I just want to apologize ahead of time for any undue delays in updates, or if my writing is not up to par. I just found out I have whooping cough, and have had it for a few weeks. That mixed with finals this past week, followed by moving six hours back home for the summer has left me feeling less than great. I wanted to put a chapter up for you guys though and try and keep things moving, so here it is. :)

Chapter 22

Charlie stared at his bedroom ceiling, his hand tucked comfortably beneath his head. His eyes darted down to focus on the witch curled against his chest, repeating the process he'd fallen into in the past few hours. Her bare curves were pressed enticingly against him. He ran his slightly calloused hand along her shoulder and upper arm affectionately, content to have the woman he'd undoubtedly, and quite unwittingly, fallen in love with. He shook his head and smiled at himself. All if the signs had been there, he was just too stupid to realize it before things got a little… out of hand.

FLASHBACK

Charlie, barely even 13 yet, sat across from Darin MacDowell, his mother's great uncle. He had the classic red hair that ran rampant on both sides of the family, and a thick Scotch brogue and ancient Scottish mannerisms unique to him. They were both quiet, studying the wizarding chess game they were deeply involved in. Charlie carefully move his piece, barely blinking when it thoroughly annihilated his distant relative's piece. Darin nodded in approval of Charlie's clever move.

The rest of the family didn't understand their unusual friendship. Darin was usually difficult to get along with. He was surly, crotchety and sometimes short tempered. But then again, none of them shared the same overwhelming magical power these two did. Their friendship was one of understanding. Both had magic off the charts. Charlie was almost as powerful as Darin, and he still had a lot of growing to do. Furthermore, both worked their asses off to mask and control his magic. MacDowell did it out of habit; it was an old necessity as an old ghost spy Auror. Charlie did it out of… personal preference of lifestyle.

"You've gotten good," MacDowell murmured, referring both to the game and Charlie's control. Both of which he'd been helping the second eldest Weasley with for the past few years. Charlie nodded warmed by his distant relative's rarely given praise. "But you've still got a long way to go. Your magic is still growing. It's important your control grows with it… faster than it."

"Yes sir," Charlie murmured, already very familiar with the lecture. Their game continued steadily as they spoke. "And used to having it torn from you." MacDowell added, catching Charlie's full attention.

"Sir?" Charlie looked at his great-great uncle questioningly.

"You're old enough now… one day Charlie, your control just may be torn away from you/ It may happen suddenly… or it may sneak up on you, a little at a time." There was a pause as they continued their game.

"How could someone steal it… we've been over every possible way to control or breech another's mind or freedom. I've gotten good… and I'll get better with practice." Charlie countered.

"The opponent won't be external Charlie… it'll be you. One day, I'm sure, you'll fall in love. Not just cutesy puppy love either." MacDowell growled in borderline contempt. "I mean true, jump up and bite you in the ass, soul shaking love. That my boy will steal every fiber of your entire being. If you don't learn to recognize the signs of it, the effects could be extremely unpredictable.

"What makes you so sure that'll ever happen?" Charlie demanded in true teen fashion.

"Trust me lad, it will." MacDowell cast a glance to his wife of over 60 years in the garden. "It happened to me." Charlie looked over at his great-great aunt as though he'd never seen her before. "Checkmate." MacDowell sat back and gulped down the rest of his firewhiskey, regarding the shocked boy in front of him affectionately.

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