Life was officially a never ending cycle of work, sleep, and the Order; though, if Bill were being honest, sleep wasn't even something he was quite getting enough of. This wasn't anything like the old days, where he barely slept because he was usually out drinking or having his own sorts of fun adventures with strangers and friends alike. This was him not getting out of work until two in the morning and then finding it hard to wind down.
The last few days, his schedule had been so off thanks to the goblins coming up with even more maddening requests, that he and his fellow curse breakers had been working overtime nearly every night. The magic just never seemed strong enough for them; the curses were apparently too easy to hoodwink—even when it took Bill entire nights to actually break them. In the real world, criminals wouldn't have hours to run their plans. They'd have minutes at best before security came down on them, but the goblins didn't care.
On top of the never ending effort to make Gringotts truly impenetrable, the goblins were still quiet lately on all topics outside of security. Their musings were strictly bank related or their general airing of grievances about the Ministry as a whole. He had nothing of value to bring to Order meetings, which he'd found himself rather techy at lately. He couldn't help but get the impression that some of them felt it was his fault the goblins weren't spilling their innermost secrets to him daily.
"I don't like that they're quiet," Mad-Eye said to him at their latest meeting, having cornered him in the crowded kitchen of Grimmauld Place after the gathering had convened. "Silence tends to be a bad thing. Perhaps they're on to you, Weasley. Have you thought of that? That they feel you know too much—"
"Too much?" Bill asked, noticing that his mother was approaching him after bidding her goodbyes to Shacklebolt, Vance, and Jones. "What do I know outside of them hating the Ministry? That isn't a secret. Goblins give that information freely, Mad-Eye. They'll tell anyone who will listen how much they hate the way the Fudge and his minions treat them."
"But if that pushes them to join ranks with Volde—"
"They're quiet now because the bank's annual numbers are coming in and that's a big deal," Bill assured him. "Now, if they're as quiet once the dust settles in August, then we'll talk." He turned and looked at his expectant mother, wondering what she possibly wanted. "Yes, Mum?"
"You look peaky," she said, reaching up and immediately feeling his cheek. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he said shortly. "I'm just...tired. I haven't been sleeping well"
She stared at him with all the concern a mother could give before she began fretting over him to take home leftovers from dinner so that he could have some food for later. He really didn't want any of it—despite having no real food back at the Burrow—but he knew better than to complain. It was easier to just take it and deal with it later.
"Bill, have you spoken to your brother lately?" his father asked from across the room, having looked away from the conversation he'd been having with Sirius, Remus, and Tonks.
"Which one?" he asked, wondering if he was referring to Percy. That would have been an odd question, seeing as Percy didn't want anything to do with the lot of them given his new, bizarre allegiance to the Ministry. Why his father would have assumed Percy was speaking to him and not the others, he didn't know.
His father made a face as if that should have been obvious. "Charlie."
"Oh. No. Not recently," Bill said, just as his mother had reappeared and started piling packages of food onto him—bag after bag of leftover meats, breads, cheeses and vegetables—it could feed a bloody army. He suddenly wanted to ask how she thought he survived the last six years on his own if she had such little faith in him being able to feed himself.
"You and Charlie usually talk at least once a week, don't you?" asked his mother.
"Yeah, back when we were in the same time zone and life was different," Bill said, thinking of his brother and how the two really hadn't talked much recently. It really was strange since they usually were always reaching out to each other. He should fix that...
"It's just no one's heard from him in a bit," his father said, his face now looking more concerned. "And that could just be because things have been quiet on his end."
"Which I'm sure is the case," said Tonks from her spot at the table. "He's probably busy—"
"But what if it's not?" said Molly, her forehead creases tightening. "What if…?"
"Don't even say it, Molly," said Arthur. "I'm sure he's just busy. He's always been bad at sending letters and keeping in touch. You know that. We may have got three letters from him when he was at Hogwarts."
"Yes, but he's always kept up with Bill," said his mother, gesturing to him. "Half the time when I want to know something about what Charlie's up to, Bill's the one who has the answer. If he's not talking to Bill…"
"Alright, hold on," Bill said quickly. "It's not that he's not talking to me, it's that we haven't talked. My life has been flipped around since moving home and it's not as if I'm ever home in the evenings when he might be popping in on the Floo. I'm probably just missing him."
"Do us a favor and Floo him when you get back to the Burrow, would you?" his father said. "Getting his Floo connected to Grimmauld Place would raise too many flags at the Ministry, so the Burrow is really the only line of communication with him."
"I'll do it when I get back," Bill said obediently, looking over at his mother. "I'll send you a Patronus after I've spoken to him, alright?"
She smiled at him, reaching up and resting her hand on his cheek as if she was examining his face. "Always so good. What would I do without you?"
"You'd have far less children to keep track of," Bill offered, hitching up the packages he was holding and moving toward the door. This was going to be cumbersome to Apparate home with.
"Those should get you through the rest of the week," his mother said with a satisfied smile before instructing him to make sure he actually got some rest that night. He was apparently of no use to anyone if he was dead on his feet. While true, it didn't make things any easier.
Bill wished everyone a good night and carried his load out of the kitchen and into the main corridor. He'd been heading toward the front door to leave when he suddenly heard low voices speaking above him. They sounded as if they were coming from the stairs.
"I don't have to like it," mumbled one of them.
"I don't like it much either, Ron," said the other, this one decidedly female. "But we have to listen to what Dumbledore said. He was very specific."
"You know Harry's not going to like it when he finds out—"
Bill had stepped forward then, now becoming apparent at the bottom of the stairs. He spotted the voices just as they'd spotted him, causing them to stop speaking. His youngest brother, Ron, was sitting on one of the top steps alongside his friend, Hermione. Bill could remember Fred and George teasing Ron about how his face had lit up earlier in the summer when he'd heard she was coming to stay with them at Grimmauld Place—but Ron had told them all to piss right off and acted as if he'd never heard something so ridiculous. That being said, they looked rather close sharing a step right now.
"Hey, Bill," said Ron, nodding toward him. "You nicking all the food?"
"Mum insisted," he muttered, shrugging as if that should explain everything. He nodded to Hermione. "Hello, Hermione. When did you get in?"
"Two days ago," she said with a polite smile. "Ron tells me you've moved back home from Egypt. How has that been?"
"Exhausting," he said with his own polite smile. "Headed home to sleep now."
Ron stood then, walking down a couple of stairs. "Here's hoping the stragglers from the meeting have finally decided to leave and mum will actually let me in. I'm starving and—"
With a sudden and very loud pop, both Fred and George appeared standing just at the bottom of the stairs; startling everyone with their new—and obnoxious—-ability to Apparate. Ron had nearly walked straight into them, causing him to swear loudly before shoving right on past them.
"Everyone is tired of you doing that!"
Fred shoved him back, though made a point to bow rather theatrically and extend his arm out to gesture for Hermione to pass as she trailed after Ron. "By all means. I wouldn't want you two to get separated."
That earned him an eye roll and an annoyed sounding, "Honestly…"
Bill threw his brothers a tired look. "Apparition going well?"
"Oh, look it's Bill!" George said, feigning surprise as he greeted him. "The favorite. The golden child. The only one who's actually allowed to attend Order meetings."
"Because I'm in the Order."
"But we should be allowed to be!" Fred argued. "We're seventeen!"
"You're also still in school. Mum and dad are right—"
"Spoken like the true golden child," George muttered. "Falling right in line."
"Yeah, notice he never denied the favorite child thing," Fred quipped as he picked up one of the wrapped food packages out of Bill's arms. He sniffed, gave a lazy shrug, and then pocketed it.
Bill feigned a self-satisfied smugness as he looked from one twin to the other. "The truth hurts."
Fred mimicked, "Truth hurts…" before taking another package from the top of the stack and handing it to George.
"If only you were more like Bill," George said in a poor impression of their mother. "If we had a Galleon for every time…" He trailed off and looked at Fred. "Well, we'd have been swimming in money from the start, wouldn't we? We wouldn't have needed an investor—"
Fred elbowed him then, just as Bill looked from one to the other. Neither reacted; they both were doing that thing they often did where they would pull identical blank stares when they didn't want to further explain or incriminate themselves. Bill had found himself on the receiving end many times when they'd gone around breaking his stuff when they were all smaller.
"You have an investor for what?" he asked, not fully believing them, but also sure they were most likely up to something. "The joke stuff?"
"Don't worry about it," George said. "Believe it or not, unlike our mother, someone believes in us."
"And thanks to them," Fred added, "we've been able to since abandon our plans to rob Gringotts for the funds. We know how awkward that would have made things for you."
"We're looking out for you," George added.
Bill sighed. "You know what? I'm sorry I asked."
"Good," they both said in perfect unison, just as Fred added—in a clear attempt to change the subject, "What did you all talk about in the meeting today?"
"Why?" Bill asked. "Did you not eavesdrop? Your Extendable Ears things not work this time?"
They both pulled matching aggravated faces before George muttered, "Hermione brought her bloody cat along with her..."
"We had an unforeseen interference today," Fred said matter-of-factly. "It's been noted and will be handled for future attempts. That being said, since we did miss today, perhaps you can keep up to speed there. What's the current situation?"
Bill was already turning toward the door before Fred had even finished speaking. "The current situation is that I'm going home and going to sleep since I have work tomorrow. Goodnight."
One of the twins—probably Fred—groaned as Bill headed toward the front door. "You used to be fun. You're sounding more and more like Percy everyday."
"That's a low blow," muttered the other. "No one deserves to be called that."
Bill had put his hand on the doorknob, but turned to shoot them both sharp looks and tell them both to lay off the Percy talk around their parents, seeing as it just made things tense. That was the last thing anyone needed these days. "Just behave yourselves, will you?"
"We always do," said George, smiling back at him in a way that made Bill decide he wasn't in the mood for any of this anymore. He pulled the door open and Apparated moments later, appearing right outside the Burrow in the same spot he always found himself landing on since he'd learned to Apparate many years before.
He could hear the chickens clucking off in the distance and was reminded that he still needed to feed them before he settled in. If he didn't, his mother would find out and decide she needed to come visit more often—and usually unannounced. He wasn't fond of the unannounced visits.
He put the food away, walked himself back outside to the chicken coop, and tended and fed the twelves birds that were clucking around the pen and looking very excited for their supper. As he threw them all feed, he was reminded of the days where he and Charlie would sit around and name them all silly things like Fanny and Poo. There was a brief time Percy thought all of that was silly and fun too, but he grew out of it quickly and then started tattling on them to their mother for their absurd names.
From there all on out, they were all given proper names, like Daisy or Cordelia or Helen. One bunch Charlie had named after all of his favorite Quidditch Seekers. In another, Percy had done all the professors at school. They'd only once called them after everyone in their family, but that stopped when the twins announced one night at dinner that they'd selected "Ron" to eat, which had sent a small Ron into hysterics. Their father banned them from naming them after family members after that.
As Bill stood there watching the chickens clamor for their dinner, he didn't know if any of them had names now—he didn't even know if anyone still bothered to try. Ginny may still take the time, but she hadn't been home recently. Maybe his mum still kept it up.
He put away the chicken feed and walked back up to the house, glancing around at the never changing landscape that was his childhood home. There wasn't an inch of it he couldn't paint with some memory, most of them involving him and Charlie spending hours and hours prowling the property as kids. It reminded him that he had said he would try and Floo message him.
He walked back in the house and over to grab himself one of the very few things he bothered to put in the icebox, a bottle of beer. He used his wand to pop off the top and wandered into the sitting room, where he used his wand to start a fire, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the flames. He watched them change color from orange to green, and proceeded to stick his head inside after a few calm seconds.
"Charlie," he said clearly, waiting for a moment before saying it again. "Charlie?"
There was no response, and his view into Charlie's small sitting room showed it to be empty. He waited a few more seconds, the flames tickling his neck as he repeated his brother's name three more times for good measure before pulling himself out of the fireplace. He sat back and rubbed his neck, checking the clock and realizing it was eleven o'clock in Romania. Maybe he was out? He certainly wasn't asleep. Charlie was a night owl like him.
He swigged at his beer and felt at a loss for what to do. He could actually go to sleep; that would probably be the wise thing to do. He had been about to pull himself up to the floor and go take a shower when the flames suddenly flashed green. In an instant, there appeared the face of his brother with a large grin plastered to his face.
"Evening Bill-iam!" he said, his head suspended in the flames. "Sorry I missed you. I was finishing up in the loo and can only move so fast off the toilet. But I'm glad you popped in. I was just thinking about you."
"On the toilet?" Bill asked. "I didn't need to know that."
"Yeah, on the toilet," he said sarcastically. "You're all I ever think about there." He shook his head. "I meant earlier today, you git. I was planning on seeing if you were around. It's been ages, you know? Long time no see."
"Technically this is still 'long time no see,'" Bill said, smiling back at his brother fondly as he positioned himself on the floor closer to the fire. "I don't consider a Floo chat seeing you." He paused before adding, "You don't get to count this next time someone asks how long it's been."
"I just saw you a few months ago," Charlie said. "How much more do you want?"
"Enough to keep mum and dad off my back when they ask why you haven't checked in," he said. "When you go radio silent, mum automatically thinks you're dead in a ditch somewhere."
"Well, that's ridiculous," he said. "I don't hang out anywhere near ditches. So many more creative ways for me to go. I work with dragons, for fuck's sake. The opportunities are endless."
Bill chuckled to himself before he reached over and grabbed his beer to swig. He absently examined it before Charlie asked, "How's being back at the Burrow?"
He sighed heavily. "I can't even begin to explain how bizarre being home again is. Especially with no end in sight. Sometimes I feel as if I'm trapped in some time warp." He looked up into Charlie's flaming face. "When I take a shower for instance, it's as if I've gone back in time. Everything is exactly as it's always been."
"Minus the eight other people banging on the door and yelling for you to get out."
Bill laughed. "True. But it's more this weird feeling where it's the exact same view as when I was five, ten, fifteen…" He looked back down at his beer. "And that's one thing when you're visiting because that feels nostalgic, but when you're living here after having got out, it's sort of depressing."
"That's some deep thinking for the shower," Charlie said. "Do you always get so introspective in there?"
"Don't you?" Bill asked. "What else is there to do?"
"I don't know. Touch yourself like a normal person?" Charlie offered, causing Bill to laugh out loud. "Who had the time to think there? I'd been trained since I was a kid to get in and out in a minute and a half."
"You were never in and out in a minute and a half," Bill countered. "You always took longer than anyone."
"Probably because I was touching myself."
Bill laughed again, and it felt good to genuinely laugh with Charlie. Loads of people could make him laugh, but something about Charlie just hit him differently, like eating a favorite food or sleeping in a familiar bed.
"And don't act all high and mighty like you didn't," Charlie added. "We both know that was the only place to get any bloody privacy in that place."
"Which is why it's so weird to have the place so empty now," Bill said before he again drank from his beer. "It's oddly quiet. Too quiet."
"I can't even imagine," Charlie muttered. "The Burrow and quiet are not words I'd pair together. Are you back in our room?"
"You mean my room?" Bill asked. "The one I let you live in on summer holidays? Yes."
"The one you let me..." Charlie said, sounding affronted. "So benevolent of you to give me shelter, your highness."
"It was the least I could do since mum and dad decided you'd be better off roomless," Bill joked.
"You joke, but it's true," Charlie said, readily agreeing as he pulled a face. "They gave my room to Ginny the moment they could. I'm the only one of you with nothing to claim as my own there."
"Is this the part of the conversation where we throw you a pity party?"
"You know I'll never turn one down," Charlie said. "I do love a good party."
Bill found himself smiling in a fond sort of way, immediately being reminded of the old days where Charlie and him had been forced to be roommates and have back-and-forths like this daily.
When it had initially happened, the two of them—Charlie especially—had been livid. Being the oldest at eleven and nine they assumed they had rights over their kid siblings, but apparently that was a load of tosh. Their parents had decided, rather unceremoniously, that the little ones got their own rooms, while he and Charlie got to share.
It was ultimately because Bill was headed to Hogwarts, which happened to coincide with a one-year-old Ginny needing to move out of their parents room and into her own space. They counted on Bill not being home for most of the year—which opened up a bedroom. Giving a toddler the second largest bedroom in the house seemed silly, and with Charlie leaving for school shortly after him, it apparently made sense for the two older boys to share the larger space when they were both home. Thus, Charlie was moved out of his small room for Ginny and into a room with Bill.
So for every summer for Bill's entire career at Hogwarts, he returned home to share his space with his loud, messy, dragon obsessed, smelly-from-Quidditch brother.
On the whole, it was honestly fine. There were definitely days it drove them both mental to the point where it made sense that both of them ran as far away as they could to finally get their own space. Charlie especially—when asked by their mother why he felt the need to move so far away—had responded, "I moved so far away so I could finally get my own room."
But he and Charlie had always got on and been tight in an 'opposites attract' sort of way. As teenagers, they bonded over their shared resentment of Percy, whose little eleven-year-old arse still got to keep his own room once he'd gone to Hogwarts, even though Charlie at fourteen and Bill at sixteen were rowing over getting some privacy. Still the alternative was that Charlie would have to room with Percy or a seven-year-old Ron, which—and Bill knew this—had he really pushed for it, he could have made it happen.
But he never did. Maybe it was because Charlie threatened to move out of the house if he did; maybe it was because he ultimately really didn't mind sharing a couple of months with Charlie, who did end up becoming his best friend over those summer days where they would stay up all night talking. He did miss him terribly now that they never saw each other, hence why sitting here beside the fire talking to him felt rather cathartic.
"I personally think I'd enjoy having the place to myself for a bit," Charlie offered. "Only because I don't know what it feels like."
"It was all fun at first," Bill said, watching as the firelight bounced off the floor and walls surrounding the fireplace. "But after a week or so, I actually find myself dawdling around with dad, mum, and the others just for someone to talk to."
Charlie was quiet for a bit, and Bill had to actually check to see if he was still there before he finally said, "You alright, Billy?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You sound sad, if I'm being honest."
Bill shrugged. "Sad isn't the right word. Bored? Unfulfilled? I went from handling ancient and fatal curses in Egypt to playing around in bank vaults and paperwork. It's boring. And don't get me wrong, boredom is a good thing when it comes to…"
He stopped short of mentioning the Order in case the Floo was being monitored, instead using their code phrase, "dinners with the family...I'd rather be bored than dealing with the alternative. But you can only watch so much with nothing happening before you want to tear your hair out."
"You sound like you need to get out and have a little fun," Charlie offered. "Why not look up some of those old friends of yours?"
Bill shrugged again, finishing his beer. "I fell out of touch with most of them when I left. And let's not pretend I have the time to devote to people. Dinners with the family take up all of my free moments. Plus, it's hard to ask friends to meet up at the pub one night, only to drop them for weeks at a time because the family's got you...doing things."
"Just tell them all you're married to your job and you thoroughly enjoy working yourself to death," Charlie said. "If that doesn't work, maybe consider telling everyone you have a goblin fetish and you really enjoy being around them. You know, sexually."
Bill stared at him. "Where do you come up with…?" He rubbed his eyes. "I'm not that bored, you git."
Charlie laughed loudly. "I'm only looking to get a rise out of you. Keep you on your toes. It would be quite a fall to go from the girls you usually pull to goblins—but honestly, who would I be to judge? Everyone's got their kinks."
"If I start fucking around with goblins, feel free to judge away," Bill mumbled. "I'll stick to women."
"Maybe that's what you need," Charlie said. "How long has it been since you've been with someone?" He paused and emphasized the next part in an identical manner as he'd done minutes before, "You know, sexually."
Bill sighed, but considered the question. "It's actually been a bit. It was before I moved back home. Before I visited in June. I want to say...March? I think? I don't know. But I don't mind going without sex for a few months. It's never bothered me."
"Probably because you've never gone more than a few months without sex," Charlie countered. "Honest question, what's the longest you've ever gone?"
"I don't keep track. Who keeps track?"
"Spoken like someone who's had no shortage of opportunity a day in his life," Charlie muttered. "You realize you're annoying, don't you?"
Bill laughed, watching as Charlie rolled his eyes in the fire, but eventually gave in to laughing himself. He eventually added, "Well, your 'few months' is about to become 'many months' the way you're moping, so perhaps think about making a night of it with one of those pretty girls you always manage to pull."
Bill didn't immediately reply to that. The image of Fleur had popped into his head, as it often did during lulls in his thoughts or when he simply needed something nice to think about. She'd been making her way into his thoughts constantly lately.
"There is one girl…" he offered.
"Of course there is," Charlie said. "With you, there always is."
"I work with her at the bank," Bill continued. "She seems pretty keen. Very flirty. She's made her intentions quite clear."
"I like a girl who puts it all out there."
"So do I," Bill muttered. "I haven't really reacted much one way or the other. I've just been letting it play out."
"Why? What are you waiting for?"
"Nothing, I'm just busy," he said. "All the time. I don't have time for anything right now."
"You don't have time to get shagged?" Charlie asked doubtfully. "You don't have a bloody hour in your day to spare?"
"No, I don't, but that's not the point. See, she's cool. She's sophisticated. She's absolutely gorgeous and I keep finding myself getting more and more interested. It's not something you'd only want an hour for. I'd want more. I'd want hours. Weeks if I can get them, and that's what I don't have time for."
"On a scale of one to ten, how gorgeous are we talking?"
"Ten," Bill said without hesitation.
"Wait, a ten?!" Charlie barked. "You don't ever give out tens, Billy. You used to give me shit for claiming every girl who talked to me was a ten. What was it you always said? 'Ten's the best, Charlie. You have to save it for the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. You can't give them out to just anyone.'"
"I know what I said," Bill said.
Charlie gaped at him. "Well, shit, if she's a ten on your scale, she must be some kind of bloody goddess. Mind bending kinds of stunning."
Bill stared into the fire with a look he just expected his brother to understand. "I mean, she is. Charlie, picture the best looking girl you've ever seen and then double it. Triple it even. She's beautiful."
Charlie's expression was very, 'what the fuck?' He was staring at him as if he hadn't heard him correctly. "And you're not acting on this because…?"
"And," Bill continued, ignoring him, "she's clever and witty, too. Definitely not just a pretty face. Confident as all get up, but she has every reason to be. It's actually really sexy."
"Oh, well, now it makes sense why you're letting this slip by," Charlie said with an eye roll. "I was confused for a moment there."
"I'm legitimately busy."
"Make the time," Charlie snapped at him. "She sounds like a catch and you're definitely keen. You actually sound smitten."
Bill shook his head. "I wouldn't go that far. I don't even know her that well. Not saying I wouldn't want to get to know her better."
"Then ask her out, you thickhead. That's how it works. When did these roles get reversed? Why am I giving you dating advice?"
"Again," Bill reiterated in a rather irritated manner. "I don't have the time, Charlie. This—this right here—is my first spot of free time in a week."
Charlie sighed, evidently frustrated and muttering something about, "Who ignores a ten?" Bill took the moment to look off toward the now vacant spot where the Weasley family clock used to hang. His mother had taken it with her to Grimmauld Place to track everyone, so now it simply revealed a large, empty spot on the wall.
"She's also young," Bill added as an afterthought. "Younger than I'm used to."
"How young?" Charlie asked. "Please tell me you're not about to make goblin fetishes the least creepy thing we've discussed tonight."
Bill threw him a look. "She's obviously legal. She's…" He sighed and scratched his head. "Eighteen." He then quickly added. "Nearly nineteen."
Charlie was quiet for once; he looked to be processing that information. "Yeah, that is a bit young. I mean, it's not scandalous or anything, but I question what you have in common with an eighteen-year-old."
"She's mature for her age."
Charlie laughed. "That's what all the creepy old men say."
"Piss off," Bill said. "She really is very mature. She's been through quite a bit in the last year. She was in the Triwizard Tournament and had to deal with all of the fallout of what happened to Harry and Cedric. You probably saw her when you were visiting for it."
"Wait, the girl? The one from Beauxbatons? She had Lucinda in the first task? My Common Welsh Green?"
Bill shrugged. "I think so? I don't remember which dragon she had, but you're thinking of the right girl. Fleur Delacour."
"She did well against Lucinda," Charlie mused, as if his train of thought had been completely hijacked. "And Lucinda can be fairly tricky for a Welsh Green. Very temperamental. You know how they're usually a fairly docile breed, but—"
"Charlie."
"Right, sorry. No, but I do remember her." He paused. "She's French, right?"
"She is. She moved here to work on her English. I've been helping her."
"You speak French now?"
He shook his head. "No, but her English is great, so it hasn't been difficult."
Charlie was slowly nodding, as if absorbing everything that was being said. After a pause he said, "She was very pretty."
"She is," Bill said, clicking his tongue absently as he stared into the fire.
"And she just finished school."
"She did."
"And you finished school a while ago."
"I did."
Charlie was quiet again before adding, "She's the same age as Percy."
Bill closed his eyes. Leave it to Charlie to always bring out the uncomfortable truths. "Fuck, when you put it that way…"
He laughed. "It's my job to put things into perspective."
Bill groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I can remember Percy being born."
"Who doesn't? Sucked all the fun out of the room from day one," Charlie muttered. "Speaking of him, is he still not—?"
"Nope."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Little prat. Who does he think he is?"
Bill shrugged. "Blinded by ambition, I suppose. Not that that's an excuse."
"I don't…" He was shaking his head as if he couldn't be bothered. "You know, forget Percy. Let's get back to this ten of yours because she doesn't make me want to curse things. Now despite our younger brother demonstrating that eighteen-year-olds are dumb fucks who need the world to kick them in the arse a bit, I'm sure your girl is lovely."
Bill laughed before Charlie immediately added, "And in all seriousness, eighteen really isn't that young."
"I don't think so, but people have been making comments."
"Eh, fuck 'em," Charlie said, and it was evident he meant it. That had always been a huge difference between the two of them—Charlie didn't care what anyone thought of him, whereas Bill generally did. He'd always been conscious of what people thought. He always played nice; he was polite. Charlie truly did not care and made sure everyone knew it.
"I don't even know why we're talking about this—about her," Bill said. "The last thing I have time for is a beautiful girl who will distract me from the ten thousand other things I have to deal with. And she's the type that if I don't bite soon, there will be loads of other blokes who would happily step up. The timing is shit. It's just not meant to be right now."
Charlie sighed. "You keep telling yourself that, Billy."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I can tell by the way you summed her up in a few sentences that you're actually more keen than you're letting on. And while I understand you're busy, everyone's busy. Life is busy. And it's not going to stop because You-Know-Who is trying to work himself out. It's important to find a little light and love in the dark these days, and Merlin knows you need some light."
"Alright, Dumbledore," Bill muttered. "Are you listening to yourself?"
"You know, I'm nearly as wise as him," Charlie said, cracking a smile. "I've always said so."
"You're a crackpot is what you are," Bill said, letting himself laugh a little before he leaned back on his arms and thought on what Charlie had actually said.
He wasn't wrong—which was a first, because Charlie didn't have the best track record when it came to relationships or dating. He wasn't the type one took advice from considering he tended to get bored with people easily. Dragons never, but people—easily. He never could commit to anyone for more than a couple weeks. He'd also been telling anyone who would listen since he was ten that he had no plans or interest to ever have a family or children of his own since he apparently had more than his fill with five younger siblings.
That being said, he was making sense. Shit could happen any minute. Their Uncles Gideon and Fabian hadn't planned to die to the day they were murdered, and that had also been due to Voldemort. It was important to fight him, but it was important to live life as well. If his parents had stopped living life to fight the fight against Voldemort, they may not even be married; he probably wouldn't even exist. It was important to keep living.
The pair talked for a half an hour more before Bill started to feel a wave of exhaustion overcome him that made it hard to keep his eyes open. He'd learned lately to take sleep when it came since it so rarely did when he wanted it to. He was going to be useless if he didn't get some sleep one of these days.
"I'm going to bed," Bill said, yawning as he said it. "I'm knackered."
"Yeah, alright," Charlie said. "I'll pop back in soon enough. Especially if I have anything to add to family dinner." He smiled a bit. "Take care of yourself, Billy. Get some rest. Go ask you ten out. Don't let yourself slip into madness."
"I won't." He smiled back. "It was good talking to you, Charlie."
"You too," he said. "You know, you being back home almost makes me want to move back and get the gang back together. But then I remember I can only take about a week there before I want to run off again, so it would never work."
"Oh come on," Bill teased. "We could share the old room."
"God, no," Charlie said immediately, feigning horror. "I miss you, but not that much. Never that much."
Bill laughed, telling his brother he missed him too before wishing him a goodbye and then watching as he disappeared away into the flames. After a few seconds, he was now staring at nothing more than the crackling fire as it danced across the hearth. His eyes hurt from staring into the flames.
The light and warmth was nice, though. Perhaps he really did need more of it in his life.