It is midnight when Harry emerges from his room once more. He makes his way to the kitchen as quietly as he can possibly manage in search of something to quench his parched throat. Upon entering the kitchen Harry curses himself. He really did not want to see Charlie right now. Not after everything that occurred just a few hours before. "Hey Harry," Charlie offers with an awkward grin as Harry walks up.

"Charlie," Harry greets back, "Mind grabbing me a glass?" Harry points to the cupboard above the counter Charlie is leaning against, sipping off his own glass.

"Oh, sure," Charlie says, turning to reach into the cupboard. Harry takes a moment to appreciate the way his muscles shift under the tanned canvas of his skin as he moves to complete the simple task. Why is Charlie not wearing a shirt? To torture Harry most likely. Fuck if it is not working.

"Thanks," Harry murmurs upon receiving the glass. He turns to the faucet and pours himself a glass of water.

"So uh, trouble sleeping?" Charlie asks, unsure of how to break the awkward silence between them. Harry nods his head, words lost on him. He had never actually fallen asleep. Ever since the war sleep did not come easily to him. Harry spent his whole life with a part of Voldemort attached to his soul and he became accustomed to the feeling. So now that it is finally gone Harry cannot help but feel like something is missing from himself. He knows it is gone for the better, but a part of him misses the feeling it gave him. "Wanna talk about it?" Charlie offers quietly, noticing the dazed look on Harry's face.

"No, it… it's okay. I would hate to trouble you," Harry says, and he means it. He has no doubt that Charlie will have some words of wisdom to offer him but Charlie does not deserve that burden on his mind. Plus Harry hates to think what Charlie would think of him for feeling upset that he is no longer connected to the Dark Lord.

"Right, sorry," Charlie says and once again that look is back. Harry hates that look. He feels terrible for having caused it twice in one day, but his insecurities beat that feeling of guilt down to his core. Charlie would be disgusted by Harry if Harry told him why.

"Stop apologizing for caring, Charlie. I really do appreciate it. It's just one of those things that have been haunting me since the final battle, that I really don't think anyone would understand without experiencing it."

"Harry, we all experienced the war."

"Yeah but not all of you were connected to Voldemort," Harry says, without intending, and just like that it is out. Well, he really cannot avoid talking about it now. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- it's so hard to explain and I just don't know why I feel like this. It's stupid really," Harry mumbles, feeling his face heat.

"You can tell me, Harry. I won't judge you." Harry wants to believe him, but even Harry is judging himself. However, with a deep breath, Harry begins.

"I was one of Voldemort's horcruxes. I had been almost my whole life. When they thought they had killed me all they had really done is kill off that part of Voldemort living inside me. The thing is, I had grown so used to it being there that now that it's gone I just feel like something is missing. I know it's for the better, in my head. The rest of me just can't catch up," Harry says, quietly, not wanting the conversation to accidentally be overheard. Harry can't bring himself to meet Charlie's eyes. "I know it's fucked up, I shouldn't miss it, but it's just weird not having it there. I don't know. I'm sorry," Harry says, rubbing his eyes, "I haven't told anyone this. I just… I hate myself for even-"

"Harry no," Charlie says, grabbing the man's chin and bringing his gaze level with Charlie's. "Do not hate yourself for feeling that way, anyone would. There is nothing wrong with you for feeling that way. Frankly, I'd be more concerned if you didn't miss it and if you were just able to cut it out as if you hadn't carried that weight with you your entire life. Missing it, Harry, that just makes you human," Charlie says, and Harry cannot help but break a small smile as tears well in his eyes. At some point during his speech, Charlie had gotten much closer to Harry than he had been before, so much that if Harry dared to move forward half a foot their lips would meet. Harry flushes at the thought.

"I'm sorry to burden you with this, I hadn't intended-"

"Harry, shut up, you're not a burden. Actually, I have been meaning to ask if you're… well, what I mean is if you would-" Charlie stops his words abruptly as he hears footsteps coming down the stairs. Ron walks in, rubbing his eyes as he walks into the dim light. Ron stops when he sees what he just walked into. Charlie clears his throat and backs away from Harry a bit, suddenly seeming much more nervous than before as he finishes with, "uh, happen to know who won the Quidditch match last weekend?"

"Oh um, the Canons actually. Surprisingly. I surely thought Puddlemere would have wiped the floor with them," Harry responds, but he cannot help but feel like that is not at all what Charlie was about to say.

"Oh, sorry. Don't mind me," Ron says, walking awkwardly behind them and grabbing a cup from the cabinet. He grabs a glass of water and quickly vacates with another rushed apology. The tension in the air suddenly feels like too much, and Charlie clears his throat.

"Well, um, I'd better get back to bed but uh, if you need to talk you know where to find me." The words come out rushed. Charlie finishes the bit of water left in his glass and then leaves the room almost too quickly. Harry sighs, leaning against the counter. Now he was really going to have trouble sleeping.

Sure enough, the unasked question haunts Harry for the next 8 hours as he tosses and turns in his sheets. He tries without much success to just stop thinking and go to sleep but as soon as his thoughts are cleared they rev right back up again. In all, he manages about four hours which is about his usual as of late. When he walks down for breakfast the next morning he assumes Charlie must have experienced some of the same if the bags under his eyes are any indicator.

As soon as Harry is down the stairs both Hermione and Ginny look up at him. "Harry! Finally, you're up. We need to talk to you," Ginny says, quickly grabbing Harry by the hand and dragging him back in the direction he had just come from. Hermione follows close behind.

"The hell?" Harry asks when they finally reach Ginny's room on the next floor. Ginny shuts the door behind them and turns on Harry again.

"What happened last night?" she asks, her eyes alight with mischief. She has always been one for gossip.

"What? Nothing," Harry says, confused as to how the two had even been aware that something might have almost happened.

"Oh come on Harry. Ron said he walked into the kitchen last night and it looked like you and Charlie were about to start sucking each other's faces off. His words, not mine," Hermione says and Harry sighs. Ron is a fucking blabbermouth.

"I was having trouble sleeping so I went to get a drink and when I went downstairs Charlie was already down there. We talked a bit and he asked why I was up. I admitted I hadn't been sleeping well as of late and accidentally let slip why because Charlie is just so infuriatingly easy to talk to. No, we're not talking about why," Harry says, cutting off the question that had yet to leave Hermione's lips. She rolls her eyes at him. "Anyway, he comforted me that it was completely normal given the circumstances. Then he started to ask me something and Ron walked in. He then changed the topic to Quidditch and then rushed from the room. So yeah, nothing happened," Harry says, looking at the two girls.

"Nothing? Are you kidding me?"

"That was definitely something."

"How was that something?" Harry asks, bemused at the excitement.

"What were his exact words before Ron walked in?" Ginny asks, completely ignoring Harry's question. He sighs and rubs a hand down his face, frustration quickly flooding his system.

"I don't know, he was kind of stumbling over his words when he started. He said that he'd been meaning to ask if I would and then Ron walked in and then he just asked if I knew how last Saturday's game turned out." Ginny all but screamed with excitement.

"Harry! You idiot! He was going to ask you out," Ginny says, barely containing herself. "Oh my god I hate Ron so much right now," she says upon the realization that her brother had interrupted the two blindest people in the world almost confessing their feelings to one another. Harry rolls his eyes and turns to leave.

"If that's all, I should probably get heading to breakfast," Harry chuckles as he moves to the door. Neither female stops him on his way out, but they don't follow behind him. Their voices die out when Harry reaches the stairs again so it is anyone's guess as to what they could be discussing. Though, anyone could guess without much effort.

Harry enters the kitchen and the first thing his eyes land on is a still very shirtless Charlie. Except now instead of shadows shifting over the muscles only shown by the dim light above the kitchen sink they are fully exposed to the natural sunlight flooding in through the windows. He looks like a Greek god, his muscles defined and the perfectly tanned skin only marred with the occasional scar. That is only to be expected, however, considering the man's career revolves around caring for creatures ten times his size.

"Morning 'arry," Ron yawns, and Harry shoots a glare at him. "Sorry mate, Hermione forced it out of me."

"I'm sure," Harry says, rolling his eyes at his best friend. Sometimes he could be a complete moron. That does not mean Harry loves him any less, it just means that sometimes he feels more inclined to kick him in the shin than others.

"How'd you sleep?" Charlie asks as Harry takes his seat across from him.

"Alright," Harry lies, "and you?"

"Same," is all Charlie says, and Harry knows that Charlie does not mean same as in he slept alright. He means same as in they have the same bags under their eyes and they both probably slept like hell.

"Sorry," Harry says, feeling horrible. He must have worried Charlie too much or scared him with the thought of being under the same roof as someone as fucked up as Harry.

"You say that word one more time and I promise you that I will dump that glass of milk on your head," Charlie says with a small grin, pointing to the glass Harry is in the process of pouring from the pitcher.

"So-" Harry stops himself, trying to think of something to respond with other than an apology. He sits there for a good couple minutes, silent and pondering. Nothing comes to mind. Charlie laughs across from him at the frustrated look of bemusement on the man's face.

"Alright, alright mate don't strain yourself over there. You're a Gryffindor, not a Ravenclaw," Charlie says, and Merlin his laughter is infectious. Harry chuckles at his own expense as he puts a couple pieces of toast on his plate. "So um, what're everyone's plans today?" Charlie asks, turning his attention to the other two seated at the table.

"'Mione and I are checking out a couple apartments and with some luck we'll actually find one she likes," Ron responds, looking less than thrilled at the idea of apartment hunting.

"Angelina gets back today so she's going to get here around noon and we're going to help mum in the garden. Angelina's idea, not mine," George says, seeming excited to see his girlfriend but less excited at spending all Sunday chucking gnomes from the garden.

"What about you Harry?" Charlie asks after a moment's silence.

"No plans," Harry shrugs. This has been how most of his weekends have gone. The only reason he feels like he sees his friends anymore is that they are all still shacked together under the same roof, but even that will not last much longer. Honestly, with Charlie being back this weekend, it's the most attention any of them have paid Harry. Perhaps the only reason they were trying to pair Harry with Charlie is that they do not want him to be alone anymore. "What about you?"

"Same, actually." In Romania, Charlie usually spends his Saturday nights in a bar, and his Sundays recovering from the aftermath until he is due back at the Burrow for dinner. Sometimes he has someone to recover with, but they rarely stay that long.

"Well, you two have a fun day of pining- whining about having nothing to do. Good day," George says, standing up from the table and heading toward the stairs. Harry catches Charlie shooting him a glare and he rolls his own eyes as well. These people will not relent.