Beginning Note: This story was written for the Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Facebook group's Language of Flowers Competition. My prompt was 'A Bouquet for Bitter Ends'. I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe. I want to thank my Alpha/Beta, dreamsofdramoine, for all her hard work on this story!
"I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we're from the same star." ― Emery Allen
Charlie
One brisk, late autumn day, Charlie's father returns to the family homestead bearing grim news.
While away on business in a neighbouring village, Arthur Weasley learned the unsettling fate of the youngest Greengrass daughter.
Charlie had heard the rumours. Whispers indicated that upper society shunned her. Word spread that it was due to manifesting symptoms tied to a rare hereditary blood malediction.
For some in her situation, a swift end is preferable. Her illness is a fate worse than death.
He would be lying if he said the information didn't affect him, but it was a fate Charlie would endure if it meant she would have him.
Astoria Greengrass caught Charlie's notice when she returned to the region after her educational boarding concluded at age twenty. They only interacted a nominal amount of times back then, but Charlie has been intrinsically aware of her presence ever since.
No matter how hard she tries to go unnoticed, her sun-honeyed hair and olive skin always draw his attention. She is a regular fixture on the peripherals of the expansive creature sanctuary he has cultivated on his family's lands.
Even entertaining the idea of her was impossible—until now.
Though recognised as sacred in their own rite, the Weasley family has always been looked down upon. Judgements are passed on their wealth, family size, and chosen trades. Societal norms deem Charlie unfit to marry someone as noble as Astoria Greengrass, and to have to marry below one's class is devastating in most proper women's eyes.
But this news changes everything.
It turns fate on its axis.
Charlie mounts his hippogriff at first light in an attempt to change the course of his life as he knows it.
Stopping every so often to place gentle kisses along his neck, she continues to till the soil with him in silence.
Only once the last of the petunia bulbs is in the grounddoeshe lace their dirt-stained fingers together and press them against his heart. "We may be promised to others in this life, and I hope for better—for more—in the next. But you are not yet his. Until tomorrow, you're mine."
Astoria
Strung together through lingering glances and an insatiable curiosity about his ease with creatures, Astoria's attraction to Charlie Weasley has wrapped around her heart. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine the innocent infatuation would flourish into a steadfast love.
But visions of domestic bliss are overshadowed by circumstance.
What was once a dream—doomed by age and predetermined paths—is now firmly within her grasp. However, they are destined to lead half a life compared to what she imagined for her future. Even so, Astoria looks forward to spending what time she has left with the well-respected man—exactly how long that is remains to be seen.
Their shared fate is left in the hands of uncertainty.
After he descends from the cloud-ridden sky and formally requests her hand in marriage, Charlie confides in her that he is not one for pomp affairs. Bringing his rich hazel eyes to hers, he makes it clear she will be cared for for the rest of their lives—no matter what may come.
His dedication to each of his sanctuaries is endearing, and it only proves the depth of his devotion to her when he states they will never come before her. His work will always have an important place in their lives, if she chooses to move forward with the betrothal, and he says she is always welcome at his side, any knowledge he has is hers for the taking.
Before they leave her family's estate, Astoria overhears Charlie telling her eldest sister, Daphne, that they will wed before travelling to Greece for an extended honeymoon in homage to their heritage. From there, they will continue on to a dragon sanctuary in Romania for business mixed with pleasure.
It may not be the height of traditional romance, but for Astoria, it will be perfect. A dream filled with adventure.
Her mind races thinking about tending to dragons and assisting with rehabilitating other creatures still under his purview. It is leaps and bounds more advanced than what she has done during her time in Scotland, and frightening for certain, but her excitement grows as she pictures herself at the dragon reserve Charlie founded as a young man.
The details of their wedding are still undecided, but they agree on a small ceremony on the Weasley land on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole. The guest list will be significantly shorter than under any other condition.
But she doesn't mind.
Charlie is everything Astoria could have asked for in a partner. The man she has grown to love over this lifetime in secret is sure they will have everything they could want—together.
Brow furrowed, horror flashes across his face as he realises what she's done. "What sins have I bestowed upon you to deserve this? We've only just met."
"The absinthiumhallucinations should keep you sated until your final breath. Really, I've heard it's similar to a dreamlike state." Her eyes flick to him as she methodically places the offending ingredients in her satchel, ready to flee back to her life in Greece. "In another life, you'll thank me," she mutters so quietly she doubts he can hear.
With a final lingering glance, she slips out the door. The last thing she hears is the clattering of the tampered pipe.
Later, his youngest brother finds him with only the scattered black ashes as evidence of her actions.
Astoria
As they step through the Floo, they are encompassed with well wishes and congratulations on the betrothal from a never-ending stream of Weasleys.
It doesn't take long for Astoria to come to terms with the fact the sophisticated etiquette ingrained in her since birth will be of little use to her here. To find her bearings in this new life, especially after Charlie introduces her to his large family, will be well earned. Their boisterous nature and untamed dynamics leave her shaken—completely unsure of how and where and when it could transpire.
Sensing the overwhelming gravity of Astoria's acclimation, he leads her away from the commotion and a fair distance through the fields of yellow tansy surrounding his cottage.
His home is a fair distance from the main property he has lovingly referred to as the Burrow. Surprisingly, it is uncluttered and well-decorated; a far cry from the eclectic multi-story behind them in the distance.
Definitely not what she would have expected of a bachelor, no matter how close his mother lives. It smells faintly of balsam—a scent she has already come to associate with Charlie—and no wonder considering the wildflowers seem to bloom only near his portion of the property.
"This may not be the life you were meant to lead, Astoria, but I promise you I am resolved to ensure your comfort. I will tend to you during the daylight hours when I am not working, and stay in the main house each night."
"Oh." Any feelings of uncertainty regarding his intentions and views on propriety vanish. "I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness on the matter."
A charming grin takes hold on his weatherworn face, and he declares, "I will wait however long you need before we are bonded… unless you ask me to return before then."
Running his finger through the pale coat of the generally standoffish feline, the young boy coos,
"Asteri mu."
On rare days, when no one else is around, she pads over from sunning in the wild thistlepatch where she finds refuge and lies on the porch to watch him play.
A small exception to her misanthropy to indulge in the nearness they find mutually enjoyable.
Astoria
On an unusually warm winter morning, Astoria opens the cottage door to the chipper matriarch and drops into a small curtsy. "Good morning, Molly. What brings you to me today?"
"You may not be married yet, but you are already family." She is barely over the threshold before she begins to wave her off. "No need with that nonsense, dear."
As they cross the room to the small sitting area Astoria has become fond of for entertaining, Molly continues, "I know you've asked for little during this process, and I'm so sorry that your parents have left you in this situation. But I love that you've grown to love our Charlie. I've known it since you used to sneak into the fields and watch him tend to the creatures."
Sucking in a sharp breath, Astoria fumbles as she prepares the tea service. "I—"
"Charlie has been well-versed in magical flora and fauna since he was a boy," Molly says, barreling on as she leans forward to take the proffered tea and inhales the floral scent. "He was always deeply satisfied being alone. My boy has never shown interest in men, women, or matrimony until Arthur returned with the news of your… situation. I don't think he would have chosen anyone if it wasn't you. We're so very lucky—he's so very lucky—that he has found his way to you."
Over the past few months, Molly's ability to bring Astoria under her wing with ease speaks volumes of someone who has married off a substantial amount of her brood. Her recognition of Astoria's needs while harmonising the many personalities of the ever-growing extended family has left Astoria content in her new routines.
For the first time, Astoria broaches the topic of planning their upcoming spring nuptials. As Molly stands to leave for the afternoon, she gives Astoria every assurance that it is their day and everything she wants—within particular means, of course—will be incorporated.
True to her word, and with shared input from Charlie, they choose a date, select flowers that pair with the colour palette, decor, and tackle every detail together.
"I don't know how many more times I can do this, my love. You know I'll love you in a thousand lifetimes and have loved you in multitudes before, but how many times must we—you—live the same fate in hopes of a different outcome?"
"I—I mustcontinue", she chokes out, fumbling to chop the daturapetals scattered across their workstation, her body wracked with sobs. "We will get it right one day. One of these times, the potion won't be for nought, and I will no longer be a burden."
His presence at her back and muscular arms anchor her to the task at hand. "We'll get it right."
"They'll be free. It's worth every risk—even death."
Astoria
When Astoria first arrived, she came with little more than a small set of luggage. On the eve of their wedding, she removes the small parcel her mother had passed to her in a hurry as she packed up and left the only home she had ever known.
She unfurls the parchment tucked inside to find her mother's elegant script.
I wish I could be there with you on your special day, but it's my hope that you will carry this bouquet. It has been passed down through many generations. Each flower has been placed in stasis, representing significant turning points in our family's history, moving through various sacred twenty-eight estates.
I am so sorry, my dear. This was never what I wanted for you.
Tears prick her eyes, and she can't hold back as they begin to fall. Her mother knew it would be the last time they saw one another, even if she hadn't said anything.
The letter punctuates the sad reality that this is the only tie she has left of her family as she enters into a new chapter in her life… alone.
While her father, Florian Greengrass, has never been a spiteful man, he was always very staunch regarding the image the family projected and how they were perceived. He made it very clear in their last correspondence that, given the long line of unexplained deaths within their lineage, marrying into the Weasley family was enough of a tarnish on the family. There was no way they'd stoop so low as to attend a backyard wedding put on in the middle of nowhere. His attempts to throw money at the affair were quickly rebuffed by the family matriarch as well as her betrothed.
A strong calloused hand jolts her from her distraught state. Charlie lifts her into his arms. Carrying her to the loo, he places her just inside. Only then does she notice the freshly drawn bath. She works to school her surprise, but Charlie's satisfied hum as he turns to leave without a word tells her she failed.
From her place in the water, she has the perfect view of a shirtless Charlie working side by side with his mother to place the final touches on the gazebo he built in the small clearing outside the cottage.
"One last time, my love," he murmurs in her ear. "We'll do it one last time."
Pulling taut on the twinerestraints keeping her sated limbs bound to his bedposts, she whimpers when he picks up his pace. Only when she comes undone—again—at his ministrations does he relent.
Charlie
Charlie is confident her slight delay is tied to his surprise for Astoria—Daphne.
Her arrival early this morning, after much planning shrouded in secrecy, was an emotional affair for both sisters.
As he waits for Astoria at the end of the makeshift aisle, Charlie thinks of the note he left her before slipping out of the cottage that morning. It was quick and hasty; a message in place of the conversation he hoped to have, but his bride's distress took priority and required a tactical pivot.
Tomorrow during the ceremony, we will be handfasted with this twine. It has been used in Prewitt weddings for generations. I know you have formed a relationship with my mother these past months, and I ask you to please consider incorporating this twine into your bouquet. It would mean a great deal to her.
Eternally yours,
Charlie
It only takes a few minutes for the chatters in the audience to die down as Daphne is escorted to her seat by his brothers Fred and George.
Charlie's emotions run unchecked when Astoria appears at the end of the aisle.
Her waist-length hair is in plaits, and she carries the bouquet from last night. Though now, it contains the same fresh tansy from the fields that makes up the flower crown adorning her head.
When she finally reaches the end of the aisle, he watches her carefully untie the twine holding her bouquet together and hand it to the officiant.
Taking her much smaller wrist in his, he shifts closer to her. Outside of innocuous touches, Charlie has done his best to respect her wishes for propriety, so when she grabs his wrist, a shiver wracks his body.
As the twine wraps around their wrists, it begins to glow before the ties are secured. A low murmur rolls through the crowd at the unusual display.
Once they finish reciting their vows, Charlie's eyes snap shut as he is overtaken by a bombardment of images beginning to flow.
The gasp that drops from her lips is all it takes for him to tighten his grip, knowing she is experiencing this, too.
Bits and pieces of past lives spliced together.
Hate and regret.
Yearning and loss.
Lives cut short—intentionally and not.
Warm hands and slick bodies.
When the memories begin to slow, he is left with an understanding of everything they've gone through to get to this moment.
All the choices they've made respectively. Hard decisions they've reached. Missed connections in other lives.
They may not have been Charlie or Astoria, but it has always been him and her.
The officiant clearing his throat jars them back to reality. At that moment, Charlie feels their bond solidify, but not before something else in Astoria restores.
She reaches up with her free hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, and the intense shift in the newly bonded couple is not lost on anyone. When the ceremony comes to a close, the tension between the previously measured duo is palpable as they walk arm in arm back up the aisle as husband and wife.
A change is apparent in the way they move as one, mirroring each other's movements. They can barely keep their hands off of one another.
The reception is a simple affair. Once their guests are seated, Charlie rises to his feet, drawing the attention of everyone in attendance. One hand is still firmly locked with Astoria's when he uses the other to raise his firewhisky in a toast.
His eyes meet Astoria's, and the full force of knowledge that this lifetime will not be shrouded in sadness nor cut short steals his breath.
They will finally get to live.
Fully and without abandon.
"I'd like to make a toast." Charlie never takes his eyes off of his wife. "To all the bitter ends we've endured in every life and then some, let this be our best life. The greatest love story ever told."
Fin.
This fic was inspired by the visual poem 25 Lives by Tongari: s2b2 . LiveJournal . com / 142934 . html