You guys have been so sweet to me in the reviews and I appreciate every single one so much, so thank you! Here's the next chapter and hopefully I'll be cranking out another one in the next few days. Thank you for your patience! Please let me know how you're liking the story!
"Going somewhere?" Ginny's voice was calm and even as she crossed her arms over her chest, giving Charlie a knowing look. "On Christmas Eve, Charlie? Really?"
Heaving a sigh, Charlie slid his pack off of his shoulders and dropped it to the ground. "I can't stay, Gin."
"Because of Hermione?" His eyes widened at her words and Ginny rolled hers.
"How did you know?"
Ginny shrugged her shoulders, tucking a lock of her long, red hair behind one of her ears. "I overheard her screaming at George and I put two and two together. I'm not an idiot, Charlie. The only reason Hermione would be so cross about the mistletoe would be if something had happened. You and Hermione spend every morning down here giggling and drinking coffee and making eyes at each other, and then suddenly you disappear and she's in a sour mood and she's screeched at George until he took the mistletoe down. One of you got stuck and you two had to kiss and now you're both feeling weird about it and making things awkward. And now here you are, sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, knowing full well that Mum will have a cow when she wakes up in the morning and you're gone. I had a feeling you'd try to leave, so I figured I'd wait up and see if I was right." She smirked. "And look at that, I was."
Charlie flushed, looking down at his boots and running a hand through his hair. "I can't stay," he repeated, softer this time. "I got stuck and she came down and she kissed me, and I… I shouldn't have kissed her again, but I wasn't thinking properly and then she ran out of the kitchen and I don't want to spoil her Christmas any more than I already have."
Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes again. "First of all," she began, standing from her seat at the table. "This isn't just about Hermione. We've all missed you, Charlie, and you're finally home for Christmas and you're trying to sneak out on Christmas Eve. That's not fair to the rest of us. Secondly, have you even talked to her about it? Maybe she's fine. Maybe it's a misunderstanding. You're assuming that she's upset or angry and you don't even actually know. I mean, yeah, she was cross with George, but she might not be cross with you at all. Third, your Portkey doesn't even leave until after New Year's, so what, are you going to apparate all the way to Romania? That's idiotic, you're going to splinch yourself. You'll bleed out halfway between here and there or you'll leave a leg behind or some kind of shit, and then what are you going to do? Pull someone else away from their Christmas to patch you up?"
He wasn't used to being scolded by his baby sister, but Charlie had to admit that she was mostly right. It wasn't fair to his family, and he'd already considered the possibility of splinching himself but hadn't come up with a solution. He dropped into one of the chairs and Ginny sat back down, too, next to him. She leaned her head onto his shoulder. "What did you write in the note?" she asked quietly, and Charlie actually laughed a little.
"Am I that predictable?" he asked, and Ginny nodded.
"You left a note when you left again after the war," she murmured. "And you wouldn't just leave without saying anything."
"I just said that something came up. I didn't really elaborate."
Ginny huffed again. "You couldn't have been a little bit more creative?" she teased, and Charlie ruffled her hair. "Some Weasley you are."
He laughed, slinging his arm around his little sister's shoulders and hugging her tight. This was how it should be with Hermione, too, he thought. It should be comfortable. It should be easy. She should feel like family. Hell, she'd dated his little brother and she was seven years younger than he was. There was no reason for him to want to push her up against the counter and snog her senseless, and yet that was exactly what he'd done. He felt disgusting.
"I can hear you thinking, Charlie," Ginny informed him. "Just… relax, okay? Take your bag back upstairs, unpack, and go to sleep. Everything will look better in the morning, promise. Everyone will be so busy opening presents and eating food that no one will have time to worry about anything that happened today." She stood, kissing the top of his head. "I'm going to bed. I will see you in the morning." And with that, she flounced out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Before he could change his mind, Charlie grabbed the strap of his pack, hauled it back onto his back, and followed his baby sister up the stairs, going off to his own bedroom.
Maybe Ginny was wrong, he thought, pulling his clothes out of his pack and putting them back in the dresser. Maybe Christmas would be horrible and awkward. Maybe Hermione would be furious with him. Maybe instead of opening presents, there would be a family-wide screaming match and Christmas would be ruined for everyone.
Okay, even he could admit that that last one was a bit dramatic. Charlie chuckled to himself, unlacing his boots and toeing them off before setting them by the foot of his bed once again. He stripped off his clothes and put his pyjama bottoms back on before sliding back into his childhood bed, letting his head sink comfortably into the pillow. Tomorrow was Christmas morning, and he had to go to sleep or else Santa wouldn't come, he told himself. Charlie smirked and pulled the blanket up to his belly.
But sleep didn't come.
He tossed and turned, Ginny's words and his own anxieties about tomorrow and possible scenarios kept running through his mind, his thoughts racing at what felt like a million miles an hour. No matter how Charlie scrunched his eyes closed and willed himself to fall asleep, his stupid brain refused to shut up and let him rest.
After what felt like an eternity, Charlie threw off his blanket and stood with a loud huff. It was clear to him that he wasn't going to be able to sleep anytime soon. Perhaps some tea would help him relax, he thought. He stepped over to his dresser, tugging a threadbare tee shirt over his head and then gathering the stack of gifts in his arms. If he was going back downstairs, he figured he might as well arrange them under the tree with the rest.
He made his way quietly down to the living room. The middle of the night and the early morning were the only times when the Burrow had any semblance of quiet. Normally, during daylight hours, there was so much chaos within the house's walls that he was sure they could be heard all the way in London. It bordered on deafening a lot of the time.
The middle of the night was different. Everyone was in bed-the Weasleys loved their sleep, after all-and it was like the house could settle and breathe. Charlie basked in the peace and quiet, so used to living alone and only having a radio and his own thoughts for company. There was still a fire crackling in the fireplace and the large tree loomed in the corner, sparkling and shimmering with lights and decorations. He was overwhelmed with nostalgia, suddenly remembering all seven Weasley children crowding around their mother and father to help put the decorations on the tree.
There were far more gifts now than there had been in his childhood. Now that they were all adults with incomes, it didn't all rest on Molly and Arthur's shoulders to provide Christmas gifts. There had been a lot of wrapped hand-me-downs, but none of them had ever complained. Now, though, each of them had gotten a gift for everyone else, and there were towers of gifts below and around the tree. Charlie smirked-maybe it was about time to start drawing names instead of getting gifts for everyone. If they kept this up as everyone had children, there wouldn't be room in the house for all the gifts.
Charlie approached the tree slowly, tucking his own stack of gifts among the others, arranging them so that they looked nice. At the reserve, they put up a small fake tree in the common area. No one really got each other gifts, as most of them lived frugally and minimally. It was nice to be home, where the big tree and all the gifts tugged at a soft spot in his heart. He really did regret staying away from home for so long. He'd imagined that it would be too painful for everyone if he wasn't here, that the gaping hole that the loss of Fred had left in the family would widen even further and swallow them all whole if he stepped in to try to fill his part. Somehow, though, it seemed that they'd managed to stitch themselves even tighter together, trying their best to fill in Fred's gaps where they could.
He allowed himself to think of Fred, then, allowed his heart to ache and his throat to tighten. Charlie tried not to think of his little brother often because he was terrified that the grief would swallow him whole. He couldn't begin to fathom how difficult this had been on George.
At the thought of George, his guilt grew tenfold. George. The remaining twin, the one who'd survived. Charlie should have stepped in to help, should have tried to fill some of the gap that Fred had left behind him. He'd heard fleeting news of all of his siblings from Ginny, and from what he knew, George had thrown himself into his business. He and Angelina clung to each other like each was the other's port in a storm, the last piece of Fred that either of them had. Charlie chewed on his chapped bottom lip, the guilt swelling in his chest as he tried his best to swallow it down.
He'd have to pull George aside for a talk while he was here. Maybe he'd even have his brother out to visit on the reserve for a few days when the weather got warmer. There was nothing that couldn't at least be helped a bit by fresh air and working with dragons.
Maybe, he thought, he could do a little rotation and have one of his siblings out every few months. It would be nice to have some one on one bonding time with each of them, and it'd certainly be easier than coming home so many times a year. He could still come home for Christmas or maybe for a few weeks in the summer instead. The thought brought a little smile to his face as he wandered into the kitchen, hopeful that the tea he planned to make would help lull him to sleep.
Charlie popped the kettle onto the stove and pulled a mug out from the cabinet, deliberately avoiding the one that Hermione had claimed, although the sight of it sent a fresh wave of emotion through him. Was it only this morning that he'd come down, planning to have coffee with her like usual, before he'd royally screwed everything up? The cabinet still smelled faintly of coffee, a scent that he now associated directly with her. Fuck, that was going to make things difficult once he was back home. He could only hope that the physical distance between them would lessen whatever he was feeling.
As the water heated on the stove, Charlie looked through the tea bags. His fingers danced over the Earl Grey for a moment before he reconsidered and plucked a chamomile tea bag from the box instead. Maybe that would relax him enough that he could sleep.
He never had trouble sleeping on the reserve. Between his relatively peaceful life and the constant physical work, he almost always slept soundly. There was the odd dream or nightmare, of course, but he almost always woke early, rested and energized for the day. He didn't know what sleep remedies there were, really, because he never needed them. He did remember his Mum making chamomile tea for Percy quite a bit when they were young to help him sleep, though, so he thought he'd might as well try it.
The kettle whistled, bringing Charlie's attention back to the quiet kitchen around him as he pulled the steaming pot off of the stove and poured the hot water into the mug and dropping the tea bag in. He set the kettle aside and slid into a chair at the table, setting his steaming mug before him so that the tea could steep. He knew it wasn't really the case, but it always felt like tea took so much longer to make than coffee. Maybe it was just the fact that the mug was in front of him steeping, but it always felt like an eternity before the tea was strong enough.
Charlie wrapped his hands around the mug, allowing the heat to seep into his hands. His palms were heavily calloused but lightly scarred, his fingers thick and muscular like the rest of him. He was the broadest and shortest of his siblings-well, he was taller than Ginny, at least-and his body was a clear indication of what he did for a living. Freckles and scars and a few tattoos littered his fair skin that wouldn't darken no matter how many hours he spent in the sun, although sometimes his freckles got so dense that they resembled a tan. As the heat seemed to sink all the way down to his bones, Charlie willed himself to relax. He needed to get some sleep tonight, or tomorrow would be even more of a nightmare.
Just as he tilted his head back to take a deep breath, Charlie heard the open-and-shut of one of the bedroom doors and soft footsteps in one of the hallways above his head. Someone was awake, probably for the loo. Still, he stiffened, quieting his breathing so that he could keep his ears out for any sudden movements. Too soon after the bathroom door closed, he heard the open-and-shut of another bedroom door. That wasn't unusual with so many people in the house. Even growing up, all seven Weasley children would find themselves lined up outside the loo at one point or another. An additional bathroom likely would have helped, but they made do with what they had.
After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened again, and Charlie heard two voices murmuring softly to one another. It was two of the girls, judging by the octave, and his breath caught. There were plenty of girls in the house, but the thought that Hermione might be awake in the middle of the night, too, sent his thoughts racing once again.
He absent-mindedly took a sip of his tea, frowning when he found that it was still too weak. Charlie wrinkled his nose and set it back down, pushing it away from him a bit so that he wouldn't forget and drink more before it was ready.
The footsteps all finally quieted, the sounds of doors closing settling over the house just before the silence returned. Charlie couldn't decide whether he was relieved or disappointed-on one hand, he was glad that he was alone, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to see her, to apologize, to have her sit next to him again and drink tea and talk.
The house remained silent. He heaved a sigh, pushing down the swirl of conflicting emotions inside him, and gulped down his too-weak tea. Standing, he deposited his mug in the sink and trudged back up to bed. Even if he wasn't going to be able to sleep, he could at least lie in his bed and pretend until morning.
As he ascended the stairs, however, he heard the distinct sound of sobs coming from behind someone's bedroom door. Charlie immediately entered a protective mode-it was the side effect of having so many little siblings. If someone in the house was crying, he needed to fix it if he could. He followed the sound, confused to find that it was coming from behind his own closed bedroom door.
Alarmed, Charlie pushed the door open and was surprised to find George sitting on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest as he heaved sobs into his own lap. He crossed the room in two steps, closing the door behind him and climbing onto his bed next to his little brother. Charlie wrapped his arms around George, who choked out an even louder sob at the contact and moved to tuck his face into his big brother's neck.
"Georgie," Charlie murmured softly. "What happened? Talk to me."
George's voice shook as he spoke. "J-Just… didn't want to w-wake Angie," he managed, sniffling. "Your d-door was open and I didn't w-want to bother anyone s-so I…"
"Of course you can always come in here," Charlie reassured his brother. "Don't ever feel like you're bothering me. I'm sorry I wasn't in here when you came, I was… erm, downstairs. Making myself some tea. Couldn't sleep."
George simply nodded. "I j-just… I m-m-miss him," he sobbed, fresh tears falling hot against Charlie's skin. Of course. It was no secret that George hadn't been himself since the war-he'd lost his other half, quite literally, and it was no surprise that the holidays would be a more difficult time than the rest of the year. The whole family was gathered together, but they'd never be a whole family again.
"Me too," Charlie said softly, leaning his cheek on top of George's head. "That's… it's part of why I haven't been home in so long. It's not the same without him, is it? I mean, nothing is, but Christmas… it just reminds me. Reminds all of us."
George nodded, trembling. "I'm g-glad you're here," he whispered. "We've missed you, really. S-Sometimes… sometimes it feels like we l-lost you both."
His words hit Charlie like a freight train. Had his absence really been that difficult on the family? It wasn't as if he'd been around much before the battle, either-he'd gone off to Romania almost as soon as he'd graduated and he hadn't made it home much. Still, things had been different afterward, and Charlie's guilt was mounting. He'd been too wrapped up in his own guilt and grief and career and he'd effectively abandoned his family. George was still sniffling into his chest and it cemented the fact that Charlie had been so incredibly selfish.
"I'm so sorry, George," he murmured, rubbing his little brother's back comfortingly. "I didn't realize that everyone missed me so much, honestly. I mean, Gin's letters always said everyone missed me, but I just thought that was a general sentiment, not that… that you all really missed me that much."
George looked up at Charlie, then, his eyes red and puffy but a classic Weasley smirk on his lips. "You're barmy," he said, his voice raw and rough from sobbing, but he managed a chuckle all the same. "Of course we all miss you, you great prat, especially since… well. We're glad you're home. You've got to come home every Christmas from now on, yeah?"
Charlie laughed a bit, too, choking back his own tears as he ruffled George's hair. "Yeah. I think I will."
George stood then, wiping his eyes on his pyjama sleeves, and Charlie stood too, wrapping his baby brother in a tight hug. "I best get back to Ange before she wakes up and I'm gone," George said, and Charlie nodded.
"See you in the morning, Georgie," he said, and watched as George slipped quietly from his room.
Charlie flopped down onto his bed, wiping at his own eyes as tears threatened to fall. He felt guilty, of course, but it was also a little bit nice to know just how much he'd been missed. It was a better Christmas gift than he could have anticipated, and he found himself drifting off to sleep full of the warm feeling of being loved by his family.