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Charlie tossed an turned that night. Mercifully he had the morning off. There really were no secrets in his family. While it wasn't yet common knowledge that Gabrielle had no choice in their match it was known that she was his soul mate and he had some things to think about. But did he really?

What are the facts? he asked himself around two in the morning, when he was finally ready to think rationally about the situation. I have to get married either to my soul mate, Gabby, or to a stranger. If I do not marry Gabby my sister in law won't be able to invite her little sister to her home until said fourteen year old sister is married. If I marry someone who isn't Gabby there is not telling if we would be compatible even as friends. If I reject Gabrielle Delacour I will be, very seriously, ruining her entire life.

Once he'd realized that his decision was all but made for him, Charlie snuggled into his pillow and fell asleep while making plans to see Gabby in the morning.


Gabrielle awoke on Wednesday morning very unhappily, which was unusually for the vibrant witch. Her parents had had dinner with her soul mate, and literally the only man that could ever make her happy as long as she lived, the night before and, if their vague answers to her numerous questions were anything to go by, it hadn't gone well. From what she'd gathered, the older British wizard was ill prepared for the information that her veela mating instincts had chosen him. The only glimmer of hope she had was when her father had told her that, even though Charlie needed to think it through, he was almost certain it would work out. Her father never lied to her.

He would have been prepared, she thought bitterly, if my perfect sister had gotten the same 'blessing of the veela bloodline.' For that was how her mother always described it when explaining the veela heritage. If it's such a 'blessing' then why were maman and papa so relieved when Fleur went through puberty and got nothing more than an unusally high number of suitors? Life is so unfair!

After getting dressed she skulked downstairs in search of breakfast only to feel a pull in her chest in the direction of the main parlor.

"Gabrielle!," he mother called from the parlor before she'd gotten there. "You have a visitor!"

Entering the parlor her heart almost stopped as it swelled with joy. Charles Weasley. He was more beautiful than she remembered. Not terribly tall, but tall enough that she knew he'd always be taller than her, broader than his brothers, short auburn hair, blue grey eyes... in short? Gorgeous. Everything a man should be. Even in the horrible megenta robes he was wearing. She could see the evidence of his very physical work with dragons through the fabric and had to remind herself not to gawk. Though this lead to awkward shifting from foot to foot and avoiding looking at him altogether. Why was this better than gawking?

"Hi," he said with a nervousness that made her frown.

"Hello, Charlie. Have you had breakfast?" she asked, deciding it was even more awkward and embarrassing to be looking at the carpet in front of her feet than at the man to whom she was talking, and looking up.

"Not yet," he blushed. He was so beautiful.

"I was just going to see what the house elves had made if you'd like to join me?" she offered. "Then, maybe, we could talk? I could answer some questions? Though, if they're too technical you may be better off talking to maman."

"Breakfast would be great, thanks," he said, surely taking pity on her and stopping her mouth.

A larger than usual assortment of breakfast items had been laid out on the dining room table and the entire first floor of the manor was suspiciously vacant.

Once they'd awkwardly filled their plates and began to eat in silence Charlie finally said, "So we're getting married."

She nearly spit her orange juice at him.

"You've accepted me?" she asked through her coughing.

"Well, yeah. I mean even if it weren't for the law I couldn't very well let you suffer and with the law it's obvious choice."

"Law? What are you talking about? There's a law for veela mates?" she asked, confused.

"Oh. Erm. I take it your parents didn't tell you that bit," he said looking, if at all possible, more uncomfortable. "You see, since the war the wizarding population of Britain took a large hit, so the Ministry is basically forcing all single witches and wizards between the ages of 17 and 35 in Britain to marry. They gave a week to get engaged to whomever you pleased, now they're matching by soul mate, then they'll give another week to make your own choice, then they'll match by questionnaire," he explained.

"So you're not really choosing me. You're stuck with me. Well at least I won't commit suicide or die of depression," she said melodramatically. Of course he hadn't really chosen her!

"Gabby, I didn't mean it like that. Your parents purposefully kept me away from you. I don't know you," he said firmly. "But I'd like to. Know you I mean."

"Yeah. Whatever," she said into her chocolate croissant.

"Gabrielle Delacour, I don't have to marry you. I don't have to do this. I could have told the Minisrty that I wished to pass up my soul mate and be marrying someone else in a fortnight. I did choose you. So quit pouting into your breakfast and tell me what this means for our immediate future," Charlie scolded.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Well, I'll need to see you every so often to feed the connection between us or it'll ache now that I've properly recognized you as my mate. Nothing too big, just spend some time together. Apparently the veela does this so young to ensure that the mate is found and that the veela is molded, I guess. If you influence me starting at fourteen then it'll influence who I'll be at seventeen and I'll be a better match for my mate."

"How is that going to work when you go back to school?" he asked.

"I don't know. I never thought of that. Maybe it will be enough if we just send letters? It's different since I have so little veela in me, but we'll see."

They finished their breakfast making trivial small talk, both worrying about the logistics of thier very unconventional... relationship... or whatever.


"Well after I scolded her it went well," explained Charlie to George at the counter of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes after they'd finished the store inventory. "She really is quite pretty for a fourteen year old girl. And she seems smart and passionate. She's just so.. such a... well such a fourteen year old girl. Insecure, volatile, shallow, always blushing and giggling and rambling on around me. It's making getting to know her very difficult."

"I think you're thinking about this all wrong, brother dear," said George. "It's like when you're on the dragon reserve, you don't think of the dragon's behavior in human terms, you think of it in dragon terms and work around that. Think of her as a rare, beautiful, fire breathing beast."

"That might work. I'm having dinner with her family on Friday, I'll try putting myself in her shoes then."

"This is the right one!" exclaimed a voice as the bell on the shop door rang. "George! Charlie! I've brought firewhiskey! The shop next door was not your shop. Close up early and help me drink!"

"...Bill? Is everything alright? What are you doing here?" Charlie was worried, his big brother didn't sound right.

"I'm divorced! And right here is an envelope telling me who I'm to spend the rest of my life with," Bill slurred, producing the envelope. "If I refuse to open it then I'll never know who it is and cannot marry her."

"Can't argue with logic like that, can we?" said George, wearily eying their rumpled older brother.

"You know what? I'm glad Fleur divorced me! I shouldn't have married her in the first place! Bloody war making everyone think they were going to die alone," Bill spat, taking a very deep draw from a bottle of very bad firewhiskey.

It seemed that it was going to be another long night for Charlie Weasley.