A/N: Fi, thanks for talking out the idea for this one with me. That's why it's here at all.
More owls. It seems like there are always more owls. These aren't bringing bad news – the worst has already happened, after all – but he still doesn't know how to handle them. She won't stop writing to him, and he doesn't know how to answer her. So he doesn't. He feeds the owls who bring him her letters, reads what she's sent him, and then stows them in the battered old desk in the corner of his room.
He doesn't expect her to keep writing. Romania is far away, after all. Maybe she'll forget about him. Maybe that would be for the best. He doesn't have time right now for anything more than his family. (He shouldn't have time for anything more than his family. He's the one who barely managed to come home for these past few years. So what does it say that he doesn't know how to be around them?)
He is wandering through the orchard one afternoon two weeks after the funeral. He can't seem to sit still these days. Sitting still means sitting in the house, and sitting in the house means being near his mother, and he can't be near his mother. He sighs. He hates himself for it, but he can't help it. He still doesn't know what to say.
He doesn't know how long he's been walking when he distantly hears someone calling his voice. He moves back in the direction of the house. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ron sitting on the ground, almost hidden by the shrubbery, and he moves faster. It couldn't be clearer that Ron doesn't want anyone to see him now.
When Charlie gets back to the Burrow, he finds Ginny standing in the doorway, and the look in her eyes confuses him. She's staring at him as if she doesn't really know him, and when he looks back at her quizzically, she motions for him to follow her inside. He does… and he stops short. Because now he understands the look in his sister's eyes.
Eleri is sitting on the couch with Molly. Charlie's mouth goes dry, and he opens it to say something, but no words will come out. She half stands when he walks in, and he almost runs to her, almost grabs her in his arms, but something stops him. It is the look in her eyes, the hurt that he knows he's inflicted. His shoulders slump, and he finds himself saying woodenly, "Mum, I see you've met Eleri."
His mother looks at him for a moment and then nods.
"We've been talking for a few minutes," she says quietly, and he knows that she can see his struggle. What he doesn't know is if she understands, if she can see just from looking at him how much Eleri means to him – and how much he wishes she didn't right now.
But it isn't long before Molly is getting to her feet and leaving them alone. And he's pretty sure then that she does understand because she touches his arm as she goes, and it takes every ounce of willpower for him not to go with her.
Once she is gone, Eleri merely watches him, and he watches her, and neither of them says a word. A few minutes pass before her comfortingly familiar husky voice asks, "Were you planning on sitting down?"
He can't say no to her. He's never been able to. He perches on the edge of the couch, just inches away from her, but there might as well be a solid brick wall between them. He rubs his hands over his knees, wondering how he could possibly break this terribly awkward silence, when she says, "I've been writing and writing, Charlie."
His ears start to grow hot. He continues to stare into his lap. When he doesn't respond, she sighs.
"I don't understand you," she continues, but while her words aren't friendly, her voice is more gentle than it really should be – than he really deserves. He doesn't know why, but he's afraid that it might have something to do with how well she knows him – which means that she also knows how very much close to the edge he is right now.
He forces himself to look at her, and he sees her pain. He feels a pang. He did this.
"I'm sorry," he says hoarsely. He looks away again, but he continues talking. "I know I haven't been fair. It's just – I've been busy around here…"
Eleri says nothing. In fact, the silence seems to grow colder, and Charlie looks up again. Her eyes have become steely.
"You think you've been the only one who has things going on in his life? Charlie, I was worried about you. I care about you. You know this. I wasn't writing to take up your time. But… well … if that's the way it seems, then maybe I should just go. I'll find a portkey. Obviously, this was a bad idea."
His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He feels desperation rising like a bubble in his chest, but he doesn't know how to fix this. Her face is red, and her brown hair is flying out behind her as she stalks to the door, and she is almost out of sight behind it when he finally speaks.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this."
Her footsteps slow. She turns halfway without really looking at him, and he knows she is trying not to cry.
"What wasn't supposed to be like this?" she asks as she pushes her voice out past the lump in her throat.
Charlie lets out a shaky breath. "This. You being here. You were supposed to come back with me, and then I would introduce you to everyone. And you'd meet the whole family."
She is looking at him now, but he can't bring himself to look all the way at her. She takes one step toward him as she asks, "Why can't you do that now? Why can't you make it the way you think it was supposed to be?"
He shakes his head, but he's staring at his feet, and he says gruffly "Because I can't. It's – it's not. It's not the way it's supposed to be."
And he knows she understands because she's walking the rest of the way to him, and then she's sitting next to him again. She takes his hand silently, and he struggles, suddenly, to blink back the tears that are stinging his eyes. He swallows hard.
"I'm ok," he tries to say, and she nods, but he knows he's not convincing either of them. A few minutes later, he finally says, "Come with me? I need – I need to introduce you to some people."
Even though Molly has already met her, Charlie brings her back into the kitchen so he can formally introduce her to his mother. He brings her to the shed so she can meet his father. He brings her to Shell Cottage to meet his older brother and sister-in-law. And she sits beside him at dinner where she meets George, Ron, Hermione, Percy, Ginny and Harry.
It is hours after dinner, when everyone else has gone to sleep, that he takes her out of the Burrow's protective charms and apparates them to the one place he keeps trying to avoid. She knows immediately where they are, and her grip on his hand tightens.
They stand before the cold grey marble, and Eleri stares straight ahead, even when she feels Charlie starting to tremble. She merely squeezes his hand, hoping to lend him the strength that he desperately needs but would never ask for. It isn't until she hears him sniffling that she finally turns to him, but he is already turning to meet her as well, and then he is burying his face in her shoulder, clutching her to him as if he never wants to let go.
"I'm sorry," he whispers into her hair. "I wanted you here. I've needed you more than anything. But you're supposed to be able to get to meet Fred. Now – now you'll never get to meet my little brother. You'll never know George how he's supposed to be. You'll never…"
His words drown in the sobs that are now wracking his body, and she rocks him and rubs his back, trying to murmur soothingly through her own tears.
She is supposed to sleep in the living room. He is supposed to sleep in his bedroom. But when Molly comes downstairs in the morning to find them intertwined in the armchair, dried tears on their cheeks, she is oddly relieved. Charlie's isolation has been another worry for these past few weeks. Maybe… maybe now he has what he needs.
A/N: This isn't the end. I do want to write a few more chapters. Please read and review. I'm more than open to ideas of where anyone wants to see this go.