Charlie's head felt very loud but wordless. There was a feeling of commotion and it took his brain too long to translate the sounds into sentences.

And then sentences into multiple siblings.

Perhaps if he stayed very still, they might drift away and let him get back to that much needed nap…

"The doctor said only a couple of visitors at a time. I can't imagine this is good for his recovery."

"Well, Percy, why don't you eff off then and give us all a bit of breathing space."

"Ron, you might be here on Auror duty, but as the third eldest and most senior Ministry official-"

"Percy, please, you're putting me into a coma."

Unfortunately it was Ginny's words that caused Charlie's mouth to quirk up into a smile and the present Weasleys to descend into a hush.

"He's awake," Ron whispered, self-evidently.

"No," Charlie replied, squinting his eyes against the brightness of the room and the five luminously red heads in front of him. "I'm not."

Bill chuckled to his right and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. The relief at seeing all his siblings in one place, alive, washed over him like a balm.

"How are you feeling?" Bill asked.

Well, Charlie's leg ached and had an unsettling, if familiar, pins and needles feeling that he recognised as muscles growing back at an expedited rate.

The ceiling of St Mungo's was unfortunately familiar, too. Pale marble strung through with bright faelights. Rearing dragons, Quidditch and being a young devil-may-care tended to require the occasional trip here to mend dragon burns and other magical mayhem. Not to mention the splinching incident.

"Groggy, but okay. How is she - Pansy?"

An awkward silence rippled through his brothers, which Bill kindly stepped into answer.

"She's… okay. I don't know too much, but she took in a lot more poison than you did, and unlike you, her body isn't quite so used to metabolising it. The healers say it's going to be a few days yet until she wakes up, but she will wake up."

And probably wake as jolly as a hibernating dragon.

Charlie gave a long sigh, the nausea in his stomach lessening slightly.

"Can I see her?"

"It's only family, for the moment," Bill said gently. Charlie's stomach tensed again - what family? "And you need to rest that leg for a little while longer. You're re-growing quite a bit of it."

"Nothing I'm not used to. How are you all doing?"

From the end of the bed Ginny gave him an unforgiving glare. It was the look she used when she lost at Quidditch or when Harry was endangering himself in some way. She was tough as old boots, but her sharp displeasure often gave away her upset.

"Smashing," she replied coolly. "Best Christmas yet."

Sensing the unease in the room, Bill coughed "Yunno, Percy's right - there's far too many of us in here. Let's go tell Mum and Dad you're awake and come see you in a bit."

Charlie shot him a glum grin. Each Weasley gave him a solid pat before exiting. Ron thoughtlessly landed his on the wounded leg and Ginny aimed a blunt one to his shoulder, followed by a quick kiss on his cheek and a mutter of "Glad you're alright, you dickhead" which made Charlie laugh, despite the circumstances.

Charlie's heart felt full seeing them, though it took a lot of self-control not to ease out a sigh as they left one by one - all but George, who leant on the bed, unsmiling.

"You sure you're alright, mate?"

"I think so. Feel as if a manticore tried to steal a limb from me."

"Yeah, funny that," his brother replied with a distinct lack of humour. Charlie frowned. This felt un-George. He was usually the first to find any of Charlie's reckless behaviour more hysterical than frightening.

"Where's Mum?"

The usual tradition of waking up in St Mungo's was with Mrs Weasley six inches from his face looking two parts relieved, three parts incensed.

"We thought you might rouse soon. You were… mumbling something. So I encouraged her and Dad to grab a coffee so we could have a word. Couldn't get the rest of them to leave though."

Charlie grinned. "Going to tell me off are you, Georgie?"

At this, there was almost a whisper of a smile on his face. The tiredness that George had carried since the death hadn't left. Not in a way anyone else would notice. The twins had shone so bright that now one was at half mast, George still seemed like he had the health and happiness of an average man. Just not one of an average George.

"Fuck, Charlie," he whispered. "I shouldn't be the one having to tell you this. I should be the last person telling you this."

"Telling me what? Is Pansy okay? Bill-"

"Has that witch enchanted you or something? You've known this girl a spell, mate. You weren't even at school at the same time. The person you should be thinking about is Mum and Dad and your brothers and your sister. Everyone's done their stint here watching your leg getting straightened out. Everyone's heard the pieced together story from Harry and Hermione, and we still don't have the whole picture. Everyone's… worried about whether you'd wake up again-"

"It's a flesh wound-"

"Yeah, a flesh wound you got from a venomous, buggy lion-woman. You were trained to work with dragons and even that worries Mum to bits. You weren't trained to follow some Voldemort-loving lunatic into a bloody house party of more Voldemort-loving lunatics and get stuck in the crossfire with mythical beasts. What were you honestly thinking? Mum didn't have seven kids so there'd be spares. Isn't one… Wasn't Fred enough?"

To their joint horror, tears began flowing down George's face as his words stuttered to a choke. He gripped the side of the bed in a tight, white fist, and made to go - before Charlie reached out his arm and brought him into an embrace.

His little brother's silent, shaking weeping went through him like a knife. Charlie felt his own grief open and spill out like a dam, though he wouldn't let it break - not in front of George. Not when he was the one who needed to be held together.

"I miss him so much, George." Charlie said after a deep breath. "I blame everyone for his death. Everyone. Us for getting mixed up in the whole thing. Fucking Rookwood who murdered him. Those who helped and abetted Tom Riddle. I blame me for not being in the right place at the right time. We should have all stuck together and looked after each other, even though that battle was so confusing and…"

And they would have lost each other anyway. Each Weasley would have run to where they were most needed, no matter the cost to themselves.

"Even if Fred had known what was going to happen to him, he wouldn't have changed his mind about being there. If we had our way, each of us would have fought while the family ran. But that's not how Weaselys seem to be built."
George was quiet moment before gently shrugging Charlie off, not hiding his tears. He didn't speak for a long time.

"What about Percy?"

"No one has an explanation for Percy. I think Mum had an affair with a stapler."

Begrudgingly, George gave him a broken smile.

"I'm telling her you said that. And he's definitely the love child between her and one of Dad's Muggle Filofaxes."

"Either way… my point is we always want to be there to do what's right. Whether its Dad sympathising over Muggles to the extent he owns multiple enchanted radiators or Ron befriending possibly the most dangerous boy at school. I wasn't risking my life for the sake of it." At least not in this time. "Going after Pansy was the right thing to do."

How could he explain to George what had happened over the past few months? Or yesterday in Malfoy Manor? How could he explain how he felt about Pansy - that rude, arrogant, morally dubious witch? How could he explain the depths of her - the darkness that was so logical and her love that was loyal and painful and furious.

"I know it seems mad, but I care for her and being there was the right thing. She's the right thing. And it's complicated and so much easier to hate the Slytherins for what they've done. Unfortunately - and believe me this was a bitter pill to swallow - it's more complicated than those who were good and those who weren't. There were young people in that house who didn't have anything to do with the war. We can't punish them because their relatives did wrong… although those we lost might make it feel that way."

George rubbed his face, looking away and then at the backs of his freckled hands. "You always were a top loon. Though not exactly a ladies man, which makes all this more surprising."

"Hey, maybe it's my time to have the family spotlight," Charlie said raising his arms casually over his head, his false easy smile growing. "We've got a sports star, hero, political climber, banker and wealthy entrepreneur already in the family. Perhaps I'm finally finding my niche - I could be the new Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Charlie, please don't say that," Mrs Weasley said, coming in and bringing in a sudden feeling of bustling into the room.

"It's inappropriate. We just walked past poor Gilderoy and he was muttering about what lovely tea cosies we were all wearing. I hope you're not winding Charlie up, George."

George gave a dramatic sneeze into a bright purple Weasley Wizard Wheezes handkerchief - swiftly covering up his splotched face and giving his Mother a departing salute. Before heading to the door, he gave Charlie a nudge and in an undertone whispered. "Merlin, if Mother can forgive Gilderoy… maybe you're right."

"How are you feeling, pet?" Molly said testing his temperature with the back of her hand. "I'm so glad you're up. The healer said you should make a complete recovery if they'd managed to draw all the poison out, which he was completely confident about."

"I think he had to be confident, my dear," Arthur said, wrapping his arm about her. "You were terrorising him."

"As I should-"

"Mum, I'm sorry to ask, but do you know any more about Pansy?"

The room went quiet, an empty silence hanging in the air.

"She's not up yet, love," Molly said after a pregnant pause. "It's quite… powerful what you were hit with. You slept right through three whole days. The trainee healer I spoke to, Astoria, says they think she's going to be out a little while longer. There was a lot more poison in her."

Charlie swallowed. Asleep is okay. Asleep meant healing. She was going to get better.

It was the same news Bill gave, though he knew he wouldn't be satisfied until he could see and speak to her.

"Can I…" Charlie began, thinking maybe if he kept asking the question…

"Not before your leg is properly healed," a voice from the door said.

A cool-looking blond witch in lilac trainee robes stood there. Charlie thought she looked vaguely familiar.

"I'm under strict instruction from the on call mediwizard, your mother and a strict note from your employer to not let you leave your bed until we're quite happy with your recovery. Sounds like you have a bit of a reputation around here."
Charlie rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "I thought the healers quite liked me. And aren't recovery times are more like guidelines?"

"Ah, the mystery of your reputation is solved," the trainee replied, scribbling something on his file and leaving without a fuss.

"Such a nice girl," Molly whispered as she left, turning to Charlie with a renewed look of concern.

"I'm okay, Mum. Really."

Molly's eyes glimmered, but Charlie could see the annoyance building in them.

"Well, you better be. I'd planned Christmas perfectly for our numbers and you went off with your usual nonsense and—"

"Mollywobbles," Arthur whispered to her. "Let's give the boy some food and leave him to rest. He must be half-starved."
And with that they unloaded tubs of beef, pork, turkey, Brussel sprouts, parsnips, carrots, stuffing, pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, red cabbage, and every sauce you could imagine. All of that work and love Molly had put into the Christmas now lay in perfectly packaged parcels ready for him, her errant son.

"Thank you, Mum. This looks delicious." He looked at their faces as they prepared to go back with the rest of the family to the Burrow.

"We love you, son," said Arthur, looking at him warmly.

"So much," Molly added, a shadow of a frown still on her face. "We'll… ask after Pansy when we next come in. So no doing anything dangerous on that leg."

Charlie smiled. If that was the deal, he could wait a little while longer. Perhaps.

The next day Charlie was given the okay to walk on his leg, but not leave St Mungo's. Astoria, his trainee healer, explained that Manticore poison was a tricky thing and liked to give delayed reactions in some of the more fortunate victims.

"Don't you mean unfortunate?"

"No," Astoria replied, looking tired but answering him patiently. "I think anyone who walks away from a manticore attack is probably quite fortunate. Even if the poison covers them in blisters for a few days afterwards."

Getting back on his feet didn't mean that Charlie could march over to Pansy's room quite yet. Instead, it meant the Aurors felt less guilty about taking his statement.

And the particular Auror doing so was Harry Potter.

Charlie sat on one of the pale chairs in his recovery room opposite the saviour and celebrity. His leg was propped up awkwardly on a sentient footstool whose tassels wagged with delight.

Charlie wanted to ask Harry if being famous made interviews a bit awkward - surely some of the people he arrests are a little star struck? - but it was an unspoken Weasley rule not to ask Harry about being famous… or any of the horrifying things he had to deal with while at school.

Any time he saw Harry he was struck by the weirdness of it. His face so often in the paper and his Mum's kitchen that it was quite difficult to equate the two. Charlie treated everyone in a reasonably similar way - with the joviality of a particularly adventurous Labrador - but it was tricky with Harry. Finding the line between treating him like your kid brother's mate and the person who saved the wizarding world was like trying to find the equator by foot.

Charlie looked like he managed the former relatively easily, but he still couldn't get rid of the itchy feeling under his skin. The one that paired Harry Potter and danger, and not in the good way. Though if he was now going to be romantically entangled with a certain morally ambiguous Parkinson, perhaps this should be something he gets over… especially for Ginny's sake.

"Sorry, Charlie, I had hoped I could get all the information from the other witnesses, but half of them have been quite cagey about the attack. And the other half have completely disappeared from the map."

"Oh," Charlie said surprise. "Do you think they've been captured by those masked weirdos?"

"No, if they had captured someone or had managed to hurt them, we'd know about it. Everything they've done thus far has been remarkably showy. But the Slytherins going to ground doesn't help us trying to protect them." Harry frowned, touching his scar thoughtlessly. "Any information you have will really help us, Charlie. I feel like we're in the dark with this one, especially if the victims won't even give us much."

Charlie combed his mind through the details. He remembered the names and numbers of all the Slytherins at the house, the masked attacker who Flooed to 67 Cat's Alley, the aliases and how their cloaks wafted over them like smoke - almost like Dementors.

"Burbage," he said, midway through his stream of consciousness. "The one who the manticore was… eating. Their name was Burbage. They forgot to use fake names."

Harry's face, once so open with his every thought and feeling, suddenly shut tight like a book. His demeanour became still, professional.

"Thank you… we hadn't yet been able to identify them."

"Were you able to capture any? How were they able to get a manticore in there?"

"No, not yet. And we don't know… I'm worried that the attack on the Dragon Sanctuary was part of their plan, a way for them to get another dangerous creature. I'm talking to Amos Diggory. He-"

"Works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I know." Charlie was too impatient for these details. "Luna's patronus said you were all dealing with a Selma at Azkaban during the attack? Those creatures, pretty nasty things, belong in Norway - and in fresh water. Was that linked too?"

"Yes, the timing was too perfect. And there's other evidence - I'll show you. The Selma wasn't happy once we'd got control of it. It managed to kill one of the prisoners." Harry was barely hiding how pissed off he was, like he'd much rather be actively tracking the perpetrators down than doing this slow work of putting the puzzle pieces together.

"So… what does this mean for Pansy? And the others?"

Harry brought out a picture of Malfoy Manor and Azkaban. Charlie remembered, distantly now, that the manor had been aflame and smoking violently when they'd arrived there, but he hadn't realised what the smoke was shaped like.

In both pictures, rising high above the buildings was the figure of a woman born of smoke. Her eyes were covered with a strip of fabric and in her hand she held out a set of scales, which dipped unevenly. On the heavier side, there was a pile of grim and grinning serpents that snapped and hissed at each other. On the other, lay three dead snakes.

'Three dead Slytherins," Charlie said, not knowing if it was a question or not.

"It's an image of the goddess Justitia found over both buildings - both that housed numerous Slytherins linked to the war. Both have been attacked by fantastic beasts and both had deaths. It's revenge, Charlie, these people are out for revenge."

It was a long conversation and Charlie felt drained afterwards. Seeing Ginny walk through the door was a relief (though he still looked pointedly away when Harry and she kissed). Harry excused himself, rolling his neck as if preparing for a fight he was looking forward to - he was going to try and get more answers out of Draco.

"How do you feel about being my human crutch?" Charlie asked as his sentient footstool whined in disappointment.

"No hello, how are you, how's training going? This is surprisingly high maintenance behaviour for you."

"If it makes you feel better, please pretend I said those things while you help me find Pansy's room."
Ginny's broad quidditch shoulders ably handled his weight as he tested he leg on the ground. Mostly okay, bar a few twinges.

"You know you're my favourite sister."

Ginny gave him a hard, brown-eyed stare that looked like it said don't make me bat bogey you. Then slowly tried to manoeuvre round the other patients in the hallway - a centaur with a cast, a wizard with six accidental arms (manically high-fiving himself) and a witch, who with the utmost calmness, seemed to be slowly turning gold.

"How's Pansy? And is there… anything Harry's not telling me about the situation?"

"Your psycho girlfriend is still asleep. And Harry's on it. He would have shared everything with you that he could."
Charlie looked imploring at her.

"That's it. I can't share the details with you because I don't know the details. And it's also only been a few days. This operation has obviously been going a while, it's going to take longer. Trust him."

A discomfort caught him in the stomach. The danger was still out there, waiting for Pansy and her friends.

And speaking of danger… Ginny came to a halt. Ahead of them, outside room 347, stood Draco Malfoy. He looked unscathed but tired, eyes focused through the open door where Charlie assumed Pansy lay.

Old friend, ex-fiance and Death Eater. Charlie didn't often wonder about the etiquette in most social situations, he just naturally was, but he felt momentarily stumped by this one. He squeezed Ginny's shoulder remembering what this man's family had done to her, silently letting her know she could leave.

"Malfoy, stop gawping and shift over," Ginny said, moving Charlie to the wall near him. "I'm getting a tea."
Draco withdrew from him like an intake of breath, face unmoving apart from the widening of his eyes. Charlie swallowed before looking through the door, preparing himself.

Inside, Pansy wasn't alone. Blaise was sitting by her bedside, reading out the more ridiculous sections of the news to her. It felt bittersweet. He wanted some privacy with her, but a feeling of utter relief washed over him to know she hadn't been completely by herself. Yet, why was it just these two with her? Charlie thought about the five person welcome he woke to, the get better soon cards and how his parents had barely left his side - as they'd always done when he'd ended up here scrape after scrape.

Charlie hadn't realised it was possible to feel loneliness for another person.

Her sleep look heavy but unhappy. A frown deepened her face, more stark than any of the bruises and bandages. But she was there, restless in her restfulness.

"How is she?"

Silence emanated from Draco. Charlie wasn't quite sure if he'd respond.

"And who exactly are you?"

Merlin, help him.

"I think you know my brothers. And sister."

Draco's face looked like it was carved out of pale marble. Unlike Charlie, his skin looked unscathed from life's adventures, yet his cold eyes were full of fear.

"William?"

There weren't that many wizarding families…

"Charlie," he replied, smiling but not offering his hand. "Charlie Weasley. How's she doing?"

The thin line of Draco's lips stayed firmly shut. Someone had taught him to use silence, but it made him more annoying than powerful.

"Why don't you just tell me so we can keep this conversation as short as possible."

This cold prince blinked. Without thinking, Charlie tensed the line of muscle along in his jaw and arms in subdued frustration, and saw a reaction go through Draco.

He forgot what he looked like sometimes - his bulk and scars and flaming red hair. Charlie looked like a man who could do harm. He gave himself a shake, loosening, trying to find that puppyish smile people liked. He shone it at Draco, full force.

"Come on - how's she doing?"

"Fine, though she's not going to wake any time soon."

Charlie's eyes followed the lines of bandages along her body, mostly hidden under the soft blanket. His mind replayed the shadow of those spines flying through the air and being caught by parts of her body that shouldn't catch.

"Does her Mother know?"

Draco curled his upper lip. "Tamsin is the last person Pansy would want here."

Charlie felt like he'd just dropped points in an exam. "Her family would want to know. They'd want to be here."

"We are."

Charlie's blue eyes bore into him, uncomfortable with this truth. Pansy should have more people than this coward. She should have armies looking after her. She should have comfort waiting for her when she wakes up, loving arms and a Christmas meal tucked neatly in a box.

"Harry's looking for you," Charlie said, hoping to banish this ghost. "He doesn't think you're being forthcoming with the answers from the attack."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You'd think he'd have better things to do. Well, can't keep the boy wonder waiting."

As if sensing the direction Harry had headed in, Draco walked off the opposite way.

Strange man, Charlie thought, trying not to wonder what he and Pansy had been like together. He tried to lumber quietly through the door, favouring his right leg, as if he might accidentally wake her from her deep, bottomless sleep.

"Hello again," he said distractedly to Blaise, finding it difficult to look anywhere but the bandages and the bruises blossoming across her.

"Ah, it's the Weasley, obviously," Blaise replied with a tired smile, parroting Charlie's introduction to him. "This might sound strange given the circumstance, but it's very good to see you. Especially not strung through by a manticore."

"Um, thanks. Ditto."

Up close, Pansy looked even smaller. That didn't make any sense - she was tall, broad, proud. This hospital room didn't fit her. The forced peace on her face looked uncomfortable. He realised that Pansy was a person who was always moving, always reacting to things. This stillness was sad and unsettling.

It felt too intimate to take her hand while Blaise watched, but he couldn't help brushing his fingers in the back of her wand hand to check she was actually there. He could see the telltale lump between her forefinger and thumb where her wand regularly rested. She was so beautiful, but no where near as glorious as when she was awake.

"They all say said she's not going to wake up for a few days."

"That's what I've heard. The Aurors have asked enough times," Blaise replied.

"Do you know who might be after you all?"

Blaise gave a single bark of laughter.

"I'm flattered that you think I've been able to piece together what the Aurors haven't been able to. I was going to ask you the same question."

Blaise still held an air of elegance, despite the deep purple shading his eyes. He was wearing a new waistcoat in a deep aubergine, and his long fingers worried at the gold buttons on the front. His foot rest across his knee, feigning nonchalance. In reality, he looked worse than Pansy, awake but haunted.

"When you're not here, do you have a safe place to go?"

Blaise's eye softened.

"I can see why she likes you. I have a place to go. Not that I'll tell anyone here about it. For now, there's enough protection and Aurors in this building to keep it safe."

"What about your friends?"

"We tend to work these things out. Speaking of which, I must make my departure. There's someone else I need to visit in here. You're okay to stay with her?"

Charlie nodded, wondering if he'd be enough for Pansy when she did wake. He knew Luna and the wranglers had sent a an owl asking if they could come, which the healers had dissuaded for the moment - fewer visitors in St Mungo's meant fewer potential attackers getting into the building.

His heart dropped to the floor. To wake up so vulnerable, with so few familiar faces and no family.

"Pansy knows how to reach me," Blaise reassured. "And I think you might be a better face for her to wake up to."

That wasn't entirely right. It wasn't right at all.

This girl, so known and unknown to him, so tricksy and difficult. He was not the face that would bring comfort to her.

Sitting with her, even as the same poison that had run through his veins was being cleaned from hers, was a particular kind of torture. To be with Pansy but not be able to speak with her or see her face move and react, feeling a hundred things in a hundred moments, was like someone had sat down and designed a torment especially for him. Though it was much better being sat by her than impatiently waiting elsewhere in the labyrinth of St Mungo's.

Carefully, Charlie slipped his arm under Pansy's, so that they touched wrist to wrist. Was it okay to touch her like this while she slept? He so wanted to hold her hand or rest his head at the side of her bed. All those easy welcome kisses on Christmas Eve had felt so natural, but now he wasn't sure if he should touch her at all, not when she wasn't awake to say yes.

Regretfully, he withdrew his palm, his leg throbbing uncomfortably. Even looking at her like this while she was asleep felt like a violation. When he'd watched her sleeping in his arms that night on the mountain or even hearing her sonorous breaths in his room at the Burrow… those had felt like gifts. For someone to feel safe enough to sleep near you, especially someone like Pansy who never felt safe, it was more than Charlie could ever ask for.

But she didn't choose this sleep. And she had no control over who came and went or over any of the events outside her sleeping mind. Charlie thought seeing Pansy would ease him, but the realisation she was still in danger, had so few people to take care of her and that in comparison to her life long friendships with Blaise and Draco, she might not think him close enough to be with her like this… it was a thought that sat large and painful in his mind.

As night fell and the faelights turned to their blueish midnight hue, Charlie moved to lie on the sofa to ease his leg. Occasionally a healer would pop their head in, thinking Charlie was asleep, before going about their business. He didn't sleep at all that night, instead keeping his vigil and turning the problem over in his mind.

In the morning, there was no change in Pansy, her breath still soft and rasping.

Charlie gently said her name, wishing she'd wake up before he left. It might take him some time to put his plan in place and he didn't know how long it would keep him away. Stubborn as ever, she remained asleep.

Charlie dared to drop a kiss onto her forehead. He daren't stay longer. There was a lot he needed to do.

He needed to make sure there were Aurors here to guard her and that he had enough favours to pull in. But mostly, he needed to assure himself that she wouldn't wake up alone.

And he needed to make sure she saw the face she most needed to when she woke up.

With that, he shifted on his leg, and slowly make his way to go find Draco Malfoy.