Chapter Four
Notes: I am desperately looking for a beta. Desperately. Please, please, please, if you think you can help, send me a message on my profile.
* * *
Dawn was hiding in her room. She was sitting on the closed toilet seat, as far away from the door as possible in an attempt to claim ignorance if anyone came knocking on the door. Anyone being Ian. Goddess, Tash had been right. She'd thought her daughter was just being mean but after Ian's invitation out to dinner tomorrow evening, which Dawn not so gracefully turned down, it was clear that he had very un-platonic feelings if the hand he had on the small of her back was any indication.
She was just as angry at herself as she was annoyed at Ian for making things awkward. Why did things have to change? Things had been good. They'd worked well together but Dawn wasn't sure that could go on much longer. Possibly. Maybe. Probably. She scolded herself for not seeing the signs. "Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She dragged her fingers through her hair restlessly. She needed Tash to bounce ideas off. No matter how much sarcasm spewed from her mouth, her daughter tended to have good ideas. Or bad ideas with good intentions. Or mischievous ideas with semi-good intentions. Dawn could almost hear her in her head.
"Mom, get it together. Just go out there and act like nothing happens. If he tries anything, just sock him one like Aunt Faith taught you." Yes, because Buffy was too scared to rough up her baby sister to teach her self-defense. Big sister had admitted it and gave her permission to go to Faith. Dawn almost laughed at that. Like she needed permission. Her sister was still acting like she was the one in charge. Dawn was in charge of herself, thank you very much.
A knock on her door made her whimper. He'd found her. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
"Who is it?" Dawn cursed herself for the squeaky tone to her voice. She'd faced down Hell Goddesses with more guts than this. What happened in the twenty one years since Glory? She thought she saw her spine slithering away under the bed.
"Dawn? It's me." Dawn frowned. The voice, while Scottish, was not Ian's but familiar at the same time. Curiousity got the best of her and she abandoned her hiding place to peek through the eyehole the hotel had generously granted her. It was less help than she liked; it was like looking through a fishbowl.
"Well, as glad as I am to see you, it'd be nice to have a name."
"Surely I haven't grown that old. Don't you know an old Keeper when you see one?"
Dawn gasped and threw open the door only to be swept up and spun around. The burly man spun her in circles and placed her gently on the floor, grinning all the while.
"Dawnie," Oliver Wood said in that delicious brogue of his.
"Ollie! Oh my Goddess, how did you know I was here? It's been ages. Wow, you still haven't lost any of that muscle, have you?" Dawn squeezed his bicep experimentally and grinned. "Nope, still the manly man I knew and loved. What have you been doing with yourself? Oh, it's so good to see you." Dawn hugged the first real reminder of England in sometime.
Oliver laughed. "One question at a time, woman. I live nearby and I came to check out the excavation on a favour to Percy. You know how Muggles are. I heard your name bantered about and decided to drop in."
"Percy?" Dawn gaped. "Charlie's brother, Percy?" The last she'd heard Percy had been a 'right tosser' and not really in the good books of anyone outside of his boss.
"He'd mellowed out quite a bit before Penelope..." Oliver trailed off uncomfortably.
"Penelope? Fiancee Penelope? Ollie, what happened?"
"She got sick, Dawnie. She wasted away in front of his eyes for years. She just gave up when Lucy would've been, oh, six or so. Pippa was only just eight."
Dawn felt badly for Percy. Him and Penelope had been off and on for years since Hogwarts and she'd been proud of him when he'd gathered up the courage to finally propose. It had been a long engagement but that was generally because they could never decide on plans for the wedding. Penny had been the only one to bring out the fire in old Perce.
"They had kids?"
"Two girls, Phillipa and Lucy."
Dawn smiled sadly. "Poor Perce."
"He's all right. He's not quite the same but no one's really complaining." Dawn smiled genuinely. She didn't think anyone would miss the old Percy. "You know, no one ever really explained to me what happened between you and Charlie-boy. One day you two were happily living in the UK and the next you went off back to the US and he left for Romania."
Dawn shook her head. "I don't think even we knew. I think it just built and built and exploded and we went our separate ways. They almost took Tash from me. Charlie wanted to give me both girls but they wouldn't let him. Choosing which girl to take and which one to leave was the hardest thing I've ever done."
Oliver pulled her back into a hug which Dawn reciprocated gratefully. "It's all right. I'm sure you've done a bang-up job. You'd be proud of Sanna. She's just like her mum. All fiery and full of words."
"Thank you, Ollie. Anyway, enough of that. You still haven't told me what you've done with yourself all these years."
Oliver just grinned. "You mean you haven't been keeping up to date with Quidditch?"
Dawn looked ashamed. "Not in England. I've followed little bits through Tash, whose a massive Fitchburg Finches fan by the way, but never really got into it. You know I'm not that great on a broom. I have a recollection of you trying to teach me. I almost fell twenty feet before you caught me."
"Well, you could say I've been doing a bit more catching since then. I was playing Keeper for the Montrose Magpies after Puddlemere chose a first year reserve for Keeper instead of me. Now I'm the coach."
"The Magpies? Oh Ollie, you chose my favourite team. It's Puddlemere's loss. Though I always did like The Prides' colours."
"Purple and yellow? Really? Dawnie, I expected better from you." Dawn playfully stuck her tongue out. Oliver made a grab for her and Dawn squealed and ran, Oliver giving chase. It went on for quite a while, Dawn jumping over her bed and scrambling all around the place. It wasn't a big room but she'd managed to stay away from Oliver's grasping hands. They forgot that they were both supposed to be mature adults, much too old for running around but neither could find it within themselves to care.
That is until another Scottish voice came uncertainly from the door. "Dawn?"
She stopped dead in her tracks, causing Oliver to bowl into her and send them sprawling to the floor. From under Oliver, Dawn poked her head out and smiled cheerily up at Ian Deargal, the very man she'd been avoiding for the last three hours. "Hi Ian. What's up?"
"I heard you squealing. I came to see if you were all right." Ian seemed unsure what to make of the situation. He looked to be somewhere between surprise, outrage and disappointment. She was sure the outrage was for her being caught in a compromising position but she didn't care. Oliver looked up and nodded jollily at Ian.
"Hello there. Suppose you wouldn't want to help a fellow up, would you?" Ian's good manners kicked in and pulled Oliver off Dawn as quickly as he could, taking his time in helping Dawn to her feet. Oliver saw the distress in Dawn's eyes and stepped in. "Sorry to interrupt but Dawn and me were just going out to grab a bit of dinner. I'm sure you can spare her for a few hours."
Ian's eyes flickered between them and Dawn felt a little bad for him. It wasn't his fault that he was completely not her type. "Sorry to spring this on you, Ian. We can reschedule if you want. I know you were hoping to go over those translations with me."
"No, no," Ian waved his hand, a small smile diminishing the sad look on his face. "You go on ahead. There's plenty of hours in the day tomorrow. The dig isn't going anywhere. Have a nice night."
Dawn smiled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you." He just smiled and left, leaving Dawn feeling more than a little guilty.
"So, where are we going?" She asked cheerily to try and shake off the pangs of her conscience.
Oliver sighed over exaggeratedly and said, "Oh, I suppose I actually have to take you out now. Well, grab your bag and let's go."
"But-" Dawn began to protest.
"I'll wait downstairs, then shall I?" Dawn grinned and pushed him out the door.
"Give me ten minutes."
"I'll just go grab a coffee. You can find me."
* * *
It was quiet at the Eyrie, as Sanna called their little house, without the teenager to liven the place up. Charlie was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and desperately trying to go to sleep. It was hard not having her around. He didn't think he would've stayed sane without her all these years by himself. His little dragon, the highest point in his entire life. Almost on par with... he rolled on his side, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. He was alone without anything to distract him. It wouldn't do to have his thoughts stuck on Dawn Weas... Summers. She was Summers.
He growled and ran his hands through his hair. It had gotten easier as the years passed but she certainly was unforgettable, that one. Fiery as all hell and legs that went on forever... he threw himself bodily out of bed, coming to his feet and padded towards the bathroom, hitching up his pyjama pants. He stared in the mirror and was shocked to see the unkempt creature that stared back. Stubble which was at least three days old, red eyes and he was fairly sure he smelt like a pile of dragon dung. If glares could kill, he'd have committed suicide through self-disgust. It was almost pathetic.
Charlie tore himself away, muttering with frustration. He stalked towards the kitchen and ransacked the bookshelf, looking for the secret catch. He knew Sanna had found it years ago, the entire reason he'd installed it in the first place but it was habit. Besides, he didn't think she knew that he knew. That statement was a little confusing and he was glad when his fingers caught the latch and he pushed a couple of dragon reference books aside to reach behind the bookcase and pull out an old bottle of Ogden's Best Firewhiskey. He cracked the seal and threw back a mouthful, swearing as it burnt down his throat.
"Drinking alone? That's a bit sad, little brother." Charlie laughed, amazed he hadn't heard the Floo. Bill reached around and took a swig of the bottle, mimicking Charlie's swear from moments before.
"Shouldn't you be with Fleur and the kids?"
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Fair call." Charlie took another swallow, slower this time but no less potent.
"I'd almost forgotten about last year. Just be glad I remembered today and not next week. I'd prefer if my brother wasn't passed out starkers on his kitchen table when I bring Victoire over to borrow some of Sanna's clothes again." Charlie flipped his brother the bird and sat down heavily at the previously mentioned table.
"Come on, let's finish what we started. Let's get soused off our faces like we used to before we got ourselves into this whole domestic rut."
Bill laughed and Accio'ed two glasses from the kitchen. "To the women. You can't live with them and you can't live without them," he poured and then held the glass up to Charlie for a toast.
Charlie smirked, and clinked his glass against his brother's. "To our girls. Merlin hope they stay ours for a little while longer."
The fire flared green and, unbeknownst to them, two men stepped out, amused at the scene. Harry and Ron looked at each other before sitting down on either side of the pair, Ron pulling another bottle out of his cloak. "Getting shit-faced without your little Sanna, I see."
"I'm surprised Hermione and Pansy let you two off your leashes. Do they have whistles only you can hear too?" Charlie mocked.
"Hey now," Ron said. "If you don't want my Firewhiskey, we'll just go find somewhere else to drink." He went to stand but Charlie waved him back down.
"Don't be daft, Ronald." Charlie's world was already spinning and he realised that in between the dialogue, he'd already finished three shots and started in on his fourth, on top of all the informal swigging before Bill had the manners to get glasses. "Your alcohol is always welcome here."
Harry laughed and Accio'ed two more glasses from the kitchen. He poured and tilted his glass in the direction of the other men. The four of them threw back their shots and shuddered, Charlie and Bill less so, the effect almost completely nullified by the Firewhiskey they'd already had.
The two bottles didn't last very long, but then again, neither did the four of them. Nor did the old bottle of wine Charlie found... or the two bottles of Muggle bourbon that one of them had managed to acquire.
Ginny found them all the next morning, passed out on the various surfaces that Charlie's house provided. At some point during the night, the couch had been moved from the living room to the middle of the kitchen and Harry, Charlie and Bill were currently all snuggled up on it while Ron was sprawled across the kitchen table, mirroring Charlie a year ago. She stood, surveying the disaster scene, hands perched imperiously on her hips. The smirk on her lips was completely unexpected and if Ron had been conscious, he would have commented on how much more like a Malfoy she'd become.
She went to rummage through Charlie's room and managed to find a camera Sanna had given him last year at Christmas that he'd never used. She snapped a few photos for future blackmail purposes, shrunk the camera and went about waking them up, Weasley style.
The men never knew what hit them.
* * *
Charlie rested his head softly on the now Scourgified table, after shooing a still slightly tipsy Ron and Bill off through the Floo. He'd double-checked that they'd made it home in one piece and proceeded to start the process of self-pity that came with a hangover. He chuckled at the memory of Harry once Ginny had been done waking them up. The famous wizard blinked, took a second to register the youngest Weasley-now-Malfoy and blanched. Ginny had taken pity on him and Side-Apparated him home to face Pansy. Who would have thought that the man who had successfully vapourised Voldemort would pale at the thought of an angry wife? Granted, Pansy Potter was a bit of a pit viper and pregnant on top of it.
After a moment of blissful silence, Charlie hauled himself up and began disposing of the evidence of last night, throwing out the empty bottles and returning the couch to its rightful place in the living room after using several cleaning charms on it just in case. He put the glasses in the sink to clean later, grabbing a Hangover Potion and disappeared to have a shower and shave. Time to start another day without Sanna.
His eyes narrowed as he thought. He was sick of feeling sorry for himself. It was time to do something about it.