.
"Yes, well," Molly was trying her hardest to look miffed, and failing miserably. "You're here now, and your father will be home shortly. I don't know, they work him far too hard at the Ministry, and they don't pay him nearly enough." Charlie had heard it all before, but he agreed with his mother's sentiments. He also thought he knew just why it was that his father had not been promoted. It was Arthur Weasley's fascination with all things Muggle that kept him back at the Ministry, and with Cornelius Fudge in charge, that didn't surprise him. He had a suspicion that his mother shared his hypothesis.
"How are the kids?" he asked, by way of changing the subject.
"Fred and George will be the death of me one day," his mother told him, as she poured batter into a dish full of sausages. "Always busy playing tricks, never bothering about their schoolwork. Don't they realise that they need to get OWL's if they want to work with your father?"
"Perhaps they don't want to work with Dad," Charlie suggested.
"Well, where else would they work?" Molly demanded. "I understand why you and Bill aren't working at the Ministry, even if you do have much more intelligence than some of the bumbling fools there. You always wanted to work with dragons, even as a little boy, and Bill's always been keen on travelling and particularly good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, so the Gringotts job was a blessing for him. But the twins … the only thing they ever worry about is who to pull the next prank on." Charlie could sense the frustrated pride in his mother's ranting. "…They even 'borrowed' your father's car in summer. For good reasons, but still…"
"What about Ron? How's he doing?"
"Ron. Yes, I suppose you know I got an owl from Hogwarts about him. The first day of term - even Fred and George have never gone that far. Ron seems to have taken a leaf from their book - he flew your father's car to school with Harry. I can't imagine why he didn't just wait. Didn't the silly boy realise that your father and I would never allow the two of them to not get to Hogwarts!" Charlie was beginning to regret asking. "Really, Ron should follow Percy's example. Now, Percy, he's got it all worked out. He's determined to go into the Ministry, and really dedicated. Almost too dedicated, but I'd never dream of telling him that." Evidently Percy was still as much of a mother's boy as ever, then. "Now, dear, tell me all about your life. Do you have a girlfriend yet?" Charlie raised his eyebrows at his mother. That was the classic question, the question she asked every time. He wasn't sure why she asked it, mind you. Neither he nor Bill were in the market for a marriage just yet…he spluttered as he thought of Ria and Bill getting married. No, neither of them were ready for wives, and his mother was far too young to be a grandma, anyway.
"No, none yet," he told her, cheerfully. Molly tutted.
"I had children when I was your age," she pointed out. "You can't wait around forever, Charlie. Surely there must be someone!"
"I can't say I've noticed," Charlie told her.
"What about the girls you work with?" Molly pressed him.
"No. Honestly, Mum, I promise I'll invite you to the wedding when I eventually find my soul mate."
"Wedding? Who said anything about a wedding? So there is someone?"
"NO!" Charlie shouted, beginning to get exasperated.
"Well, there's no need to shout," his mother told him matter-of-factly. "I just worry about you, all alone with no one to cook and clean for you, or do your ironing." Charlie hid a smile. He had a sudden image of Ria wearing his mother's flowery apron in the kitchen. The only difference was, where his mother's kitchen was clean and tidy, with pots bubbling gently while she did the ironing, Ria's kitchen looked like a bomb had hit. As for the ironing … well, that was practically non-existent after an unfortunate interlude with the potatoes, which had involved Ria leaving the iron on the robes while rescuing the spuds. He was the one who did the cooking and the ironing! Fortunately, his father appeared at that moment, saving him from having to respond.
"Good evening, Molly, dear, sorry I'm late. Mildred Jingo was Muggle- baiting - again!" Suddenly Arthur noticed his son.
"Charlie! How nice to see you, son! How are you?" Charlie smiled at his father. Nothing much had changed. All that the house needed now was a few siblings to add some clutter and noise, and he would swear that he had taken a trip back in time. "How's work?" Charlie was eternally grateful that his father wasn't fixated on romance as he launched into an explanation of the ins and outs of the dragon reserve. It was good to be home.
* * * *
Home was possibly Charlie's favourite place in the world, and not just because of Mrs Weasley's fantastic cooking. Cornwall was home to some incredibly beautiful beaches that were ideal for walking along and thinking, and an excellent way for Charlie to escape from the loving attention of his mother. Much as he loved Molly, there were times when being the sole beneficiary of her boundless maternal enthusiasm was more tiring than he liked to admit. At times like those he walked along the miles of coastline, taking in the beauty of his surroundings and enjoying the isolation. He had added reason to visit his thinking place today; he needed to decide what to do about Ria. He had owled Merri to see how she was, and was alarmed to find that she hadn't been back to the house in Romania since her dramatic exit almost a week earlier. Merri had added a postscript telling him that Jon had said she was fine, but even so. It was something that Charlie wasn't sure how to deal with because he was positive that he was right. Helena Kettleworth might not be Ria's natural mother, but it would be good for his friend to take up the opportunity when it was open. Charlie knew how much Ria's origins bothered her, how much it hurt her to think that she wasn't wanted, even though she was wanted by scores of people. Her natural parents hadn't wanted her, and until she knew the full story, Charlie was pretty certain that she would never be happy within herself. As far as Ria was concerned, until she knew the truth her life would be a question mark. Charlie wasn't sure how he knew all this but he did.
He was aiming for his favourite thinking spot, a stony cliff. If you climbed it then you came to a large rock that was ideal sitting and looking at the sea. To his surprise, someone else was already there. Dark hair flew like a banner in the wind, the tassels of a scarf providing a colourful foreground against the black canvas. Whoever it was wore a Gryffindor scarf; Charlie would recognise his house colours anywhere. She had their back to him. He was just about to turn around and leave her to think when she turned to face him. Charlie stood still in amazement. He knew the piquant features; had seen them almost every day for the last three years.
"Charlie? What on earth are you doing here?" Ria sounded almost angry with him.
"I live here," he pointed out.
"No you don't," she replied. He supposed she had a point - most of the time he lived with her. But still, Cornwall was his home.
"I'm visiting the folks," he told her.
"Yes, I remember," she replied, somewhat distantly. "I didn't realise you took seaside walks." The unspoken implication was that if she'd known she would have taken herself elsewhere.
"Look, Ria, about the other day," Charlie began awkwardly.
"Forget it," Ria said, shortly.
"You do know I'm sorry I upset you, don't you?" Charlie persisted.
"Yes, I do. Drop it, Charlie." Ria stood up, as if to leave.
"Why are you here?" he asked. She looked at him.
"I'm visiting Jack," she explained. "You remember Jack? My boyfriend- turned-best-friend."
"The maternal one who lives in Dover?"
"Exactly. Only he moved to Cornwall. Better air, apparently. I needed maternal comfort after what you proposed, and Jack was the best refuge I could think of. I could hardly explain why I was upset to my mother, could I?" There was a soft reproach in Ria's words. "I also needed to think about what you said."
"And have you?" Charlie asked, tentatively. Ria nodded.
"That's why I'm here. I needed to straighten everything out." Charlie looked at her quizzically. "I've decided to do as you suggest," she told him, her expression closed. "But I need to see Mums and Daddy first. I couldn't not. I was trying to work out the best way to tell them."
"Did you come up with a solution?" Charlie asked.
"No," Ria replied, regretfully. "But Jack was right, you can't run away from your problems, so I might as well face this one now."
"Do you want moral support?" Charlie asked, unsure of whether it was the right thing to say or not.
"That would be good," Ria replied, smiling at him. It wasn't her usual smile, and it didn't convey happiness. It was a grateful smile, and in a way, it showed more of the true Ria than any of her other expressions. He offered her his hand, and she took it. "Thank you."
* * * *
Charlie soon realised that offering Ria moral support meant foregoing his last day at The Burrow. He got around the inevitable thirty questions his mother asked by telling her that he was visiting an old school friend. He didn't like to lie to her, but if he mentioned Ria she'd only get the wrong end of the stick, and he didn't have the energy to explain the complexity of their relationship. It seemed to satisfy her, and after airing many maternal worries and orders she allowed him to Disapparate to the house of Ria's friend, Jack.
"Charlie!" Jack greeted him. "Ri won't be a minute. She's beautifying herself. Power-dressing, you know." Charlie smiled. Jack and his partner Tom were two of the nicest people he had ever met. He didn't know either of them particularly well - only through Ria - but the two of them tended to treat everyone as a part of their family.
"There's nothing wrong with power dressing," Tom called from the kitchen. A smell of bacon and eggs was drifting through the house. "Oh, and Charlie - Jack lied. She'll be more than a minute, because she's not leaving this house until she's had something to eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know, and the little madam is bound to skip it if we don't insist."
"I heard that," Ria's voice floated down the staircase.
"You were supposed to," Jack yelled.
"I know," Ria shouted back. There was the sound of feet on the stairs, and then she materialised. "What was that about breakfast? Smells good, Tom."
"Naturally," Tom smiled at her. "Sit down and eat, my dear."
"Yes, Mum," Ria smiled back.
"Do you want some, Charlie?" Jack asked, and although Charlie knew he was being polite, there was a genuine invitation in his tone.
"I'm okay, thanks. My mother is a great believer in big breakfasts."
"A woman after my own heart," Tom told him.
* * * *
"…And you take care of her," Jack told Charlie, firmly. Charlie fought to keep a grin off of his face, because really, Jack and Tom were acting more like Ria's parents than her friends. He smiled and nodded to humour them, however. It had dawned on him that he would be meeting Alex and Rosamunde Rutherford today, and he wasn't entirely sure just how Ria was going to explain him away. He was beginning to wonder if his presence would be more of a hindrance than a help, in fact. But he had offered moral support, and he was going to give it. He felt Ria slip her hand into his as they walked away from the house, and was surprised at the feeling of warmth her touch generated. Maybe the unspoken pressure he was under was getting to him. After Ria's initial reaction to the whole 'I think I've found your mother' situation, Charlie was beginning to question the logic of taking her to meet Helena after all. Why did he always get cold feet after convincing everyone that his idea was a good one?
"Are you ready for this?" he asked Ria.
"As I'll ever be," she replied and he gently squeezed her hand, before the two of them Disapparated in tandem.
In a blur, they found themselves at the end of a long and muddy lane, bordered by a dark wooden fence covered in greenery. In summer, Charlie guessed that that lane would be one of the most tranquil places on earth, surrounded by scents and colours to stimulate the imagination. There were no blooms at the beginning of November, however, and so Charlie and Ria squelched along the pathway companionably.
"Where exactly are we?" Charlie asked, curiously.
"Buttercup Lane," Ria told him. "Penarddun Place is on an offshoot about one hundred yards from where we are now. You can't Apparate there, though - that's one of the few wards that Dad still maintains. I can remember a time when Penarddun was almost as safe as Hogwarts - back when You-Know-Who was around. Those wards had been up for centuries what with all the wars that have raged at various times, Grandpa saw fit to keep them all in good use. When Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who, Dad decided that we didn't need most of the wards and it was stupid to treat Penarddun like a medieval fortress, but he kept the Anti-Apparition wards. Apparently people appreciate the grounds more if they walk through them." As they turned up the offshoot that Ria had referred to, Charlie was amazed at the difference in landscape. The path was now gravelled, surrounded by neatly kept lawns with floral borders that were bright with colour even now. In the distance he could see a majestic house with the Rutherford family crest flying from one of its turrets. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Ria's wistful smile.
"Wow." It was all he could think of saying. Whatever he had expected, it certainly wasn't this.
"Welcome to Penarddun," Ria said. "We just have to follow the pretty gravel path now, until we reach the house." They crunched up the path, neither of them talking. Ria, it seemed, was lost in thought, and Charlie was far too busy taking in the surrounding land to indulge in small talk. At last they came to a huge oak door with a large brass knocker. Charlie stood aside, allowing Ria to do the honours. Three sharp raps rang in the still air.
Just as Charlie was beginning to wonder whether anyone would ever let them in, the door opened slowly to reveal a grey haired woman with a pointy nose and square glasses, someone who reminded him of Professor McGonagall. When she spoke, her Scottish tones only heightened the comparison.
"Miss Ria! We weren't expecting to see you here!"
"I wasn't expecting to be here, Jemima," Ria said, smiling cordially and she entered the warmth of the house. Charlie followed her and allowed 'Jemima' to slam the door behind him.
"Jemima Langley, this is Charlie Weasley, one of my colleagues. Charlie, this is Jemima, our housekeeper."
"Pleased to meet you," Charlie said, nodding. Jemima returned his nod, but it was clear she was more interested in Ria than in him.
"You should have owled, Miss Ria," she chastised as though Ria were still a small girl and not a fully-grown woman. "The master and the mistress are visiting Miss Lucy and we're not expecting them back until dinner time."
"I can wait," Ria replied. "And we don't want to put you out - we can always go out for lunch if it will be a problem."
"Nonsense," Jemima said, firmly. "You'll eat here. Heaven forbid that Jemima Langley turn you out of your own home when there's soup brewing in the kitchen with plenty spare, and a good country loaf too, I'll warrant. I'll make arrangements."
"Oh, no, Jimsie," Ria said, hastily. "We'll be perfectly at home in the kitchen - I'd hate to put you out!"
"Now, Miss Ria, if it were just you then you know I'd not think twice about having you in my kitchen. But you have a guest, and I'll warrant that Mr Weasley doesn't want to eat in the Servant's Hall. No, Miss Ria, I'll have young Brown lay the table in the Breakfast Room for you - there's a nice fire going in there." Jemima turned on her heel and marched off, even as Ria began to complain.
"Jimsie was Mums' governess before Mums went to Hogwarts," Ria explained. "When Mums married Daddy she moved here with her, and she's been housekeeper ever since. She still calls Lucy and Becca and Gemma Miss, even though they're all married. Bless her, she thinks we're all still little children. She's very set in her ways, is Jemima. Heaven forbid that my guest should eat in the kitchen, and never mind that I used to spend more time with her than in the Nursery. Come on, and I'll show you your room - Jemima will have ordered for the Blue Room to be prepared, I'll bet." Charlie wasn't used to this upper class society, where people had servants and guest bedrooms and huge houses, and where there were politics that even Ria couldn't change.
"Why don't you have house-elves?" he asked, following Ria obediently.
"Because they won't accept pay," Ria told him, matter-of-factly. "The people that work here are people that need work. People who would be living on the street. That's where half of our staff was found, you know. On the streets. They like working here - it's not as Victorian as it might seem to you. Jimsie might insist on calling me Miss Ria, but most of the others don't. We're one big family, really."
"I still don't understand," Charlie admitted.
"Don't be offended, Charlie, but I didn't expect you to. You've been normal all your life. You think that I have everything going for me, with wealth and a loving family and a big house. But with money and authority comes duty, or so Daddy's always told us."
"And you choose to slum it in Romania," Charlie wondered. "You could have spent your whole life in luxury here!"
"No," Ria said, softly, before murmuring something so quietly that Charlie looked at her questioningly. But she shook her head and showed him into the guest room.
* * * *
"What I don't understand is why you're set on doing this," Alexander Rutherford told Ria quietly, after she had explained that she wished to go to Birmingham lest her birth mother was there. Charlie had sat offering silent support as Ria had stumbled over the words that she knew would hurt her parents.
"Alex," Rosamunde spoke to her husband gently, "we always knew this day might come, and we always said we'd support Ria if this was what she wanted to do."
"I know," Alex said, heavily. "But you're still my little girl, Ria. I want you to know that. Whatever the circumstances of your birth, from the day that Jemima laid you in my arms after she found you on the doorstep, you became mine. You were such a precious little scrap, and I would have sworn that you were smiling at me. You've always been part of the family, Ri, and we don't want to lost you."
"You won't lose me!" Ria hastened to reassure him. "You are my family. You always will be. You'll always be my Mums and Daddy. That will never ever change, no matter how many other mothers and fathers I come across. You took me in when other people would have thrown me out, and you raised me as your own. You've been better to me than many 'real' parents are to their children. I promise you that I will always be a Rutherford." At this, Rosamunde and Alex smiled at their youngest daughter.
"Then do what you have to do," Rosamunde bade Ria. "Go in the knowledge that you have our blessing and our love."
* * * *
"You see this one?" Alex Rutherford was showing Charlie some of the family photo albums. "That's Ria when she was seven." Charlie smirked as a miniature Ria waved at him, a moment stopped in time, her two front teeth missing, black hair messily tied back in pigtails, half immersed in the large lake that Ria had promised to show him before they left Penarddun.
"She looks just like Livvy," he said, in a moment of unguarded reflection.
"We've always thought that peculiar," Alex agreed. "You're right, of course. Young Livvy is the spitting image of Ria. They're similar in character too - little rebels, the both of them. Olivia nearly gave the whole family heart failure when she and Claire took it upon themselves to visit Ria in Romania."
"It's the type of thing that most children only dream of doing," Charlie agreed.
"Yes, Lucy and Becca keep the Floo Powder under lock and key now. Those granddaughters of mine - never a dull moment when those two are around!" Charlie grinned. He knew someone else like that. Suddenly someone covered his eyes with their hands.
"Guess who?" she demanded.
"Kate," Charlie responded, mischievously.
"I thought you'd got over her," Ria responded, moving her hands away and squeezing herself between her friend and father on the large settee. Before Charlie could reply, she realised what they were looking at. "Daddy!" she squealed. "How could you?"
"Now, now, your holiness," Charlie began, sternly. "You were a very cute child. Don't deny me the pleasure of laughing at you in your youth."
"No fair!" Ria complained. "I haven't seen any pictures of baby Charlie!"
"Nor will you ever, if I have a say in it," Charlie replied.
* * * *
All good things have to come to an end, or so they said, and it was with great reluctance that Charlie and Ria left Penarddun Place late that evening, destined for Birmingham. In the short time that he had been there, Charlie had learnt just why it was that Ria spoke so fondly of her family home. There was a peacefulness surrounding the old house, and a sense of shelter. Ria, of course, had ghosts in her past that may well have marred the perfection of her surroundings, but even so, it was evident that she loved Penarddun. The Rutherfords were synonymous with the beautiful house, and now that Charlie had met them, it weighed heavily on his conscience that they didn't realise he lived with their daughter. After the initial shock of it he was sure that they would understand the lack of romance between the two of them. Ria was insistent that they should not know, however, and it was Ria's call. Besides, Charlie didn't really have the right to rock her boat any more - he had disturbed her comfortable momentum enough when he revealed his suspicions about her parentage. The Rutherfords waved until Charlie and Ria were out of sight and once the two of them reached Buttercup Lane they Disapparated to Birmingham.
* * * *
Looking around him, Charlie reflected that a quiet life in Cornwall, a sheltered life at Hogwarts and an isolated life in Romania could never compare to life in the city. The hustle and bustle of the people in Birmingham was normal enough, but the sheer volume of them was enough to make him stand stock-still and stare. Ria was taking in her surroundings in an equally wide-eyed fashion.
"Should there be this many people around at this time of night?" she demanded.
"How would I know?" Charlie countered. "I've never been here before in my life!"
"Funny, that, because neither have I," Ria returned, in a cutting fashion. "Do you even know where we're going, Charles?"
"Yes!" Charlie replied, defensively. "Well…I have a vague idea. I'm sure we can ask for directions." Ria shot him an incredulous look before replying.
"I'm sure we can. But right now, all I want to do is sleep, if that's all right with you. No offence, but it's been a long day."
"Sleep is good," Charlie agreed. "It would involve finding a hotel, though."
"Why bother?" Ria asked, slowly. "There are plenty of inns around here." They were in Birmingham's equivalent of Diagon Alley.
"You must be joking!" Charlie laughed. "They'll all have been booked up by businessmen. There's no way we'll find anywhere with two rooms going spare. We'd be lucky to even get one!"
"Do we really need two rooms?" Ria asked him, quietly. "One would be enough. I don't mind sharing if you don't."
"Are you sure?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow at her. That was not an Ariadne Rutherford type thing to say.
"Positive," she replied firmly. "I don't particularly want to be on my own, anyway. Besides, you're hardly likely to assault me."
Charlie frowned at her, before nodding.
"Okay. You've got yourself a deal. We'd better hope that there's some kind of sofa."
* * * *
Asleep, Ria looked like a vulnerable child. Charlie rolled on his side to examine her more thoroughly. The long black lashes formed curling half moons on her cheeks, stained pink with sleep, and her hand cushioned her face. Suddenly, Charlie was seized with an urge to protect her. Or maybe it was more than that. He shook himself. It was bad enough that he was sharing a bed with his brother's girlfriend. Now was definitely not the time to start wondering about other things. Why was he awake, anyway? He was practically dead on his feet - they must have been to about six inns before finally getting a room. A room with a bed and not much else in it. Not even a sofa. Being a gentleman, he'd offered to sleep on the floor, but Ria wouldn't have it. The bed was huge, she'd said. Plenty of space for both of them. And so, he was lying there, watching his best friend, who also happened to be his brother's girlfriend, sleeping. At midnight. Sometimes he worried about his sanity. Other times, he just accepted that life was a lot more complicated than he liked to admit.