I am just loving writing this story and hearing from you all! I've decided from now on it's going to be a little more gritty. I've been writing in the LOTR universe for a long time and that has to be more refined, but these characters are in their 20s and 30s in the early 2000s and that's a whole different ballgame. I hope you enjoy the shift.

Chapter Seven

"Adair," a voice called softly into her flat. It was Katie and she knew if it was Katie that Oliver wouldn't be far behind her.

They found her in her bedroom where she had been for three days following her injury during the Egypt match. Coach Williams had given her some time to recover as she had ended up breaking five of her right ribs.

She had played in a fog that day. She wasn't sure she had ever played a worse game in her entire life. Reaching up to catch the Quaffle she had been completely unaware of her surroundings. Even as the Quaffle was coming straight for her hand from her teammate she just kept seeing Charlie's face when he had realized where'd she'd been and what she'd been doing. She shook her head, trying to get the image out of her mind. In that instance, she hadn't seen or heard the Bludger until it was too late.

"We brought you something to eat," Katie said, sitting gingerly on the edge of her bed.

Oliver stood a ways away. He hadn't spoken to his sister since before that match. He was so angry at her for almost costing them the game. Had they lost to Egypt, they would've been out of the running for the World Cup.

Adair shook her head. "It still hurts to swallow."

Oliver nodded at the two empty bottles of Firewhiskey on her bedside table. "Must not hurt too bad."
"Fuck off, Oliver," Adair replied. Neither of them smiled.

"I can't even look at you right now," he ground out before leaving her bedroom, leaving Katie with his sister.

"He'll get over it," her soon to be sister-in-law promised.

"I could give a shit less if he does or not."

Katie flinched. Adair had a hard time remembering that Katie didn't occupy their world. Playing for Hogwarts and playing professionally were two very different matters. In Texas, she had learned that first and then again in Germany, but she was she certainly understanding the pain, frustration, and loss that came with playing professionally during her season with England.

Her brother's fiancee had always been gentle. Off the pitch at Hogwarts, she never showed any aggression. After school, she had gone into Healing and worked at St. Mungo's. Her life was very different than Adair's.

"Sorry," Adair mumbled.

"It's alright. I know you two have your differences," she said. "Can I see the damage?"

Adair nodded and lifted her t-shirt up, sucking in her breath as she did so. The bones were healing themselves, but she was still so sore.

She glanced down at the bruise that was turning a nasty green and then up at Katie.

"It's a good sign. When are you going back to practice?"

"Two days."

Katie rolled her eyes. "You need more time than that."

Adair shrugged and then cursed, sucking in her breath sharply. "Well that's what they've given me."

Katie stood up. "Let me know if you need anything, alright?"

"Thanks, Katie."

She could hear Katie scolding Oliver before the door to her flat shut.

Adair lifted her wand. "Accio Firewhiskey."

ooooOoooo

Weeks went by and she continued to play like absolute rubbish. Coach Williams summoned her for numerous conversations. After three matches where she was less than useless on the pitch, he started threatening to replace her with one of their backup Chasers.

"I know, I know," she said, putting her head in her hands, collapsing into a chair in his office.

"Every player goes through these phases, but this has been going on for a while, Adair. And we certainly can't afford it so late in the season."

"I'll get it together," she promised.

She didn't or she couldn't. They played two more games and they barely scraped along.

Oliver was furious.

Coach Williams had read in Seeker Weekly that some of the Asian teams were performing so well because they were doing yoga, so he hired a man to teach the team yoga in an attempt to get their heads right. He wouldn't say it out loud, but Adair was bringing the whole team down with her.

Watching the Beaters try to contort themselves into the very confusing poses might have been funny if Adair hadn't been in such a foul mood.

Oliver came in and unrolled his mat right next to his sister's.

The room was completely silent as they all tried to focus on their playing and how they could improve. They were supposed to visualize the World Cup as they contorted their bodies.

"What is going on with you?" Oliver hissed at Adair. They hadn't really been on speaking terms since she had continued to play worse and worse.

"Nothing. Shut up," Adair whispered back.

"Tell me because we've got to figure it out. You're playing like shit. You're going to get yourself replaced."

"Shut the hell up," she repeated.

"Hips up and back into down dog," the instructor said.

"Don't talk to me like it's my bloody fault you're a mess," Oliver snarled.

"Quiet please," the instructor said in his annoyingly calm voice.

"I'm not a mess," she shot back, ignoring the man in the front of the room.

"Well Firewhiskey isn't a potion to cure broken bones."

"I'm healed, aren't I?"

"You've got to get your shit together, Adair."

Adair glared at him as they moved into plank position and then into cobra. "You're one to talk. Now you're engaged and we have to pretend you didn't shag everything that breathed for however many years. Does she know that?"

"Back up to down dog," the instructor said.

Oliver was quiet finally.

"Make it a split down dog by lifting your right leg into the air."

"I would suggest you leave me alone if you want to keep it that way," Adair said.

"Bitch," Oliver hissed, reaching out to shove his sister onto her side while she only had three points of contact with the ground.

Adair landed hard on the ribs she had broken. They hadn't been bothering her, but the impact left her aching.

"Get out of here, you two!" Coach Williams shouted. "Figure it out in the corridor."

Oliver went first and Adair shoved him hard through the doorway.

"I know I'm playing like shit," she snarled. "Do you think I need you pointing it out?"

Oliver pushed her back when he turned around to face her. "I was hoping it might help." He sighed, taking a step away and running his hands over his shorn hair. "I haven't seen Charlie in a long time. Did something happen?"

"You can't play the caring big fucking brother card now, Oliver," Adair said, turning her back to him and rubbing her side.

"Come on." He felt bad for hurting her. "You could tell me if something did."

"Just fuck off, Oliver, alright? I don't want to talk to you!" she exclaimed.

"Well you've got to talk to somebody," he said reasonably. "And you scare the piss out of everybody else so that just leaves me."

"I fucked Seamus!" she exploded, finally turning around to face her brother.

"I know. That's not news."

"No," she shook her head. "Charlie surprised me the night before the Egypt match, or at least he intended to, but I wasn't in my flat. You let him in that night because I was at Seamus'."

"Bloody hell, Adair." Oliver just stared at her.

Her eyes started to well and she wiped at them roughly. "I ruined everything and it's probably for the best for him."

Oliver honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his sister cry. It could've been when she was little and had taken her first real spill from her broom.

He was barechested from the workout, but he pulled her against his chest anyway. "Shit," he murmured.

"I can't stop seeing how he looked at me," she whispered. "I didn't think we were exclusive or whatever."

"But you knew he thought you were," Oliver said, not letting her off easy even if she was crying.

Adair pulled away and wiped her eyes again, not looking at her brother.

"It's for the best," she repeated. "He doesn't deserve all this rubbish."

"You do have some baggage," Oliver agreed.

Adair gave a watery laugh and punched his shoulder.

"I know it was early, but you seemed to make each other happy the few time I saw you together. All I want for you is to be happy. And you've seemed pretty fucking miserable lately."

"I don't know what to do. I don't think I'm like you. I don't think I can turn it around like you did for Katie. This lifestyle. I don't know. It's hard to break out and live like the rest of the world."

"Either you do or you don't, but you have to get your shit together. We could go to the World Cup, Adair, but we're barely hanging on right now."

She nodded. While her brother was the fanatic, her life centered around the sport as well. It wasn't that she wanted to play like rubbish.

"We've got a few days before our next match. Maybe you could take a quick trip to Romania?"

"That seems risky. He obviously never wants to see me again," Adair sighed. "Can't blame him."

"You won't know that for sure until you ask him," Oliver said logically.

"What's the point? I don't think I can give him what he wants." She couldn't look at her brother.

"You have to decide that," Oliver replied. "Are you more uncomfortable now without him or with him and only him?"

"This is why I didn't want to talk to you," Adair said with a weak laugh. "You're so reasonable now. And possibly a romantic?"

Oliver laughed and gave his sister one more hug. "Possibly. Now get out of here. I'll cover for you."

ooooOoooo

The earth shook beneath her feet as she searched for Charlie. Adair tried to stay away from the enclosures, remembering what had happened the first time. She ran her fingers through her hair thinking of the singed ends after the day she spent with Charlie. A small smile crossed her face thinking of how concerned he had been for her wellbeing.

She didn't find him anywhere.

"Adair?" an accented voice called her name and she turned to see Sandor hustling after her.

"Sandor!" she exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?"

She had assumed that would be obvious, but there was something on his face. "He told you?"
The man looked uncomfortable, but he nodded.

"I really need to talk to him."

Sandor looked away from Adair. "I assume you know this, but he's really angry and hurt."

Adair nodded. "I know."

Sandor sighed. "If he asks how you found him you better not tell him I told you."

"I won't," she responded eagerly.

"He was in the hatchling building last I saw him," Sandor said, but Adair had already started to jog off, going by memory to the building he had taken her to when she had come back with him from Bucharest.

She wandered through the terrariums until she saw the back of Charlie, learning over what appeared to be the same Chinese Fireball babies from her visit.

"They've gotten bigger since I last saw them," she said quietly.

Charlie straightened up and turned slowly at the sound of her voice. "What are you doing here?" he asked lowly.

Adair thought she could feel the chill rolling off of him.

"I need to talk to you," she said quietly, trying to meet his gaze, but failing.

"I would think we're a little past that, don't you?"

"Obviously not or I wouldn't be here," she replied a little shortly. "I know I fucked up, Charlie, and I can't stop thinking about it."

He rolled his brown eyes. "Maybe you should've thought of that before you went and shagged somebody else."

"Of course I should've. But I was so scared of what was happening between us."

Charlie swiped a hand over his face. "Adair, I'm working right now. If you must have this conversation you can wait at my place until I'm done."

"Oh. Right. Of course," she said. She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and left the hatchling building.

She made her way to the cluster of cabins in the woods and climbed the stairs to Charlie's cabin, letting herself in.

Her bag dropped to the floor and she fell onto his soft, worn-out sofa. She thought back to the days she had spent there with him and wanted them back. She hated waiting for him with nothing to do. She was in some sort of purgatory and it was a completely unfamiliar feeling.

No one had ever made her wait around for them before. Adair was, whether she liked it or not, or whether she had asked for the treatment or not, used to getting what she wanted when she wanted it. The treatment went hand in hand with being a world-renowned Quidditch player and one of the more attractive ones.

In all reality, she had never thought a lot about how she was treated until she was sitting in Charlie's cabin waiting for him to show up and talk to her.

An hour passed and she couldn't sit anymore so Adair paced back and forth through his living room and emotions went back and forth between nervousness and anger. She was afraid he would tell her to get lost and never contact her again and then she would get angry, thinking that if he was going to go that route then he shouldn't have asked her to wait for him.

Another two hours passed before the door opened. Adair turned, her long hair fanning out behind her, to face him.

Charlie looked exhausted.

Adair didn't know what to say. All of the anger vanished. It wasn't just exhaustion on his face, but sadness.

She took a deep breath. "Charlie, I am so sorry. You didn't deserve that. I clearly wasn't thinking and was running away from whatever I was scared of. I knew what you wanted even though we'd never discussed it, but I ignored that because it made me uncomfortable."

"Do you think that makes it better, Adair?" Charlie squared himself to her, looking down at her. "Do you think coming here and giving your trite little apology, which you've clearly never done before, makes anything better?" Anger was radiating from him.

"I know it doesn't," she said quietly.

"Then what is the point of your being here?" he asked roughly.

Adair looked down at her feet. "I just wanted to apologize."

"Well you have."

Adair nodded and picked up her backpack, heading for the door, trying not to let him see the tears in her eyes, fighting any sign of vulnerability or weakness until the very end.

"I was really happy," he said quietly as she grasped the doorknob. She didn't turn back to face him, but stared at the rough-hewn wood before her. "Those few days we had together here and there were amazing. I hated to be apart from you and I've never had anything that took my focus away from my job like you did. I lived for your letters. The thought of travelling with you and watching you play sounded like something I'd like to do. Something I'd really like to do."

Adair still had her back to him.

"Look at me," he said.

She turned slowly, tears streaming down her cheeks. At that point, she didn't even bother to wipe them away and Charlie seemed unmoved by the display of emotion.

"Not once in my life have I ever gotten so close to another person, Adair," Charlie said.

Adair thought she heard something in his voice soften.

"I would rather spend my days with animals than humans and I finally thought I might have gotten over that tendency when I met you and spent those days holed away from the world. It was physically painful to leave you."

Charlie shook his head and looked out the window. "I could smell him on you. The night I surprised you. When you came back it was so obvious where you'd been and what you'd been doing. I was so surprised by the pain I felt. I hadn't expected it. I didn't realize until after how attached I'd become so quickly." He hastily wiped at his own eyes.

Adair took another deep breath and when she spoke, she didn't sound like herself. "What I did was cruel and unthinking and unforgivable. If I didn't know that before, then I certainly do now. I don't ever expect you to speak to me again, but I want you to know that I am truly sorry, Charlie. I wish I hadn't gotten us here. I wish I had taken everything more seriously. I wish I had talked to you when I was feeling uncomfortable."

Charlie gave a rough laugh. "Talked to me? You hardly ever said anything to me. I don't know anything about you. I couldn't tell you your favorite color or your birthday or anything."

Adair was silent, knowing what he said was true. She was dangerously closed off to most people.

"I've never been with anyone who wanted anything substantial from me. Bloody hell, I've never been in a real relationship with anyone. I treated it like all the others. Just having some fun here and there before it was over."

"That's so immature," Charlie replied, shaking his head. "I know there's an age gap between us, but you're a bloody adult. You should've known better."

"I know, I know. You're right. I ruined everything and I have to live with that." She turned back toward the door.

"You didn't come here to fight for me?" he asked, his voice a little stronger. "You didn't come here to convince me to take you back?"

"Maybe that's what I had in my head a few hours ago, but I think it's clear that that would be impossible. Even if I thought such a thing was possible, it wouldn't be what's best for you. I am quite clearly a cold-hearted bitch and you deserve someone better than that or at the very least to be alone in peace." Adair turned around again and looked up at him. "I wish I was different. I wish these things were easier for me to understand."

"Damnit, Adair, you could be!" Charlie exclaimed. "You could be whatever you wanted to be, but you want to take the easy way out and not put any work into anything."

Adair didn't know what to say to that. From her past actions that seemed to be the case.

"I don't know why I'm still having this conversation with you. I'm not sure why you came." He pulled his long hair down and ran his huge hands through it.

Adair wanted to touch it again. She wanted to pamper him and wash it while he was wrapped in her legs in her huge bathtub.

"I would take it all back if I could," she said quietly. "I would really try to figure it out with you."

"I'm not your test subject, Adair. If you're not going to get it right then I'm not interested. It would just be asking for more trouble for myself."

"What are you saying?" Adair asked, brow furrowed.

"I'm saying that I can't stop thinking about you. No matter how much I want to be pissed off with you, I still just miss you. You're all I fucking think about, all I dream about. Do you know what it's like to wake up after a dream about you and you're not here? To wake up from that and there's no prospect of being near you in the forseeable future or ever because we're," he motioned between them. "Because we're not a thing anymore."

"I do actually," she said, almost whispering. "And I miss you too. More than I thought I'd ever miss another person. I would like to be with you."

"And only me?"

Adair's stomach dropped at the thought of exclusivity, but she nodded anyway. "With only you."

She was afraid that he was tricking her somehow. She didn't want to seem too excited, thinking it might all crash down around her. If it did, it would be her own fault.

Charlie looked down at her, wondering if he had made a huge mistake in saying all he had. He wanted her back, wanted something to look forward to, but she had hurt him badly and he wasn't sure giving her another chance to do the same thing was a good idea.

They looked at each other uncertainty.

"Can you stay?" Charlie finally asked.

Adair nodded. "Until late tomorrow morning."

"I can make something to eat," Charlie offered.

"I'm not really hungry," Adair replied, shaking her head.

Charlie nodded, but didn't say anything. He was used to her saying that. "What are you then?" he asked, taking a few steps toward her until he was standing so close she could feel his warmth. He didn't touch her though.

"Happy. Relieved. Still embarrassed."

As she spoke, he ran his rough fingers through her long blonde hair, pulling gently so that she was looking up at him.

"Don't hurt me again, Adair," he said, lowering his head and pressing a kiss to her neck.

"I won't," she promised.

Charlie moved so he was kissing her lips. Adair wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, afraid he would slip from her grasp somehow.

With ease, Charlie lifted her into his arms and carried her to his small bedroom, tossing her on the bed. When his hands were free, he pulled his jacket and t-shirt off, kicking his boots off before crawling across the bed towards her.

"I won't say this is what I missed the most, but it's certainly up there," he said, running a hand under her t-shirt, cupping a breast and crashing his lips against hers.

He pulled her t-shirt over her head and unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them off, kissing the insides of her thighs as they were exposed to him.

Charlie felt himself swelling when Adair was only in her matching black lace bra and panties.

"This seems very planned," he said.

"It was my backup plan," she grinned up at him.

There must've still some pent up aggression and anger in Charlie, because he quickly had Adair on her hands and knees in front of him. He pulled her underwear down and grabbed her hips hard, pulling her around him.

Adair gasped and he moaned, thrusting into her a little harder each time.

He was cognizant of the fact that he might be hurting her, but when she asked him to pull her hair, that thought went out the window.

How he was using her body was something Adair understood much more than the slower and more sensual acts he sometimes leaned towards.

With one hand, Adair was hanging onto the headboard, neck exposed and Charlie took a handful of her thick fair hair and pulled her neck back.

Her back arched to give him just the right angle. One of his hands came around and her pinched her peaked nipple.

Adair gave a cry of surprise, but she moved her hand to keep his right where it was.

"Fuck," she moaned, dropping to her elbows and burying her face in his pillow, inhaling his scent of fire and leather that she had missed so much. That was all it took to send her over the edge.

"Fuck, Adair," Charlie groaned when he had finished and slumped over her, his groin still pressed against her backside.

ooooOoooo

The next morning, Adair woke before Charlie. She was surprised to find that she had slept the whole night asleep on his shoulder, his arm wrapped snugly around her.

She began tracing the scars that were visible on his muscular chest and stomach, the sheet was low on his waist. He had a tattoo on his chest, covering nearly his whole right pectoral muscle.

She'd never really asked him about his tattoos. They spent very little time together and so when they were, there wasn't a whole lot of time for talking. Adair imagined that would change.

"It's the Celtic symbol for fire," Charlie said, his chest rumbling under Adair's cheek.

"How many do you have?"

"Too many too count," he said, chuckling.

Adair stretched up to kiss him softly. "I like them."

"Well good because they're permanent."

Charlie hauled her up so she was sitting on his hips. Both of them were completely naked. Adair looked at him smiling, wishing she could spend every morning in such a way. His huge, rough hands rested on her hips. Her hair fell in a curtain around her.

"We've really not taken much time to actually look at each other, have we?" Charlie asked, tracing the biggest scar Adair had on her body. It was much darker than any of the ones she had received from Quidditch and it wrapped around from the middle of her back almost to her left hip. "How did you get that? It doesn't look like a Quidditch injury."

Adair shook her head, hair rippling. "I got that one at the Battle."

"The Battle?"

"Six years ago, happened at Hogwarts, good and evil," Adair said sarcastically.

"I know what you're talking about. I didn't know you were there."

"I didn't hang around afterwards. I got that tended to." She covered his hand with hers as he continued to trace it. "And then I went back to Texas."

"It looks like it hurt," Charlie said, cringing a bit.

"LIke a bitch. Oliver found me or I might've bled out."

"Thank goodness for your brother," Charlie said with a rogue smile as his hands ran up her body, thumbs brushing over her nipples and then back down to rest on her backside.

"Don't say that now," Adair laughed. She leaned over and kissed him.

They spent the morning in bed, in turns touching one another and making love and talking a bit before she had to go.

"Black and October second," she said when she was pulling her jeans back on to go back to London for practice.

"What?" Charlie asked from where he was propped up in his bed, watching her somewhat hungrily.

"You said you didn't know my favorite color or my birthday. Respectively, the answers are black and October second."

She came back to the bed and kissed him one more time before she headed for the door.

"Black isn't a color!" he called after her, shaking his head and grinning.

I loved most parts of this chapter and I hope you did too. Please let me know what you think and if you have any ideas for these two. I love to hear headcanons you might have because those get hard to come up with after a while so any inspiration is most welcome. No hate comments or flames, please.

Happy reading,

Avonmora