Part XIII
"Charlie?" Charlie looked up. "How would you define a nice girl?" He looked
at her blankly. Ria had clearly lost her mind. Again.
"Eh?"
"A nice girl."
"Sorry - what's this.Girls can be 'nice'?" He grinned at her, and winked.
In response, she rolled her eyes.
"Girls that you fancy, dear," Ria explained. "Men like nice girls."
"Well, Fair Kentish Maidens are, of course, the apple of my eye," Charlie
replied, earning himself a thump on the shoulder. He grinned. "A nice girl?
I mean, what is that? Do they give awards for 'nice' dogs at Crups?"
"One would assume so. Although how anyone can describe a crup as 'nice' is
beyond me. Animal lovers do strange things."
"Intelligent, yes. Beautiful, yes. I can understand these things. But
'nice'?" He gave Ria a puzzled look.
"Girls like devilish men. Men are attracted to nice girls. It's the way
things are."
"So, nice and devilish are one and the same now, are they?"
"Fool. Girls like devilish men. Men like nice girls."
"Point taken, your holiness," Charlie replied, giving his friend a rakish
grin.
"So, what the hell are they?"
"I suppose," Charlie said, slowly, "that a nice girl is someone you can
have a nice easy conversation with. Narrows it down, doesn't it? Someone
who a) isn't immediately interested in ripping your clothes off, and b)
is.um.nice?"
"Ripping your clothes off? Fat chance," Ria told him, dismissively. "I've
seen your bedroom." Charlie grinned. Nothing like good friends to put your
life into perspective.
"Nice to see that's what you're thinking about, though," he winked. "Nice
girl.well, you're a nice girl. And so is Merri."
"Charlie.?"
"Ria.?"
"Are you trying to say you want to go out with me?" Ria asked, fluttering
her eyelashes comically.
"Would you like me to say that?" Charlie asked, grinning mischievously.
"Hell no," Ria replied, laughing. "The Dark Lord will return before I go
out with you, Weasley."
"Lucky for you that I like devilish girls, then, eh?" Charlie winked.
"Devilish? Hah, most of the girls you date don't have the brains to be
devilish. Vacant more like." Ria was scathing about his choice in women.
"Do you like nice men? And I take that as a compliment."
"More fool you. Do I like nice men? Well, generally young ladies like the
rogues of society. Their unpredictability is incredibly appealing, don't
you know?"
"So you don't go for nice men?"
"I used to prefer men who were devils," Ria told him.
"Used to?"
"Well, Charlie dear, much as I love you, you really don't fall into the
living life dangerously category."
"But you just said you didn't want to date me, which, incidentally, suits
me just fine. What changed your mind?"
Ria turned away from him, so that all he could see was the back of her
head, with it's messy ponytail of hair. He thought he heard her whisper
something.
"What was that?"
"It doesn't matter." She smiled at him and left the room. But it did
matter. It mattered to Charlie. Because at some point in her past, someone
had destroyed her faith in love and ruined men for her forever. He looked
hopelessly at her retreating back, something stirring inside him. A desire
to make everything better. And, knowing she couldn't hear him, he sighed.
"I'm so sorry, Ri."
* * * *
Charlie wondered just what he had done to deserve this. He was the epitome
of kindness and goodness - he'd even forsaken all potential suitors in
favour of taking her to the dance, and this was how she repaid him. Ariadne
Rutherford, he decided, was one enigma that would take a lot of cracking.
"Ri," he began, "why exactly have you moved all of the furniture out of the
dining room?"
"Because," Ria replied, smiling, "I am going to give you dancing lessons."
Charlie looked at the door, contemplating a quick getaway. Dancing? What
did she think he was?
"Dancing lessons?" He looked at her blankly. Maybe if he feigned ignorance
then she'd relent.
"Yes," she said firmly. "I seem to recall, not so very long ago, when you
were contemplating asking Katie - or Kate or whatever her name was - to be
your beloved, you mentioned to me that you couldn't dance. Well, dear, now
is the time to learn."
"But I don't want to!" Charlie protested. Ria rolled her eyes.
"Come on, Charlie, you know you've always wanted to Tango with a rose
between your teeth. I've heard that most girls find it very attractive to
be wooed by a romantic."
"Most girls including or excluding you?"
"Excluding, so there's no need to be shy. And you insisted that I had to go
to this Ball, so I'm insisting that you have to learn. Or else I'm not
going."
Charlie blinked. Ria wasn't normally this defiant. At least, he didn't
think that she was.
"Fine," he said, resigned to the inevitable. "I hope you know that by the
time this session is over you won't have any feet left."
"Never mind," Ria said, briskly. "I know some very good restorative charms.
Now, let's start with a waltz - they're the simplest. Just count 1-2-3 and
you'll be fine.I'm assuming you can count to three?" She grinned.
"Bloody cheek!" Charlie responded. "It's my feet that worry me, not my
mathematical skills."
"Don't be so defeatist," Ria told him, grabbing his right hand, and placing
it at her waist. The wool of her jumper was surprisingly warm and soft.
"That hand stays there," she told him, "and no mention of fat, please, or I
may have to shoot you." She picked up his other hand, and adopted a pose he
recognised from pictures of his mother's schooldays. "Pretty simple pose,
really," she mused.
"What about your other hand?" Charlie asked. Ria looked at him quizzically.
"Shouldn't it go somewhere?"
"No," Ria said, smiling. "I'll use it to hold my dress when I'm actually
wearing one."
"And there was me, thinking you were going to go in your nightie." He felt
ridiculous, standing there, doing nothing.
"And you'd like that, wouldn't you!" Ria exclaimed, grinning. She held her
wand in her free hand, and pointed it towards the contraption she used to
play her Muggle music. A reasonably slow tune with a definite rhythm began
to blast through the room.
"Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty," Ria told him, as though that meant
anything. He blinked. "You are so uncultured, Charlie Weasley, I sometimes
despair of you," Ria teased. "Anyway, the key to waltzing.well, first thing
you should know is that waltz comes from the German wältzen which means to
revolve. So guess what's involved in waltzing?"
"Revolving?"
"Right. So, we move in a kind of circle. Here." She disentangled herself
from his embrace. "It's like this." She held an imaginary partner in her
arms and began to whirl around the room. Charlie felt quite giddy watching.
"You understand?" She asked. He shook his head. "You will. Okay, so for the
purpose of this exercise, we'll get rid of the music for a bit. Just think
'step, side, close' and you'll be fine. And remember, you work opposite to
me. You lead. Okay?"
"Okay," Charlie said, doubtfully, and dutifully returned to the position
she had placed him in earlier. The music began again, and tentatively the
two of them began to waltz. After several false starts, he began to
understand the rhythm involved, and muttering 'step-side-close' quietly,
eyes glued to his feet, he began to feel vaguely confident in what he was
doing.
"Look at me," Ria told him. "You're doing really well, but if you spend all
of your time looking at your feet you look like you don't know what you're
doing."
"I don't know what I'm doing," Charlie protested, nevertheless raising his
eyes to meet hers.
"Well, you're doing a good job of faking, then," Ria retorted, maintaining
eye contact and suddenly breaking to twirl. Which was all well and good,
but it completely threw Charlie.
Half an hour later, he was almost confident with waltzing. Almost. But Ria
deemed him good enough to move on to something else. Namely the tango. A
dance that Charlie soon discovered involved an inordinate amount of
preposterous posturing.
"I feel ridiculous," he told his partner as he lowered her so that she was
practically on the floor, causing her to giggle. Which caused him to let go
of her. Which caused Ria to bang her head on the floor with a bang.
"Ouch," she said, rubbing her head. "That wasn't called for. You could have
just said that you didn't like the dance."
"Sorry!" Charlie exclaimed, helping her up off of the floor. "That was not
supposed to happen! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Ria assured him. "It'll take more than a bump to take me out.
And now you have to master that dance, if only to make my pain worthwhile."
Charlie grimaced. That did not sound hopeful - they might well still be
practising at this time next week if she wanted him to master those sorts
of complexities. She grinned, noticing his discomfiture. "I'm only joking,
Charlie. Even to master the waltz is very good. Traditionally Balls open
and close with a waltz, so you'll be okay there. And anyway, I think
there'll be a fair number of Reels. I'm assuming you can dance a reel?"
"I'm from Cornwall," Charlie told her, confidently. "My tango may not be
perfect, but I'm confident that my jigging is much more in keeping with
your impeccable standards."
* * * *
Charlie was not used to what he termed 'fancy functions'. As a child the
only type of dance he had ever experienced was a good Cornish Barn Dance,
and something told him that the 'flatter for favours' style of dancing was
very different from the light-hearted reels and jigs that were danced on
such occasions. Even the Barn Dances had been few and far between once the
Dark Lord began to assume real power. When it was barely safe to remain in
your house, you did not go out looking for trouble, or so Molly Weasley had
always told him. Not that he'd really understood - it wasn't until people
he knew started dying that he appreciated the full impact of the Reign of
Terror. Ellie had been the first to die, but she was not the only one. As
if losing her hadn't had impact enough. Gradually Charlie became used to
hearing of friends and acquaintances who had been affected by the war. He
never accepted the news of their loss though. He never saw their bodies,
and until he did a small part of him would always cling to the possibility
that it may all have been a horrible dream. Even twelve years on, he still
hoped that one day Ellie would walk through the door, as if nothing had
happened. But now was not the time to be morose. He was, after all, about
to attend a very prestigious social event, the like of which had rarely
been seen in this remote part of Romania.
Charlie surveyed his dress robes with unconcealed satisfaction. They
consisted of a pair of pale grey trousers and matching silk waistcoat,
white linen shirt and black silk bow tie, with an over-robe very similar to
a Muggle morning coat, coming down to the knee, and buckling with silver
fastenings. Very suave, and a far cry from the knitted jumpers and too-
short shorts of his youth. Placing a white silk handkerchief into the
breast pocket of his robe, he smiled at his reflection, and left his room,
calling to the girls as he went.
"Merri, you need to get a shift on! Jon will want to arrive early! And Ri,
just because I said we didn't have to be there for dead on eight, that
doesn't mean you should take your time, dear." He went to wait in the
living room, where he sat and perused the pages of 'Perfect Potions', which
Ria had purchased whilst on one of her I-must-learn-more-about-magic kicks.
Merri was the first to appear, looking shy in robes of palest jade, which were very fitted and extremely flattering to Merri's petite form. Charlie was amazed at the difference that nice clothes and a decent hairstyle could make in someone. Merri, although not as plain as she made out, was hardly the most startling of beauties, and yet now she looked positively regal. "You look lovely," Charlie told her, approvingly. "Thank you," Merri replied, shyly. "Ri said she wouldn't be long, and not to pester her or she'll deliberately delay you by two hours. And there's Jon, so I'd better go." Charlie blinked at this easy dismissal, and watched, stunned, as his friend walked out of the door, head held high. When Ria eventually emerged, he was on page two hundred and thirty four, and beginning to get more than a little impatient with pesticide potions. "Charlie?" He looked up, and blinked. For once his tomboyish friend looked very much the aristocratic daughter. If Merri looked regal then Ria was stunning. In a break with convention she had gone for a Muggle dress, with a full length black skirt and boned white bodice. Over this she wore more traditional robes. The material had been woven in such a way that depending on how the light caught the robes they were either a deep crimson or a rich burgundy. These robes, clearly, had not been picked up off of a market stall. "Looking good, Miss Ria," he said, half-admiringly, half jokingly. "Mind telling me why you're not posing on the front cover of 'Witch Weekly' instead of tending to possibly the most sadistic creatures that walk the earth?" he demanded, teasingly. "Charlie, darling, I know Merri and Jon are a handful, but there's no need to be rude!" Ria grinned. "I could ask you the same question." She winked, and Charlie did a double take.was she wearing make-up? This was going to be good. "Witch Weekly has never really appealed to me, for some reason," he told her, in mock honesty. "I'm sure you'd appeal to some of its readers," Ria replied, mischievously.
"As my mother is an avid fan of said magazine, I shall completely disregard that comment and ignore you for the rest of the evening," Charlie told her, snootily, noting the laughter in her eyes with well-hidden amusement. "It's unlike you to take a stand over your femininity," Ria responded, laughing. "Anyway, they can do wonders with make-up nowadays." Charlie gaped at her, open mouthed. The little horror. She'd pay for that comment. "Besides, the public love you!" "I don't care what the public wants," Charlie told her, "as long as it isn't me." "I don't know," Ria mused, slowly. "I think those dragon hide boots of yours are most fetching." "You can do a lot of things with dragon hide, you know," Charlie told her, seriously. "I read the textbook," Ria responded. "Why, Ria, and I thought you were a nice girl!" Charlie teased. "What?! CHARLIE! If this damned corset wasn't so darn tight you'd pay for that comment!" "Just as well for me that you're all trussed up, then," Charlie told her. "But before we leave, may I ask you a question?" "Shoot." "Do you have legs?" Charlie smirked as Ria glanced down at her voluptuous skirt before hitting him. Hard. Laughing, he grabbed her hand and frogmarched her out of the house. * * * * The large venue of the Ball was looking particularly vibrant that night. Charlie could hear faint strains of Chamber music as he and Ria entered via the grand hallway and were shown to their seats. No one could say that the Reserve did not do things properly. Charlie smiled his thanks to the waiter as he sat down at the table currently occupied by Merri and Jon. "Are these things always so posh?" he demanded of his boss. Jon laughed. "Not always," he replied. "But you've been to one before, so you should know that. However, this year the powers that be decided that formal was the way to go. Don't ask me why - everyone is usually perfectly happy with a disco, besides which, this must have cost a fortune. But each to their own." "Well," Ria grinned, "I'm not going to complain. This takes me back - do you remember, Jon?" "How could I possibly forget?" Jon asked, returning her smile. "A prettier five year old is hard to imagine. Not that I really appreciated your feminine charms at the time." Charlie and Merri exchanged a confused look. Noticing this, Ria smiled. "My parents knew Jon's well," she explained. "We first met at a Ball when he was eight and I was five. I was.well, I fell in love with him, as little girls are wont to do. And he wouldn't dance with me." "Well, he can rectify that situation tonight," Merri smiled. "Minus the falling in love," Ria agreed. "Charlie still hasn't mastered the tango. We'll have to show him how it's done later, Jon." "Charming!" Charlie exclaimed. "Anyone would think that I'd been dancing for months. We did only start practising three days ago, you know." "Yes," Ria said, laying a placating hand on his shoulder. "And you did very well, dear. But Jon is a pro, and, much as we'd love it to be otherwise, you're not." Before Charlie had a chance to respond, Merri spoke. "If the two of you would stop arguing for one minute, then we could get on with actually dancing!" she exclaimed. "Look, the band is getting ready. And it will be a waltz. It always is." "Argue?" Ria looked innocent. "Us? Charlie and I never argue, do we?" "Not at all," Charlie agreed, attempting to contort his face into a butter- wouldn't-melt expression and failing miserably. "We love each other, don't we Ri!" "Oh, absolutely," Ria replied, straight faced. "Could have fooled me," Merri grinned, taking the arm that Jon offered her and whirling on to the dance floor. Charlie and Ria smirked at her retreating back. "Score one to us," Charlie said. Then, feeling particularly chivalrous, he bowed to his partner. "Would you do me the honour, Mistress Rutherford?" "It would be my pleasure, kind sir," Ria replied, smiling a smile that lit up her whole face and taking the proffered hand. "Just remember," she whispered as they began to dance. "One-two-three, one-two-three, and you'll be fine." Charlie grinned. This was going to be interesting. * * * * After three dances, Charlie had to plead fatigue and sit down. Ria, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on the exercise. Charlie decided that she was crazy. Merri, he decided, probably thought the same thing about Jon. At any rate, when her other half had left her sitting with Charlie, he had asked Ria to dance. The two of them, Charlie thought, reluctantly, danced well together. Very well together. Jon's dancing put his own to shame, and as for Ria, well, had she been anyone other than herself, she could have danced for England. "They dance well, don't they?" Merri said, breaking into his thoughts. "Too well," Charlie grumbled. "I look silly compared to Jon." "Don't be ridiculous, Charlie," Merri told him, briskly. "I'm hardly likely to rival Ria in dancing skill, but Jon still loves me. Ria isn't interested in how well you dance. She loves you for what you are. And don't doubt that she loves you. Because she does. It's crystal clear. I don't know what it is about you but every time you walk into a room her face lights up." "Tshhh." Charlie made a disparaging noise. "You're imagining things. People who are attached do that. They become matchmakers. It's a most unbecoming profession, Merri." Merri didn't reply. She was too busy watching Jon and Ria as they ruled the dance floor. Loath though he was to admit it, Charlie was very impressed, and not just by Ria's dancing. In spite of his jesting earlier, he had truly meant that she looked stunning, and never more so than whirling around the dance floor, the full black skirt of her dress swishing as she span delightedly. This was a side of Ria that Charlie was not accustomed to. This wasn't Ria, his best friend, someone who he could say whatever he liked to, even be vulgar if he wanted to. No. This was Miss Ariadne Rutherford, society girl. It made things awkward for him, somehow. He'd been brought up to respect girls, and watch his language around them. And when Ria was all doled up and looking a million Galleons, Charlie had to reconsider his relationship with her. Which, when he thought about it, was stupid. Because she was still the same Ria. But. He didn't know. She looked amazing, and he was glad that she was enjoying herself. Finally he put his finger on it. This Ria was false. She oozed confidence, and it was confidence that Charlie knew Ria didn't have. Even the way she walked was different. The reason she seemed odd was because she wasn't Ria, his best friend. She was trying to be something that she wasn't, albeit subconsciously. And it bothered Charlie that she thought she had to. At the same time, he admitted that there was something oddly attractive about this new Ria. Her confidence, had it been real, would have been refreshing, and entirely justified. Unlike the coarse clothing that was most appropriate for every day wear at the reserve, Ria's dress robes made her slender and well proportioned figure obvious. The bodice was fitted and so low cut that Charlie was hard pushed not to stare at Ria's cleavage, startled by its very existence. The vibrant colouring of her robes suited her, and the wide cups of the sleeves made her look like something out of one of the ancient Hogwarts portraits. But the feature that fascinated Charlie the most, more, even, than her cleavage, was Ria's hair. Somehow he'd never realised how long it was. It fell, a long black ribbon, down to her waist. It was not exactly straight, but neither was it curly. It was thick and lustrous, and surprisingly soft to touch. The living mass of blackness was a far cry from the snaking braid that Ria usually kept her hair in check with. Charlie found himself wanting to feel it again, to make sure it was real. To him, it represented Ria's spirit, so often tied up, and yet so amazing when she allowed it to be free. How ironic, then, that the one time her hair was free, Ria was not. * * * * "You know, some of those women out there are screaming 'kiss me'," Ria commented, as she and Charlie sat watching other couples dancing. Charlie looked at her in amusement. "Are you sure that's all they're screaming?" he asked, mischievously. Ria glared at him. "You just had to lower the tone, didn't you?" she said, but he could see the muted amusement in her eyes. "That is my nature, yes," he agreed, easily. "Obviously, you're not one of those women," he added, grinning. "Charlie, the day I scream kiss me is the day that Cornelius Fudge dyes his hair blue and does the Can-Can in fishnet tights," Ria said, bluntly. "Very likely, then," Charlie said, wryly, shaking his head. "You're too uptight, you know," he told her. "You're scared of men." She opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke again before she could. "No, listen. You admitted yourself that the only reason you formed any kind of relationship with Bill was because it meant you didn't really have to commit yourself. And you don't want to go out with anyone because you think that they'll hurt you. And maybe you're right - maybe they will. But that's not the point. Ri, you need to live a little." "Thank you for that psychoanalysis of my life," Ria replied. "Maybe I am uptight. But you don't know everything, Charlie Weasley, much as you wish that you did. And until you do, you are in no position to tell me what and what not I need to do." She got up and swept off. Charlie looked at her retreating back. "So tell me," he said, softly. But of course, she didn't hear. Sighing, Charlie got up and went off to find her. Sometimes she was hard work. Eventually he came across her at the drinks table, gulping down a glass of champagne alarmingly fast. "Ri!" he called, but she only raised her head higher and knocked back yet more Dutch Courage. He was making his way towards her, just about to corner her, when a rather dapper looking gentleman spoke to her. "Would you care to dance?" Charlie grimaced in irritation as Ria smiled and nodded, the alcohol obviously having its intended effect. Well, he thought, you did tell her she needed to be more outgoing. Not that knowing this was much comfort. Charlie knew the gentleman in question. Jacques Smith was of dual nationality - he had a French mother and an English father - and worked for the French department on the Reserve. He was handsome, charming, and every girl's dream man. He also only had one thing in mind when he made his move on a woman. Charlie didn't particularly want to watch as the enigmatic Frenchman seduced his best friend. Knowing Ria, however, he doubted that he'd have any opportunity to interfere. Still, he could try to save her from herself. Spying Merri and Jon, he cut in. "May I have the pleasure?" he asked Merri, his gaze going from her to Ria and her partner, who were now dancing far too closely in his opinion. Merri followed his gaze, and noticing just who was dancing with Ria, assented. The two of them whisked into a foxtrot, with Charlie moving surreptitiously towards Ria and Jacques. "May we cut in?" Merri demanded, as the two couples converged, and before either Ria or Jacques could protest Charlie and Merri had broken them up. "What was that for?" Ria demanded, looking put out. "That," Charlie replied, "was us saving you from a fate worse than death. You must know about Jacques reputation!" "So what?" Ria demanded, sullenly, reminding Charlie of a very annoying teenager. "So, do you really want to be giving birth to his child in nine months? Because if you do, then carry on the way you are, and I can guarantee that you'll be residing in some maternity unit." "Don't be so ridiculous," Ria brushed off his concerns. "I'm a big girl now, Charlie, and in spite of what you think, you are not my keeper. So mind your own business." Deftly she steered them back towards Jacques and smirking, regained her original partner. Charlie and Merri looked at each other dejectedly. "Typical Ria," Merri said, dryly. "She's going to get herself into trouble," Charlie said, watching her worriedly. "I only hope she knows what she's doing." So much for saving Ria from herself. * * * * Charlie had lost Ria completely, in spite of attempting to keep her and Jacques within his line of sight. One minute they were there, the next they were not. Consequently, he was prowling the grounds, hoping to find the two of them. At least Ria was having fun. Well, at least Ria thought she was having fun. Thinking and doing were not always one and the same. And, no matter what Ria said to the contrary, Charlie did feel responsible for her. It was as natural as breathing for him to worry about her. She was, after all, practically family. And Weasleys were notorious for their family protective gene. Hence Charlie's stalking of the borders. Stalking, he decided later, was not the most desirable of occupations. You ended up cold and frustrated, and you rarely got what you wanted from your efforts. This was certainly the case for his current mission. Eventually he did spy Ria and Jacques. And promptly wished that he hadn't. Because Jacques was all over her like a rash, and Ria seemed to think that eating him would be a wise move. Charlie resisted the urge to let out a growl of frustration. This was emphatically not the ending he had wanted for the evening. Of all the men in the world, she just had to choose the wrong one. What made him more angry than anything was that it was his fault. He had told her to live. He had got her so angry that she had thrown caution to the winds. And he was the reason that she was now doing things he didn't even want to think about with a man well-known for his devilish ways. And she'd said she didn't like devilish men. Dejected, he made his way back to their home, hoping that she would make it back some time before tomorrow morning.
Author's Note: Much as I adore Charlie, Ria et al, I cannot take credit for them entirely. There's a network of people behind Spiritus aduro who care about my characters just as much as I do, sometimes I worry that they care more. A good proportion of this chapter should be credited to my editor-cum-beta reader Andy. Much of Charlie's more inspired dialogue is taken straight from Andy's mouth. Literally. You'd be surprised at some of the conversations we have had over the course of the story. I also owe great thanks to Louise, who backs me up when I'm doubtful, and supports me when I don't agree with Andy. I also have to thank Arabella, for being such a ROXy beta reader. Without these people, there would be no Spiritus aduro. I also want to thank you, the readers. Without your support, Spiritus aduro may have ended up on the rocks. I don't write for reviews - that's not the way to go about this business, but your comments mean a lot to me. If you take the time to review then you are truly stars. Thank you all so much for reading Hallie
Merri was the first to appear, looking shy in robes of palest jade, which were very fitted and extremely flattering to Merri's petite form. Charlie was amazed at the difference that nice clothes and a decent hairstyle could make in someone. Merri, although not as plain as she made out, was hardly the most startling of beauties, and yet now she looked positively regal. "You look lovely," Charlie told her, approvingly. "Thank you," Merri replied, shyly. "Ri said she wouldn't be long, and not to pester her or she'll deliberately delay you by two hours. And there's Jon, so I'd better go." Charlie blinked at this easy dismissal, and watched, stunned, as his friend walked out of the door, head held high. When Ria eventually emerged, he was on page two hundred and thirty four, and beginning to get more than a little impatient with pesticide potions. "Charlie?" He looked up, and blinked. For once his tomboyish friend looked very much the aristocratic daughter. If Merri looked regal then Ria was stunning. In a break with convention she had gone for a Muggle dress, with a full length black skirt and boned white bodice. Over this she wore more traditional robes. The material had been woven in such a way that depending on how the light caught the robes they were either a deep crimson or a rich burgundy. These robes, clearly, had not been picked up off of a market stall. "Looking good, Miss Ria," he said, half-admiringly, half jokingly. "Mind telling me why you're not posing on the front cover of 'Witch Weekly' instead of tending to possibly the most sadistic creatures that walk the earth?" he demanded, teasingly. "Charlie, darling, I know Merri and Jon are a handful, but there's no need to be rude!" Ria grinned. "I could ask you the same question." She winked, and Charlie did a double take.was she wearing make-up? This was going to be good. "Witch Weekly has never really appealed to me, for some reason," he told her, in mock honesty. "I'm sure you'd appeal to some of its readers," Ria replied, mischievously.
"As my mother is an avid fan of said magazine, I shall completely disregard that comment and ignore you for the rest of the evening," Charlie told her, snootily, noting the laughter in her eyes with well-hidden amusement. "It's unlike you to take a stand over your femininity," Ria responded, laughing. "Anyway, they can do wonders with make-up nowadays." Charlie gaped at her, open mouthed. The little horror. She'd pay for that comment. "Besides, the public love you!" "I don't care what the public wants," Charlie told her, "as long as it isn't me." "I don't know," Ria mused, slowly. "I think those dragon hide boots of yours are most fetching." "You can do a lot of things with dragon hide, you know," Charlie told her, seriously. "I read the textbook," Ria responded. "Why, Ria, and I thought you were a nice girl!" Charlie teased. "What?! CHARLIE! If this damned corset wasn't so darn tight you'd pay for that comment!" "Just as well for me that you're all trussed up, then," Charlie told her. "But before we leave, may I ask you a question?" "Shoot." "Do you have legs?" Charlie smirked as Ria glanced down at her voluptuous skirt before hitting him. Hard. Laughing, he grabbed her hand and frogmarched her out of the house. * * * * The large venue of the Ball was looking particularly vibrant that night. Charlie could hear faint strains of Chamber music as he and Ria entered via the grand hallway and were shown to their seats. No one could say that the Reserve did not do things properly. Charlie smiled his thanks to the waiter as he sat down at the table currently occupied by Merri and Jon. "Are these things always so posh?" he demanded of his boss. Jon laughed. "Not always," he replied. "But you've been to one before, so you should know that. However, this year the powers that be decided that formal was the way to go. Don't ask me why - everyone is usually perfectly happy with a disco, besides which, this must have cost a fortune. But each to their own." "Well," Ria grinned, "I'm not going to complain. This takes me back - do you remember, Jon?" "How could I possibly forget?" Jon asked, returning her smile. "A prettier five year old is hard to imagine. Not that I really appreciated your feminine charms at the time." Charlie and Merri exchanged a confused look. Noticing this, Ria smiled. "My parents knew Jon's well," she explained. "We first met at a Ball when he was eight and I was five. I was.well, I fell in love with him, as little girls are wont to do. And he wouldn't dance with me." "Well, he can rectify that situation tonight," Merri smiled. "Minus the falling in love," Ria agreed. "Charlie still hasn't mastered the tango. We'll have to show him how it's done later, Jon." "Charming!" Charlie exclaimed. "Anyone would think that I'd been dancing for months. We did only start practising three days ago, you know." "Yes," Ria said, laying a placating hand on his shoulder. "And you did very well, dear. But Jon is a pro, and, much as we'd love it to be otherwise, you're not." Before Charlie had a chance to respond, Merri spoke. "If the two of you would stop arguing for one minute, then we could get on with actually dancing!" she exclaimed. "Look, the band is getting ready. And it will be a waltz. It always is." "Argue?" Ria looked innocent. "Us? Charlie and I never argue, do we?" "Not at all," Charlie agreed, attempting to contort his face into a butter- wouldn't-melt expression and failing miserably. "We love each other, don't we Ri!" "Oh, absolutely," Ria replied, straight faced. "Could have fooled me," Merri grinned, taking the arm that Jon offered her and whirling on to the dance floor. Charlie and Ria smirked at her retreating back. "Score one to us," Charlie said. Then, feeling particularly chivalrous, he bowed to his partner. "Would you do me the honour, Mistress Rutherford?" "It would be my pleasure, kind sir," Ria replied, smiling a smile that lit up her whole face and taking the proffered hand. "Just remember," she whispered as they began to dance. "One-two-three, one-two-three, and you'll be fine." Charlie grinned. This was going to be interesting. * * * * After three dances, Charlie had to plead fatigue and sit down. Ria, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on the exercise. Charlie decided that she was crazy. Merri, he decided, probably thought the same thing about Jon. At any rate, when her other half had left her sitting with Charlie, he had asked Ria to dance. The two of them, Charlie thought, reluctantly, danced well together. Very well together. Jon's dancing put his own to shame, and as for Ria, well, had she been anyone other than herself, she could have danced for England. "They dance well, don't they?" Merri said, breaking into his thoughts. "Too well," Charlie grumbled. "I look silly compared to Jon." "Don't be ridiculous, Charlie," Merri told him, briskly. "I'm hardly likely to rival Ria in dancing skill, but Jon still loves me. Ria isn't interested in how well you dance. She loves you for what you are. And don't doubt that she loves you. Because she does. It's crystal clear. I don't know what it is about you but every time you walk into a room her face lights up." "Tshhh." Charlie made a disparaging noise. "You're imagining things. People who are attached do that. They become matchmakers. It's a most unbecoming profession, Merri." Merri didn't reply. She was too busy watching Jon and Ria as they ruled the dance floor. Loath though he was to admit it, Charlie was very impressed, and not just by Ria's dancing. In spite of his jesting earlier, he had truly meant that she looked stunning, and never more so than whirling around the dance floor, the full black skirt of her dress swishing as she span delightedly. This was a side of Ria that Charlie was not accustomed to. This wasn't Ria, his best friend, someone who he could say whatever he liked to, even be vulgar if he wanted to. No. This was Miss Ariadne Rutherford, society girl. It made things awkward for him, somehow. He'd been brought up to respect girls, and watch his language around them. And when Ria was all doled up and looking a million Galleons, Charlie had to reconsider his relationship with her. Which, when he thought about it, was stupid. Because she was still the same Ria. But. He didn't know. She looked amazing, and he was glad that she was enjoying herself. Finally he put his finger on it. This Ria was false. She oozed confidence, and it was confidence that Charlie knew Ria didn't have. Even the way she walked was different. The reason she seemed odd was because she wasn't Ria, his best friend. She was trying to be something that she wasn't, albeit subconsciously. And it bothered Charlie that she thought she had to. At the same time, he admitted that there was something oddly attractive about this new Ria. Her confidence, had it been real, would have been refreshing, and entirely justified. Unlike the coarse clothing that was most appropriate for every day wear at the reserve, Ria's dress robes made her slender and well proportioned figure obvious. The bodice was fitted and so low cut that Charlie was hard pushed not to stare at Ria's cleavage, startled by its very existence. The vibrant colouring of her robes suited her, and the wide cups of the sleeves made her look like something out of one of the ancient Hogwarts portraits. But the feature that fascinated Charlie the most, more, even, than her cleavage, was Ria's hair. Somehow he'd never realised how long it was. It fell, a long black ribbon, down to her waist. It was not exactly straight, but neither was it curly. It was thick and lustrous, and surprisingly soft to touch. The living mass of blackness was a far cry from the snaking braid that Ria usually kept her hair in check with. Charlie found himself wanting to feel it again, to make sure it was real. To him, it represented Ria's spirit, so often tied up, and yet so amazing when she allowed it to be free. How ironic, then, that the one time her hair was free, Ria was not. * * * * "You know, some of those women out there are screaming 'kiss me'," Ria commented, as she and Charlie sat watching other couples dancing. Charlie looked at her in amusement. "Are you sure that's all they're screaming?" he asked, mischievously. Ria glared at him. "You just had to lower the tone, didn't you?" she said, but he could see the muted amusement in her eyes. "That is my nature, yes," he agreed, easily. "Obviously, you're not one of those women," he added, grinning. "Charlie, the day I scream kiss me is the day that Cornelius Fudge dyes his hair blue and does the Can-Can in fishnet tights," Ria said, bluntly. "Very likely, then," Charlie said, wryly, shaking his head. "You're too uptight, you know," he told her. "You're scared of men." She opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke again before she could. "No, listen. You admitted yourself that the only reason you formed any kind of relationship with Bill was because it meant you didn't really have to commit yourself. And you don't want to go out with anyone because you think that they'll hurt you. And maybe you're right - maybe they will. But that's not the point. Ri, you need to live a little." "Thank you for that psychoanalysis of my life," Ria replied. "Maybe I am uptight. But you don't know everything, Charlie Weasley, much as you wish that you did. And until you do, you are in no position to tell me what and what not I need to do." She got up and swept off. Charlie looked at her retreating back. "So tell me," he said, softly. But of course, she didn't hear. Sighing, Charlie got up and went off to find her. Sometimes she was hard work. Eventually he came across her at the drinks table, gulping down a glass of champagne alarmingly fast. "Ri!" he called, but she only raised her head higher and knocked back yet more Dutch Courage. He was making his way towards her, just about to corner her, when a rather dapper looking gentleman spoke to her. "Would you care to dance?" Charlie grimaced in irritation as Ria smiled and nodded, the alcohol obviously having its intended effect. Well, he thought, you did tell her she needed to be more outgoing. Not that knowing this was much comfort. Charlie knew the gentleman in question. Jacques Smith was of dual nationality - he had a French mother and an English father - and worked for the French department on the Reserve. He was handsome, charming, and every girl's dream man. He also only had one thing in mind when he made his move on a woman. Charlie didn't particularly want to watch as the enigmatic Frenchman seduced his best friend. Knowing Ria, however, he doubted that he'd have any opportunity to interfere. Still, he could try to save her from herself. Spying Merri and Jon, he cut in. "May I have the pleasure?" he asked Merri, his gaze going from her to Ria and her partner, who were now dancing far too closely in his opinion. Merri followed his gaze, and noticing just who was dancing with Ria, assented. The two of them whisked into a foxtrot, with Charlie moving surreptitiously towards Ria and Jacques. "May we cut in?" Merri demanded, as the two couples converged, and before either Ria or Jacques could protest Charlie and Merri had broken them up. "What was that for?" Ria demanded, looking put out. "That," Charlie replied, "was us saving you from a fate worse than death. You must know about Jacques reputation!" "So what?" Ria demanded, sullenly, reminding Charlie of a very annoying teenager. "So, do you really want to be giving birth to his child in nine months? Because if you do, then carry on the way you are, and I can guarantee that you'll be residing in some maternity unit." "Don't be so ridiculous," Ria brushed off his concerns. "I'm a big girl now, Charlie, and in spite of what you think, you are not my keeper. So mind your own business." Deftly she steered them back towards Jacques and smirking, regained her original partner. Charlie and Merri looked at each other dejectedly. "Typical Ria," Merri said, dryly. "She's going to get herself into trouble," Charlie said, watching her worriedly. "I only hope she knows what she's doing." So much for saving Ria from herself. * * * * Charlie had lost Ria completely, in spite of attempting to keep her and Jacques within his line of sight. One minute they were there, the next they were not. Consequently, he was prowling the grounds, hoping to find the two of them. At least Ria was having fun. Well, at least Ria thought she was having fun. Thinking and doing were not always one and the same. And, no matter what Ria said to the contrary, Charlie did feel responsible for her. It was as natural as breathing for him to worry about her. She was, after all, practically family. And Weasleys were notorious for their family protective gene. Hence Charlie's stalking of the borders. Stalking, he decided later, was not the most desirable of occupations. You ended up cold and frustrated, and you rarely got what you wanted from your efforts. This was certainly the case for his current mission. Eventually he did spy Ria and Jacques. And promptly wished that he hadn't. Because Jacques was all over her like a rash, and Ria seemed to think that eating him would be a wise move. Charlie resisted the urge to let out a growl of frustration. This was emphatically not the ending he had wanted for the evening. Of all the men in the world, she just had to choose the wrong one. What made him more angry than anything was that it was his fault. He had told her to live. He had got her so angry that she had thrown caution to the winds. And he was the reason that she was now doing things he didn't even want to think about with a man well-known for his devilish ways. And she'd said she didn't like devilish men. Dejected, he made his way back to their home, hoping that she would make it back some time before tomorrow morning.
Author's Note: Much as I adore Charlie, Ria et al, I cannot take credit for them entirely. There's a network of people behind Spiritus aduro who care about my characters just as much as I do, sometimes I worry that they care more. A good proportion of this chapter should be credited to my editor-cum-beta reader Andy. Much of Charlie's more inspired dialogue is taken straight from Andy's mouth. Literally. You'd be surprised at some of the conversations we have had over the course of the story. I also owe great thanks to Louise, who backs me up when I'm doubtful, and supports me when I don't agree with Andy. I also have to thank Arabella, for being such a ROXy beta reader. Without these people, there would be no Spiritus aduro. I also want to thank you, the readers. Without your support, Spiritus aduro may have ended up on the rocks. I don't write for reviews - that's not the way to go about this business, but your comments mean a lot to me. If you take the time to review then you are truly stars. Thank you all so much for reading Hallie