I am so sorry about the late posting; i've been really caught up in 'real life' lately - assignments and that kind of thing, so i'm super sorry. To make up for it, I've put a little extra something in the end notes for you guys.
H.
Hogwarts was nightmareish. A ghoulish mirror of the school he had known and loved so much.
Charlie, Kata, and the rest of the auxiliary force from the supporters that he had called up, arrived with a roar. Later he would learn that they were the ones who turned the tide of the war; that they arrived at the critical point, when the creatures of Hogwarts finally acted.
The quidditch pitch was still burning, the stands falling with deep whoomps, sending embers spiralling into the air, but he focused on finding the battle.
As he and Kata ran towards the great courtyard, he saw the terrible scars of the battle littered like castaway rubbish. Blood stained the stones, the grass. Bodies of death-eaters and giants lay about, too few to be the sum total of the loss, and Charlie knew that there would be many more collected somewhere on the grounds.
The cry of some giant thundered from the direction of the great hall and Charlie and the rest of the fighters behind his backs raced towards the entrance hall, swarming up the gouged grass banks.
He was blasting spells from his wand as he ran up the steps, overtaking a Professor Slughorn who urged them on with a cry. Centaurs raced past him, loosing arrows from their longbows with great and terrible results as death fell from above with thesterals and Buckbeak the hippogriff aiding in the attack.
He focused on fighting, on protecting, but under that, aching with fierce worry, was the need to find his family, to find Harry, to protect them, and make sure that they were safe.
He got hit by a cutting spell, but luckily, his dragon leathers copped the brunt of it, and he shot a retaliatory entrails-expelling curse and was rewarded by a cry sharply cut off by the thrum of a bow and the meaty smack of an arrow.
He spotted his father duelling two death eaters at once and ran to join him.
"Dad!" He cried, casting a shield charm and retaliated with an overpowered severing hex.
"Charlie!" Arthur Weasley cried, narrowly missing a dark purple curse that crackled with the smell of ozone as is flew past. "Expulso!" he roared bringing his wand down, whip fast. The death eater exploded with a cry.
"Where's mum!?" Charlie asked, sending a hex flying at a Death Eater who was taking aim at a downed centaur kicked desperately at the corpse of the acromantula pinning him down.
"I don't know! She went to find your sister! She went to find Bellatrix!"
"And Harry!?"
His Dad's face tightened and he looked away from Charlie and utter despair and denial swept over him.
"Dead son. Voldemort killed him. Him and- and- Fred."
Charlie was ice. "No." He said softly, standing stock still, then louder, "No. No! NO!" Charlie turned on his heel and he was a dragon. He was rage and hate and loss and sorrow. Harry was gone- Fred was gone, probably along with countless other people who Charlie knew. And Voldemort had caused this all. Somewhere, as if from a great distance, his father called, 'Charlie! Protect yourself!" and batted away a purple hex aimed at Charlie's torso.
He would not- could not. This wouldn't – no- no-NO!
Charlie flung his head back and roared.
Wordlessly fire bloomed abound him and engulfed the whole area. With a cry, his father shielded himself from the searing heat as, with a snarl ripping from his throat, Charlie apperated. Later he would count himself lucky that the anti-apperation wards had been broken, but for now, his mind a haze of fury, he didn't pause to consider it.
"Charlie!" His father cried, reaching for the spot where his son had just been. "CHARLIE!"
Charlie apperated from spot to spot in the castle, casting a hex here, or a curse there, sometimes pulling someone out from the path of an unblockable spell as he looked for the monster who had started this all.
He apperated into the great hall. His mother was duelling Bellatrix with a terrifying hatred; the ground was cracking and splitting under the two witches from the heat of the spells they were trading. Charlie let himself spare a moment of worry and fear for his mother before he was running towards Voldemort where he was duelling three people at once, his face a rictus of glacial fury. With a roar, he slashed his wand to join the battle, Voldemort spinning to defend from and attack his new opponent.
From the corner of his eye, he saw his mother whip her wand down with a cry of 'Bitch!', saw Bellatrix fall, heard the furious cry of Voldemort, before he was flung backwards along with Professor McGonagall, Kingsley and Slughorn.
Somewhere, distantly, he heard the cry of protago and knew that someone had protected his mother from Voldemort's fury. But he couldn't thank them now. His lungs felt like they had been punched in, and he wheezed for breath, rolling over onto his side and then onto all fours, wand clutched in one hand.
When he looked up, abused lungs protesting and bones creaking, Harry was standing there in all his impossibility, and suddenly Charlie knew hope again.
Harry. Harry. "Harry." Charlie croaked and around him, people did the same with sudden hope and joy.
He lived, he lived, lived.
The small army of broken, tired, but triumphant people huddled in the great hall. All around him families sat and people rejoiced in mixed emotions, some happier and more joyous than others. People around him were eating or throwing food through the ruined walls to the laughing giant who sat outside.
Charlie sat with his mourning family as they grieved as one. Bill had Fluer curled in his arms; His mother stood in his father's arms, weeping while his father rocked her, face a mask of sorrow. Ron sat with Hermione, their hands clasped tightly while Percy stood a little off to one side, Ginny's head hidden in him as she cried. All had faces ridged into expressions of grief, but it broke Charlie's heart to see his younger brothers, the Twins.
He gripped his head with one large hand, fingertips digging into his temples and tears spiking hot against his eyelids, damp against his palm. He swiped his hand fiercely down his face, if only he had been there then perhaps it wouldn't have happened. Perhaps he could have stopped it. Merlin and Morgana, he would've given anything to have stopped it.
Merlin. The Twins.
George kneeled, body curled, spine hunched, next to his twin. His forehead rested on Fred's' bruised shoulder, just above the caved in chest. There was a grief that Charlie didn't think that he could ever understand fully. Fred's eyes were staring up, sightless, at the gaping roof of the great hall. It was wrong.
"Charlie?" His mother's tremulous voice broke through his thoughts.
"Fred's eyes – he," Charlie fumbled for words before he gave up on them, instead reaching over to close Fred's eyes with two gentle fingers. The skin was cold to the touch.
"They shouldn't be open." He said.
"Thank you Charlie." His dad murmured, and Charlie nodded, drawing back to give George space for his grief. At first, his mum had tried holding him, but George had refused, struggling out of her grip to be with his brother.
He couldn't help glancing about for Harry. He needed – wanted- to speak with him, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to, not only did he not want to be like the people who came up to him with joy and hope and tears, but he also didn't know what his reception would be if he did. This Harry was a new and different stranger. This Harry was The Saviour. Charlie didn't know what Harry had gone through in the one year war, but it had drawn a new hardness to him; chiselled his lines and removed the last of his softness. So it was with small and guilty relief that he allowed himself to not move, justifying it with the knowledge that his family needed him.
"Hey Charlie." Kata's voice, impossibly weary, sounded from his shoulder as she moved to stand next to him.
"Kata." He said. Relief was heavy in his voice; he was glad that, for all the casualties, Kata was still alive. He turned and hugged her tightly, exhaustion not allowing a show of anything more exuberant than that. She accepted, gripping tightly to him, face buried in his chest.
"Thank god, Charlie, thank god." There was a tired sob in her voice. "So many dead. So many hurt."
Charlie drew back and bent down a little to look at her, "but you're okay?" he asked, brushing a wisp of bloody singed hair behind her ear.
She nodded, "Nothing a healer couldn't fix."
"Kata…" Charlie warned and she sighed at him in defeat.
"I almost lost my arm, but they managed to reattach it; someone helped me to a healer."
"Fuck." Charlie said and lifted her arm, now noticing the bloodstained dragon leathers and the white scar on just above her elbow showing through the neat slice in the ruined leather.
"It's fine Charlie. I'm okay." Kata said softly but firmly, placing one hand on his shoulder in reassurance.
"Alright. So long as you're sure."
She smiled up at him, tiredly, and he drew her into a hug, forcing himself to be strong her the sake of his friend.
"But are you okay Charlie?" Kata asked, with an unusual gentleness in her voice.
Charlie hesitated, the shook his head once, "No. But I will be."
"I'm sorry about your brother." She said, biting her lip.
Charlie nodded, felt a tremble in his throat, the warning burn of tears, and he closed his eyes to squeeze away the tears that threatened to spill.
Too many dead. Too many hurt.
"Oh Charlie." His friend said, the compassion so strong in her voice that he couldn't help but hug her closer, fingers gripping tight to her back.
After a moment she stepped back and said, "You be with your family." She took a deep and shaky breath, before she firmed herself and said, "I'm going to find a grate that's attached to a floo system so I can firecall the reserve."
"Thanks Kata." Charlie gave her a weak smile before he turned and stepped back towards his family. With a forced breath, he pushed away the desire to hold Harry; that was no longer his place. Harry would move on, Charlie was only a dragon keeper while Harry was the saviour of the wizarding world.
Charlie knew that Harry would move on to better people, even as he felt the pang of another loss.
Harry was swamped by the crowd of people who tried to make their selves part of him, hands touching, grabbing, trying to feel some of the glory that they felt he carried. The noise was a deafening wave that swamped him, Ron and Hermione's arms were around him, grounding him, preventing him from getting carried away the hundreds of people trying to get close to him.
All he wanted to do was sleep and see the few people who mattered most to him, but he couldn't. He was part of them, leader and symbol, saviour and guide; belonging to all and none. He must speak to the bereaved, hear their thanks, witness their tears and be strong for them even when all he wanted to do was collapse from weariness. It was a while before he was able to sit down on a bench beside Luna, who smiled at him in welcome, but didn't do anymore than that.
"If I were me," She said almost conversationally into the air, not looking at him, "I'd want some peace and quiet."
"I'd love some." Harry replied.
"I'll distract them all, use your cloak."
Before he could say a word, she made good on her promise and he slid the cloak on and slipped away. Now unimpeded, he could see who he was looking for, Charlie, and his breath stuttered at the sight of the tall man who was standing with his family. He'd had the same reaction when he'd seen Charlie storming up the steps ahead of Slughorn at the head of a large force of defenders, and then again when Charlie had been fighting with uncharacteristic rage and fury. Harry bit his lip, hesitating. Should he go over? Would it be alright if he did, surely it would be okay to talk to the man who was a friend and a sometimes lover? He shifted in place but before he could make up his mind, a tall leggy blond woman approached Charlie who turned and hugged her tightly, moving slightly away from the rest of his family. Of course Charlie would've moved on, Harry thought bitterly. Even had made it very clear what Charlie was like, he should've known that it wouldn't have lasted. Charlie had probably only written and talked to him out of pity, and the sex – well. He highly doubted that Charlie would have ever turned down free sex.
Harry's heart hardened and he moved away, locking this new hurt under the deaths of Fred and Tonks and Remus and countless others. He passed Neville and moved towards where Ron and Hermione were sitting, with the rest of the Weasleys'.
"It's me," he muttered, crouching beside them. "Will you come with me?"
Used to Harry's cloaked comments, they didn't look about wildly, or exclaim with shock, but simply rose from their places and together with Harry, left the Great Hall.
They would look at the bright dawn of day and know that world was a better place.
Harry did not let himself feel heartsick for the second oldest Weasley as he held the hands of his two best friends and looked at the rise of a new sun.
Charlie stayed at the Burrow in the ensuring weeks after the battle, dealing with loss and trying to support his family in whichever way he could. But it was hard, it was bloody hard. His mum responded by gathering them together as much as possible, hooking them behind her apron strings, trying to cope by cooking and cleaning and fussing over each of her children as well as anyone who happened to be in the Burrow. It was almost stifling the way that she sat over them, but even more, it was heart breaking. She didn't want to let anyone out of her sight, not Ron or Ginny, Percy or Bill or Charlie himself, not Harry or Hermione who were here too, and not George. Especially not George.
His funny, mischief making, joke cracking, prank-pulling brother was a shadow of his former self. Half of his self, half of his identity, was gone and the loss had left him empty. The hollow space at his side, the dark hole at the side of his head, was glaring and the silence it projected spoken louder than any tears.
It was not helped by the fact that his mum would take one look at George and start to weep tears, lips trembling, and voice a thin waver, but if it wasn't the tears it was the looks. The shaky looks she would give George as if he too would disappear were almost as bad, because the only thing that George did when he got those was to leave the room, his freckles stark in this pale face. The only one who could stop his mum doing that was his dad, and he wasn't there for most of the day.
Arthur Weasley was quiet, very quiet. He went to work each day with a solemn look and came back home exhausted; the work of rebuilding the ministry, of rooting out corruption, of all the death eater trials he was forced to attend was an unrelenting grinding stone.
It did not come as a surprise to Charlie that something would have to happen, that the fragile safe place they'd all eked out would not last.
Bill was the first to leave with Fleur.
"We have our own house mum." He explained to her, carefully, quietly, as her lips trembled anew and tears spiked visibly in her eyelashes. "There's not enough room here, and we both have to get back to work. We'll floo over for Sunday dinner, okay?"
Molly nodded weakly, "I know."
Sighing heavily, Bill drew her into a hug, pressing her close to him as she sniffed.
"I miss him too mum." His voice was thin, and Charlie averted his eyes. More than ever, he hated the fact that he was no good at helping people, at comfort.
"We shall see you on Sunday Molly." Fleur said softly when Bill stepped back. They gave a small wave before apperating away with a small pop, leaving Molly standing there, wringing her wand in her hands.
Charlie stood there, feeling useless before he said, "Come on mum. I'll make you a cup of tea."
His mum gave him a trembling smile and allowed him to take her inside.
It was all the worse because he and Harry were studiously keeping their distance. Everything that was good about them had twisted slightly, what used to be a relaxed easiness between them was now a stiff and awkward silence.
Charlie had known that something had changed between them after the battle, when neither he nor Harry approached each other. It was partly Charlie's fault, he knew, but he didn't know how to approach this new Harry, 'the saviour'. And when Harry hadn't come near him either, Charlie knew that there was definitely something wrong.
It had finally clicked into place when Harry approached him a day or two after the battle. He was standing in the garden chucking gnomes over the fence, taking no pleasure in it except for the fact that the physical exertion felt good, and it was nice to take his frustration out on something that wouldn't burst into tears.
He's just managed to hit the hollow stump for the second time when he became aware of Harry approaching him.
"Hey Harry." He said, licking his lips a little nervously. He didn't much like the look on Harry's face, all serious deliberation and furrowed brows.
Harry nodded at him. "Charlie." He frowned a little and bit his lip as if he was considering what he might say. Charlie didn't have to wait too long before Harry spoke in statements. "I want to say thank you for writing to me. It- helped. But you don't have to feel obliged anymore. I mean, you don't have to write to me anymore."
Blindsided, Charlie stood there stunned and blinking, for once, lost for words. "Oh." Was all he could manage.
"Thanks for everything. But you don't have to do so anymore."
Charlie was still trying to reach for words when Harry nodded at him just once and then turned and left. He stood there blinking, trying to process this, before he very calmly picked up a new gnome and silently threw it as far and as hard as he possibly could.
Of course Harry didn't want to speak to him again, didn't want Charlie to talk to him again. It only made sense. Charlie was just a bloody guy who took advantage of him, pushed him into getting a tattoo, never even tried to get in contact with him during the year and then to top it all of, didn't even come near him after the battle. Yeah, it about figured. It was just the icing on the bloody cake.
It wasn't helped by the fractures of his family either. They were trying to pull each other together, but it could only last so long. After Bill and Fleur, Percy was the one who left next.
Three weeks after Fred's funeral, George finally snapped in his first show of emotion other than grief. A miserable and guilty Percy had hovered around in the weeks before then, unsure of his welcome and wanting desperately to somehow make amends and help. When George had yelled at him to get out of his face and leave, Percy had taken him at his word. Molly Weasley had been damn near inconsolable. Charlie had felt totally useless, and hated it. He hated not knowing how to fix it – couldn't stand the sorrow, the way that his mum sat over him or the way that she cried when she couldn't. He hated not having freedom immediately under his fingertips, the itch for flight, and he couldn't stand the echoing distance between him and Harry. So he'd left.
George left not long after Charlie, to try to bury his grief under work and to avoid the constant stop-start silences.
He learnt from Ron that he, Harry and Hermione left to Australia in a bid to try to find her parents, while Ginny, two months later from the usual start of school year, went to Hogwarts to start her 7th year. Hermione, he learned, after fruitlessly trying to find her parents in such a short amount of time, also began her 8th year after promising herself that she would retry in holidays.
Charlie himself had headed straight for Romania, but not before dropping in to see Evan and Etienne.
Spindle-Shaft lane was its usual buzzing hum of activity; even so, the war had still managed to reach it. The sweet tingle of magic is more defensive under Charlie's skin as he walks the confusing alleys – he can feel the twisting nature of it, carefully barbed and ready to turn on him. It's a marked difference from its usual subtly and he hates the war for pervading all things good.
As he walks down the cobbles, the chatter in the street was a low murmured hum and the laughter when it came was unexpected, bubbling up and then quickly stilling, as if the very noise was a shock.
Still, the sun was warm on his shoulders, shop doors thrown open to allow the sun to stream into their insides, the glass of the windows fresh and clean. It is a far cry from Diagon alley, where there are shops still shuttered and closed.
He can't quite keep the bounce from his step when he comes close to the tattoo shop. They're scrubbing the white wood veneer of the outside down, Etienne was easily visible up the tall ladder, his head of bright blue hair marking him out from the rest of the street.
Grinning broadly, Charlie hastened his pace, "Oi!" he yelled when he was close enough, giving them a wave.
Their heads turned and their smiles were wide when they saw him.
"Charlie!"
They ran to meet him, and he hugged them tightly, his grin practically splitting his face in two.
"Goddamn, it's good to see you." Etienne said as he stepped back to take a good look at him as Charlie took the chance to do the same.
The pair were a little thinner than usual; new lines had appeared in the corners of Evan's eyes and in the lines on Etienne's brow.
Evan smiled a little sheepishly, "If we look half starved, it's because the rationing was a little thin. We've only just started to fatten up."
"Rationing?"
"Yeah." Ett's said as he lead them to the upstairs flat. "Spindle-Shaft kept us safe, but we still had to go out to get food. We banded together, did runs for groceries, but we had to ration it out. Times got tough, more people came." He shrugged. "But we survived, which is the main thing."
Charlie twitched a small smile, "Yeah. That's the main thing." Spindle-Shaft has kept them safe, the war had touched them, but not broken them, and he couldn't help but be glad for it, it was two less shattered people who he didn't have to care for.
The selfishness of that thought smacked against him with sudden recrimination, and he glanced down and away, hating himself.
Evan looked at him, with sympathy and understanding, but fortunately did not mention anything, saying instead, "Did you know we've got an apprentice?"
"Oh! Yeah!" Ett's said bouncing on his toes, "Linda!" He called, "Come up here and meet our friend Charlie! Linda's the young grasshopper to our sensei."
Raising his eyebrows at them, Charlie said "You two have an apprentice? Merlin's saggy balls, I never though that it'd see the day."
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up all you want Weasley."
At that point, a mousy brown haired woman popped her head around the door.
"You bellowed?" she asked, the paused and blinked at Charlie. "Oh! Hello!"
He grinned at her, and she turned a little pink.
"Name's Charlie Weasley, Dragon Tamer and friend of these two idiots. Nice to meet you Linda." He shook her hand and grinned wider as she turned an even deeper red. Oh yeah, the Charlie Weasley charm was not completely dead, even though it had not stuck with Harry. He carefully controlled the reflexive frown at the thought. Instead, he stuck his hand in his pockets and kept a crooked smile firmly on Linda.
"So I heard you're their apprentice, how'd that happen?"
The smile slipped off Linda's face, and this time Charlie could not contain a wince. The war, of course it was the merlin damned war.
"I'm a muggle born." She explained with a twist of her mouth. "I went into hiding, but there was a gang of snatchers on the streets. One of them recognised me, I don't know how, but they did. I ran and they chased me through all the back alleys. By some dumb luck, I found spindle shaft. The lane let me in and lead them away." She smiled lightly, a nice smile for that her teeth were a little crooked. "Evan and Etienne took me in along with the rest of their strays. I found that I was pretty good at the whole piercing thing and I liked the tattooing. They kept me on as an apprentice, so here I am." She finished with a little flourishing hand motion. "I'm lucky enough to have landed on my feet."
"At least something good has come out of it." Charlie said softly, a little bitterly.
Linda shared his small smile, the bitterness matching his. "Yeah. I suppose that's one way to look at it. Anyway, I'd better get back to practise." She gave him a wave and disappeared down to the shop.
"How's Harry?" Evan interrupted eagerly. "We tried sending him an owl, but it never got through."
"Oh." Charlie blinked, "That would be the owl wards. I'll have to put you on the approved owl list."
"But is he alright?"
"Yeah. He's good. Fine." Charlie said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He hadn't spoken with Harry since the man had approached him in the garden. Hesitating, Charlie realised that his friends were still waiting for more, and he sighed as he ran a hand through his choppy short hair. "I think he's doing about as well as it can be under the circumstances. He's lost a lot. He's been through a lot."
Etienne put on hand on Evan's shoulder and reached for his partner's hand at the same time in a comforting embrace. "We all have, Charlie." Etienne said quietly. "Come on, I want a cup of coffee, you want one too?"
Smiling at his friend, Charlie was grateful for the distraction. "Put some firewhiskey in it, and I'm all yours."
The three had been talking for about half an hour when Linda stuck her head around the door.
"Sorry. Etienne, you've got your 12pm appointment. Luka Findleborn? With the half finished back piece?"
Etienne blinked at her for a minute, then swore. "Right. I'll be down in a tick, can you get him a cup of water or something and start the prep? Thanks Linda." Etienne turned his attention to Charlie. "It's going to be a long one, so I'll say goodbye now. Take care Charlie. Gives us a floo or an owl sometime." He reached over and clasped Charlie's forearm to draw him into a firm hug that Charlie returned wholeheartedly. "Safety and Peace Charlie boy. Think about some new ink once you come back next, yeah?" He gave Charlie a grin and a wink before running down the stairs to the shop.
Evan looked at Charlie for a long moment, a thoughtful expression creasing his brow and touching the corners of his mouth. "Are you okay Charlie?"
"Yeah. Fine." Charlie gave a laugh that tasted of ashes. "Fine as can be."
"Okay Char." Evan said softly, brown eyes soft and sad at the corners. "You're not. But I won't ask. Not until you want to talk about it."
Throat swelling uncomfortably, Charlie drained the last of his coffee, glad to let the rim of the mug hide his miserably open expression.
"Thanks for the coffee Evan. But I really should get going; my portkey activates at one." Charlie said, getting up out of his chair. "It was good to see you guys."
Evan nodded, getting up as well. "You too Charlie. Don't be a stranger in Romania, okay. Merlin knows, you've done it before."
Smiling involuntarily, Charlie gave Evan a hug. "I won't." He promised. "This isn't the last you'll see of me."
"Good." Evan nodded in satisfaction. "Here. Linda made some chocolate-chip pumpkin spice biscuits; they're kind of more like cookies, but then again, it's an American recipe. Take some with you, they're pretty good.
Charlie accepted the food willingly, and once he'd said his final goodbyes and was on the street, he took one out and gave it a careful nibble. The thick biscuit was soft, sweet, and melted on the tongue. Grunting with enjoyment, he finished it with gusto and licked the small bits of chocolate off his fingers. It was with a much lighter heart that he made his long way over to the dragon sanctuary.
Two port keys, one broomstick ride, one bruised side thanks to a bad landing and several hopped country boarders later; he was back where he belonged. Rippling in a pearlescent heat wave, a distinctive blue flame showed high above the tops of the pines. A far off two-tone roar echoed in the distance and Charlie grinned. That roar and those flames could only belong to Evangeline, their ten ton Swedish Short Snout. She was so beautiful when she was angry.
And speaking of beautiful when angry –
"Charlie! You miserable screw up!" It was Kata, who had come to meet him at the entrance. She ran at him and jumped on him for a hug. "I thought you'd never be back!" she aimed a punch at his side with her usual painful enthusiasm.
Charlie laughed, barely restraining the flinch at the way she hit his side.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence Kata."
She grinned at him, mock contrite, "I have plenty confidence in you, Weasley, I just have no confidence when it comes to you, alcohol, and people willing to jump into bed with a dragon-tamer." She winked at him. "There's enough of them for blonde women so I'd reckon that even a ginger bastard like you can find them."
Shoving her away with a firm yet playful hand, Charlie swore at her cheerfully. "That's what your sister thought last night in my bed."
"Oh screw you Charles! You know my sister's married."
"I know. That's why her husband was in with us."
Kata cackled. "Life just isn't the same without you."
Sliding her wand out, she levitated his trunk before her, turning smartly on her heel and expecting Charlie to follow her without question. Well used to her, he did.
"I'm off shift – and so is Kurt, Vagner, Mork and a couple of others. The rest are either on call, on shift, or not here." She said over her shoulder as she traversed the uneven, pine needle covered ground with swift ease. The scent of evergreen forests, clear air and dragon fire was strong in the air, and Charlie breathed deeply, the tight knots in his shoulders relaxing. "Let's drop your trunk off at your bunkhouse and then go get some drinks. God knows I need one, and I'm sure you do too."
Running a hand through his hair and shrugging, he said, "Do you hear me protesting?"
"I thought so." Kata said with satisfaction. "Come on, Charlie Weasley. The night waits for no one."
As promised, the little extra.
Midway through the battle: Harry.
The stone was cold in his fingers as he turned it once, twice, thrice. It was the sudden pricking up his neck that made him open his eyes to the small semicircle of spectral loved ones. Harry greeted each one in turn, their names trembling out cold lips.
"Mum. Dad." He drank in the sight of their faces, they seemed young, so damn young as they smiled at him, love and heartbreak apparent in their eyes.
"Sirus, Remus." Again the smiles, the faces of people he would never see again. Then, finally, he turned again to the fifth figure.
"Cedric."
"Hello Harry."
He'd almost forgotten the way that his name had sounded coming from Cedric and here it was that the tears nearly broke as he looked at the young man. He was now Cedric's age, Harry realised, and the tradgy of his youth was never more apparent.
He seem young, so damn young and yet, old at the same time.
"I see you've been taking care of your self." Cedric said, smile curling its way over his face.
"Yeah. I have. I've missed you." Harry confessed. Then, looking around him, said, "I've missed all of you."
The fear was a shuddering thing, trembling soft and softer.
"Does it hurt?" He asked, latching onto Sirius's gaze.
"No." Sirus said. "It's easier than falling asleep."
Harry nodded. "Will you stay with me?"
"We've always been with you Harry." His Dad said.
"And we'll always stay with you." His Mum intjected with a smile.
"Until the end." Remus said, looking younger and happier than he ever had.
"And beyond that." Sirus finished.
Finally Harry turned to Cedric. There was one more thing that he wanted to ask.
"Cedric - my tattoo..." The words fumbled in his mouth and he couldn't quite continue, but that was okay because Cedric was stepping in with a smile, brushing one sliver hand over Harry's heart.
"I have always been with you Harry. The protections in your blood mixed with your magic and memories and, well. Lets just say that i've been a little closer to you than most. Your memories, that tattoo, have kept me more alive than any mourning has. I love you Harry. We all do." Cedric stepped back smiling still and Harry's breath shook out once then firmed.
"Okay." Harry said. "Okay. I'm ready, but - stay with me?"
"Of course."
and then he was stepping forward, the vanguard of invisible spectres striding with him as he walked towards his fate.
~~~~
Thanks for reading, let me know what you liked, didn't like.
Questions, comments - they always make my day.
H.
