Cathect: to invest emotion or feeling in an idea, object, or another person.

August 2, 1997

"One, Two, Three!"

Seven wands rose at the same time, and the crumpled heap of canvas rose like a cloud ten feet above their heads.

"To the North!"

It drifted sideways, rolling itself up into a neat bundle and came to settle on the grass to await a pickup that may never come. Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, George, and Molly all looked somberly at the ruin underneath. Chairs and tables had been reduced to splinters, goblets and plates smashed to powder. A few discarded shoes and scarves and hats lay forlornly where they'd been dropped.

"C'est de Maman," Fleur murmured, tugging at a half-burned shawl.

"We'll send it to her," Bill promised, putting his arms around her. "I'm glad they got out before… wouldn't have wanted Gabrielle around for that."

Fleur shuddered and buried her face in his chest.

"And you're quite sure Ron and the others aren't –" Charlie began, looking at the rubble as if he might be sick.

"They're fine," Arthur said quietly and there was finality in his voice.

There was a heavy silence. Then Fred said, "I suppose we'd better get rid of this junk, then."

They'd lifted their wands again and were about to vanish the rubble when Mrs. Weasley cried, "Wait!"

"What is it?" Arthur asked, panicked.

Molly had dived forward, picking her way through the rubble and tripping onto all fours several times. Her husband, sons, and daughter-in-law watched her with confusion and concern until she reached the remains of an overturned table and shoved it aside. Underneath it was a small carnation that had once been a centerpiece. It lay bedraggled in a small mound of dirt that had spilled from its shattered pot, but it still had blooms and leaves clinging to it.

Tenderly, Molly lifted the plant from the debris and cradled it in her arms. Charlie waded out to help her out of the rubble.

"The thing's barely alive, Mum," he said, peering at the plant.

"Hush," Molly told him, gently fingering a bloom. "It's still got some hope."

Back at the house, Molly set to work repotting the carnation, binding it's bent stalk and drooping flowers. Behind her, Bill and Charlie were arguing.

"We haven't heard back from them at all," Charlie said in a low voice. "How do we even know they're still –"

"I saw them leave," Ginny piped up from the table where she was nursing a mug of tea.

The boys looked cautiously at her, obviously having forgotten she was there. They lowered their voices.

"Dad told them not to contact us because we're being watched," Bill said quietly.

"I still think someone ought to at least go looking."

"Where? Where would you look Charlie? You don't understand – they've been planning to leave for weeks. That's how it works around here – the three of them slip off. They take care of themselves."

Charlie looked up angrily from the suitcase he was folding his dressrobes into. "Are you saying something, Bill? Like I don't understand how my own family works anymore?"

Bill stared pointedly at the suitcase he was packing. "Better hurry, or you'll miss your portkey."

Molly heard him leave the kitchen. She carefully tipped the basin she'd been mixing potions in and poured three drops into the plant's soil.

Charlie didn't leave that evening. He'd meant to, but something held him back. Whether it was Bill's words or the hooded figures still watching from across the lane, he wouldn't say, but he was still sitting at the kitchen table at nine o'clock that night when Molly came in to check on her carnation.

He didn't look up at her footsteps, but when she gave a cry and dashed across the room as if something were on fire, he leapt from his chair.

"What is it? Mum, are you alright?"

"No, no, no, it was supposed to make it better!" she said in panic.

Coming closer, Charlie saw that the plant had gone from wilting to crumbling. The stem was nearly broke in half, and when his mother touched a gentle finger to its bloom, petals spilled off like a spatter of blood.

"That's too bad," Charlie said, always one to feel the loss of a living thing, no matter how small. "But it didn't have high chances from the off."

Molly didn't seem to hear. She was muttering to herself, grabbing potions and bags of ingredients and sprinkling them into the soil.

"No, you're supposed to come back," she ordered the plant, but even as she worked, the bloom dropped off completely. The leaves fell. The stalk crumbled.

"NO!" she screamed, and tears began to flood down her face.

"Mum!" Charlie exclaimed, taking her in his arms and rocking her gently as she sobbed into his shirt. "It's just a plant," he tried to rationalize. "I'll get you a new one, alright?"

"But – b-but I d-d-didn't even get t-to say g-g-goodbye," she wailed, shuddering with tears.

"It's just a plant," Charlie repeated, trying to make her understand this simple fact. "I mean, I'm sure it knows you tried your best, but –"

"But he's my baby," she was sobbing, whispering between ragged breaths. "He's my baby boy and I – I didn't get to – say good-b-bye."

Charlie had never seen his mother cry this hard before. He had been at his uncles' funeral, sat beside her when Bill had left for school, listened to her through the fire when she'd told him about his father being attacked and in St. Mungo's. But he had never seen her cry like this.

Maybe Bill was right, just a little bit. There were things about his family he didn't understand as quickly as he used to be able to. His youngest brother had vanished during an attack and no one was bothering to find him because there was no point. If it would make a difference, his mother would not be sobbing in his arms right now. She would be looking for Ron and bringing him home.

They did not know if he was okay, where he was or when he'd be back, and they all understood what Charlie did not: it was always going to be like this, and all they could do was wait.

A/N: Two chapters for you, an extra-long one to make of for the last two short ones. There's been a lot of '97 around early August, hasn't there? The year and the one after it just draw me. The dynamics of this particular chapter intrigue me and it's hard to find stories about them, so… I gave it a shot. Hope you liked it.