So, here it is ...

Not sure how I feel about this one. But I had the idea for this absolutely ages ago, and I'm not completely sure it matched my expectations. That being said, I hope you like it still ~~

As always, let me know what you thought; and please leave plenty of comments (because they make my day) 

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I was beginning to hate the smell of St Mungo's. The sterile, faint scent of antibacterial cleaning potions lingered in the air and I was fairly certain they had seeped into my skin and followed me home. Helga knew, no matter how much I scrubbed my skin after each day in this hospital, the smell lingered so much that I wondered if it had fused with my very essence. If that hadn't happened already, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I'd already spent months here -

Helga, it was already months now. If only this could all be over -

I forcefully stopped the thought before it was completed, accepting the wave of guilt that washed over me for thinking that way. It was a horrible, selfish, thing to think and yet, yet it had continued to creep into my mind. No matter how insistently I tried to push it away, it crept back into my mind in the depths of the night. But I refused to let the selfish thought take root, not whilst I was here at least. Whilst I was in this room, sitting beside this bed, I would not let myself finish my thought.

Instead, I let out a long sigh from between parted lips and tilted my head from one side to the other, trying to relieve the ache in my neck. Straightening out my head once more, I looked to the occupied bed, searching the pale almost lifeless face of my young husband. The last few months of him lying in this bed, eyes closed and breathing unsteadily had robbed him of his youth, his body had turned frail and there was no hint of the old him there. He didn't seem like the man I'd married. The hex had robbed him of that.

Breathing out another deep sigh, I reached out a shaking hand, grasping the blanket and lifting it to his chin, just the way he liked. I didn't let my hand linger and drew it back to my lap, clutching both of them tight and squeezing so hard the knuckles had turned white. It was too much -

Sitting here every day, for hours on end after my work day, only to greet and entertain the steady stream of visitors was too much. Playing the role of the dutiful wife was burdensome and draining. Without fail, it always left me feeling empty inside, like maintaining the farce for that long was eating me away on the inside. And yet, I did it anyway. Every day, with no exception. Not for the near stranger in the hospital bed, but rather for the pristine memory of him that still lived on in the minds of all the visitors that came to see him. It was a duty I fulfilled, but once the curtain drew and his visitors all left, it was tiring to strip the costume off and return to the reality of my life as a young witch who was soon to become a widow, to find herself alone again.

The sound of the door opening snapped me from my thoughts, and I prepared to slip effortlessly into my role when there was a call of "Ingham?"

My surname, spoken in that all too familiar and desperately missed voice had me halting instantly. There was no need to pretend, not for him. I stood from my chair in a heartbeat, turning my body to face the wizard who stood in the open doorway of the hospital room. Charlie stood tall, a hand lingering on the door handle as his eyes searched my features. I tried to offer him a small, watery smile, the one I'd given to everyone today. But I failed. The true storm of my emotions came across, just in my eyes alone - I knew that I knew that Charlie had always been able to read my eyes even when I tried to hide them from him.

But now here he was, Charlie, standing tall and looking so much like a pillar of strength that my response was completely instinctual. For the first time in months, since all of this bother had begun, my knees began to falter, letting the weakness I'd tried so hard to hide, came to the surface and I crossed the space between us in rapid paces. Charlie, knowing my mind without my having to say anything, released the door handle and opened his arms, ready to catch me when I went corralling right into his chest. His arms, as strong as they'd always been, wrapped steadily around me and held me tight. Linking my arms behind his back, I clasped them together and burrowed my face into his chest. I breathed in his comforting scent until my lungs ached; until that moment I hadn't realised just how much I'd missed him. I'd missed Charlie so desperately that even my bones felt his absence.

"You're alright," Charlie said quietly, a hand rubbing slowly up and down my back. "It's alright."

The words were small but from him, they meant so much. They meant everything that he wasn't allowing him to say and it was too much. I couldn't bring myself to lift my head to look at him. It was only if my face remained burrowed against him that I could hide the hot tears that slipped down my cheeks. But there was no hiding the way my shoulders had started to shudder.

"Sorry," I mumbled into his chest, sniffling and trying my hardest to stop my tears.

He chastised softly, "Don't be stupid, Ingham."

Managing to compose myself, I straightened up and forced myself to lift my head. Lifting my eyes to his waiting beautiful eyes, I swallowed thickly and offered him a watery smile. Releasing my hold on him, I wiped my palms across my cheeks.

"Helga look at me," I said bashfully, knowing I was standing so close to him that our shoes were touching but unwilling to move away, "making a scene as soon as I see you. When did you get back?"

Charlie, smiled softly albeit sadly, "I came back as soon as I could. How are you?"

"Fine." I waved my hand dismissively, averting my eyes. He knew when I was lying, he always had. "Sorry for the scene."

"It's okay," he said again, for what felt like the hundredth time.

He reached out a hand, brushing at the moisture at the corner of my eye so gently that I sought his own out. They held mine steady, and I found myself searching the depths of those beautiful blue eyes and shifted away from him at the pang of guilt that was the silent companion throughout the entirety of my married life. Effortlessly, the way he always did, as soon as he returned, Charlie had become the centre of my being.

Clearing my throat and needing the sound to ground me in the truth of this moment that I was in my husband's hospital room, I turned my back to the man I was certain was the love of my life. Crossing the space back to my seat, I gestured to the other chair on the other side of the bed. Charlie didn't move to take his seat beside his once best friend. Instead, he just watched me steadily.

Crossing my legs at the ankle, I asked quietly, "What are you doing here Charlie?"

"I knew you'd need me here."

**********

There were few occasions where I could steal away from my husband's bedside, but when those opportunities did present themselves, I took them all with grateful hands. It made me a horrendous wife, I knew that, but my relationship with Bradley was far from perfect, and I could not lose myself completely as his ever-faithful wife. I couldn't sit by his bedside day in and day out, only ever leaving that room to go to bed, or go to work. I was hardly partying away, and living the life of luxury whilst away from Bradley. No, I was shopping for vegetables, for tonight's dinner. And yet it felt like every other custommer in the shop was eyeing me dubiously as if wondering how I could commit such a heinous crime. Feeling the weight of their probing eyes on me, I adjusted my hold on the basket I carried, tugging it tighter into the crook of my elbow.

A call of my name had me halting, stopping me from abandoning my shop with half of the ingredients I needed for dinner still missing. My head snapped up, searching the crowded shop and zeroing in instantly on the older witch who was making her way towards me. Just the sight of her, and the maternal energy that had always welcomingly radiated from her had relief flooding me. I didn't feel so alone anymore.

"Molly," I greeted her as she came to a stop in front of me, holding her own overly full shopping basket. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, drawing me into a one-armed hug before I could protest, not that I would. Rather, it was rare that I was comforted like this and I greedily accepted the embrace. She was the second Weasley in as many days to comfort me like this. Drawing back from me, Molly's eyes found my own, holding them steady as she asked softly, "How are you, my dear?"

"I-" Her sympathy made it hard to hold her eyes, so I didn't try. My eyes fell back to the carrots in my basket, studying them like they were the most interesting thing I'd seen all day. "I'm alright. Oh, and thank you, for all the food you've been sending me. My head has been all over the place."

"Anytime." Molly reached out her free hand, putting it on top of mine and giving it an encouraging squeeze. My eyes flickered briefly up to hers before darting away once more. "You know you're like family. How is Bradley doing? I understand this is a very difficult situation to find yourself in at such a young age."

It was a difficult situation, but when had life ever been straightforward for me? But I didn't say that, not when I knew just how she'd chastise me. And it was because I knew she would chastise me, that she wouldn't understand, I didn't tell her that I wanted - more than anything - for this all to be over. It was too selfish a thought to have and I could never verbalise it.

So I didn't. Instead, I offered Molly a wan smile and said, "I feel like we always talk about me, Molly. How are you and the rest of the Weasleys?"

"You know us, we're always busy," she started with a faint frown, likely not appreciating my change in subject. But, the frown faded, smoothing out into her usual gentle smile. "But, Charlie's home for the first time in months so it's a little busier than normal. That boy, he turned up after midnight, can you believe it? Who comes home at midnight?"

"Oh?" I said plainly, as if I didn't know that Charlie had spent hours with me in the hospital room and had only headed back to the burrow after seeing me home safely.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with him." Molly shook her head despairingly. "He needs a good woman in his life if only so I know he's not lonely. I don't suppose you know anyone."

I ignored the sharp stab in my chest at imagining Charlie dating another woman and shook my head. But Molly's eyes probed me closely, looking at me with such hope that even though I didn't want to, and even though I didn't mean it, I said a faint, "I'll keep an eye out."

"Thank you." Molly gave me a beaming smile before she exclaimed abruptly, "Look at me holding you back! Charlie tells me he's coming to yours for dinner tonight, so don't let me keep you."

"It was good to see you, Molly," I said accepting the escape channel she gave me, and preparing to turn away.

"It's always good to see you, my dear." She offered me another smile as I waved at her as I headed towards the potatoes. From behind me, I heard Molly call out a final, "Please see if you can talk some sense into him!"

I pretended I didn't hear her, or that her words didn't echo in my mind as I continued with my shopping. But they did. And the reality of it remained present. Charlie wasn't dating, and it wasn't because he was the sort of person who didn't want love. He did want love, and he did want a relationship, but that didn't change that he wasn't dating. Forcing the thought away, I continued with my shopping and left as soon as I could.

When I reached home, I set about making dinner, knowing that Charlie was supposed to arrive soon. Putting the shopping bags on the counter, I reached for my apron and tied it around my back. Washing my hands, I reached for my wand and summoned my chopping board. Turning my attention back to my fresh ingredients, I started to prepare my vegetables. As I cooked in the muggle way, my hands moved were constantly moving and as was always the case when I cooked, my mind was blissfully blank. This was one of the few activities that had become my solace in the hectic moments of my life. Cooking helped to silence the chaos in my mind.

I lost myself in the repetitive motions of preparing the fresh produce and the meat, not needing to think too carefully about anything. Distantly, as I crossed my small kitchen to the potted herbs lining the window sill, I heard the floo activate. The sound had become so strange in my home that my steps slowed and I held my breath a little.

"It's only me," Charlie's voice called out from the front room, and I breathed easier.

Continuing on my way, I reached my herbs and picked some off from the plants. "I'm in the kitchen, Charlie!"

I made no move to approach him, forcing my feet to remain where they were, in the safety of the kitchen as he made his way towards me. I wanted, more than anything, to go to him, to seek the security that only his arms could give me. But I couldn't. That wasn't my place. It hadn't ever been my place and the two bands that remained on my left hand were testament enough to that.

"You didn't get around to repainting the walls then?" Charlie asked, his voice sounding much nearer.

I turned, a bit surprised, and found him standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He stood tall, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, as he offered me a gentle smile. I returned it, only after cataloguing the telltale tension he held in his shoulders. It made sense; he hadn't set foot in my home in years now.

"You know Bradley," I said faintly, holding his eyes for only as long as I let myself, and then turning back to my chopping board, "he always says he'll get round to it and then never does."

"He's not a man of his word, that one." The weight of Charlie's faint remark wasn't lost on me, but I didn't defend my husband. How could I when Charlie had only spoken the truth?

"Anyway." Clearing my throat a little, I grabbed the herbs I'd freshly picked, gave them a quick rinse and then added them to the pot. "Guess who I saw in the shops today?"

Charlie walked further into the room, leaning against the counter beside the stove. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching me with eyes that were gentle and far too honest. "Who?"

"Your mum." Charlie groaned at my answer, rolling his eyes when I shot him a knowing smile. "Don't. She was fine, as she always is. But, she did say she's worried about you."

"Mum worries about everything." He shifted bodily to mirror my movements as I walked around him. "What's she worried about this time round?"

"She thinks you might be lonely." I tried to sound aloof, but I knew I failed. "She's worried that you're not dating, Charlie."

From the corner of my eye, I saw him still, but I didn't dare look at him. Instead, I tried my best to pretend that I wasn't probing for information, that I wasn't hoping selfishly and stupidly and immorally, that he'd confirm that he wasn't dating.

"I'm not."

Nodding once, I accepted his answer. Despite knowing better, I asked so quietly that he could have ignored it if he wanted to, "Why not?"

He could have ignored it, but he didn't. Instead, it was his turn to try and fail at sounding aloof. "You should've told her, Ingham, that I'm in love with my best friend who just so happens to be the wife of someone who used to be my other best friend."

His words had me frozen, unable to respond. But it was his eyes, open and piercing that had me rooted to the spot. Charlie was watching me expectantly, waiting for me to say something, anything, but I couldn't. What could I possibly say?

"Do you think that would get her off my back?" Charlie asked softly, searching my eyes. Still, I couldn't say anything and Charlie, Charlie who had only ever been truthful and honest and faithful and good, turned his attention to the stove. "Anyway, let me handle the stove, you need to rest up."

My eyes refused to leave him as he stirred the contents of the pot. "Charlie-"

He didn't look at me. "It's fine."

**********

My time sitting in this hospital room was finally coming to a close. It had been my most hidden desire, to no longer have to stare at the same white walls, to watch as Bradley - handsome, loving Bradley who had at one point been one of my dearest friends - faded before my eyes. But now that the moment was on the horizon, I was dreading it. If I could have, I would turn back time, right to the very beginning and keep this moment from ever happening. But it had to happen. It had to happen and I had to face it head-on. Thankfully, I didn't have to face it alone.

Crossing my feet at my ankles, I reached towards Bradley and drew the blanket up to his chin. He stirred faintly, his breathing unsteady as he moved before he settled once more. The healers had assured me that it would be painless, I just hoped they were right.

"You're alright, Bradley," I spoke in a quiet whisper, not knowing if he could hear me. But if he could, I wanted him to know that he wasn't alone and that despite everything, I still cared for him, he was still a dear friend.

Without another word, I slipped my hand into his, linking my fingers through his thin digits, careful not to apply too much pressure. He was so frail now that it wouldn't take much to break his fingers. His other hand was enveloped by a hand much larger than mine. My eyebrows lifted in surprise and I glanced across the bed.

Charlie, seated across from me on the other side of Bradley's bed, appeared unable to look at his once best friend. His eyes, helpless and full of unspoken pain, darted around the room and couldn't stay still. I didn't blame him, watching someone die was difficult, and because of his presence, I didn't have to do it alone. Everyone else in Bradley's life, his parents, and his siblings had already said their goodbyes, stating they couldn't see the end. But now that it was the end, it was the three of us, just as it had been all those years ago. It had only ever been the three of us. Even if I hadn't ever believed that I'd see the pair together again.

Sometimes, I absolutely hated sharing a lesson with Bradley and Charlie. The two always paired up together, leaving me behind and would tease me to no end about it. And then, because they were both Gryffindors, they'd choose to sit together if the table seated two, and would head out of the lesson whilst I was still packing up my things. And then to make things even worse, their long legs left me scurrying up after them to catch up. I'd hoped by now, after six years of this, they'd get over this.

"Hey!" I called out, rushing through the students crowding the corridor and chasing after Charlie and Bradley.

The pair were a metre or so ahead of me, mucking about as they walked and acting like they couldn't hear me. I knew very well that they could, they just liked irritating the hell out of me. We were too old for this rubbish.

"Will you two grow up already!" My exclamation had them laughing louder.

But, knowing me best, Charlie looped an arm over Bradley's shoulder and drew him to a halt. He turned to face me, making Bradley turn too and they both waited and gestured for me to hurry up. Satisfied, I closed the space between us, coming to a stop in front of them and trying my best not to look at Charlie. Not that it was very effective when he reached out for my hand and tugged me towards them. My eyes darted up to meet Charlie's, finding them waiting for me and flushing pleasantly.

But that was only until I was drawn between the pair of them and Bradley took the chance to draw his arm around my waist, tugging me against his side. My boyfriend had no idea and he never would, continued the conversation he'd been sharing with Charlie as we all walked towards the great hall. I tried my best to listen, but I couldn't. All of my attention was focused on the silent Gryffindor next to me. The arm that was closest to Charlie's felt like it was magnetised, seeking out his and I forced myself to keep my arm trapped firmly at my side. It would be so easy to reach out for Charlie's hand, especially when I knew he would link his fingers through mine if I did. It was just far too late now.

My eyes drifted once more towards Charlie whose eyes were rooted on me. I held them steady, wanting to say so much and yet, not knowing what to say at all. Things could have been so different, and yet they weren't. We weren't the same teenagers we had been and yet, I knew with absolute certainty, that if I reached for his hand, he'd link our fingers together in a heartbeat.

Eventually, I settled on, "Thank you for being here, Charlie."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he said with a faint shrug. "You know I'm here when you need me."

And that was the truth; Charlie had only ever been a short owl away. Even if he was countries away. Offering him another smile, I lowered my eyes back to my husband as he slept and focused on the hand that shifted slightly in mine. Holding Bradley's hand steady, I focused on him. In this moment, I needed to give him all of my attention and Charlie would remain my silent pillar of strength throughout all of this, right to the end. Right until Bradley took his final shuddering breath, the image of which I knew would be seared into my memory for eternity. But through it all, Charlie was there when the grief slammed into me when I broke into tears and had no idea how to navigate the process. He was there at my side, drawing me into his arms and cradling me against his broad chest.

Charlie helped me sign the necessary documents, standing silently and supporting me with a reassuring smile whenever I felt like I had no idea what he was doing. And then, when Bradley was carted away after I'd given him a final kiss on the forehead, Charlie floo'd me home.

Although I knew I shouldn't have, when Charlie turned to enter the fireplace, I said, "Please don't go."

He paused, uncertain, looking unsure of himself. But, Charlie nodded just once. He kept me company, waiting in my front room as I got ready for bed, and then perched on the end of the mattress as I climbed in. Lying on my side, I faced Charlie who wordlessly reached out and rubbed his hand soothingly over my head.

"I feel like I've been unfair to him," I said quietly, speaking into the silence.

"Maybe you have been," Charlie said without needing any elaboration. "But he wasn't fair to you either."

"He wasn't," I agreed. "But he loved me."

"He did." My eyes filled with tears at the memory of the man I'd married, of a man I'd loved but hadn't been in love with. Closing my eyes against the memories, I burrowed my face into the duvet and let the repetitive soft motion of Charlie's hand on my head lull me to sleep.

My sleep was heavy and needed. It kept reality far from me, letting me find some much-needed peace for the first time in months. but once I woke in the morning, I knew I had to face the truth. Bradley had died and I was his widow. I was alone now.

Drawing out a deep breath, I forced myself to my head and headed towards the kitchen, needing a glass of water. My feet took me through the front room where I found Charlie curled up on the sofa. Perhaps I didn't have to be quite so alone.

**********

My home had always felt small - cosy, I'd described it as, but today with all of my guests packed into it for the wake, it felt too small. It almost felt as if the walls would burst open if another person came in through the front door. It was heartwarming to realise that Bradley was so loved, that he mattered to so many people. But at the same time, it felt suffocating, standing on the side and living the part of a young widow, whose husband had been ripped away from her far too soon. The combined weight of the shared condolences and remorseful murmurs rested heavily on my chest, suffocated me and left my lungs grasping greedily for air.

I needed space. I just needed monetary respite from being a grieving widow.

My eyes flittered quickly across the room, searching for my nearest escape. I couldn't duck upstairs, not without having to cross the room and risk being apprehended by yet another guest. My mother-in-law - was she still my mother-in-law - stood by the door leading to the staircase and was sure to take me in a watery embrace the moment I crossed her path. Her tears were perhaps the hardest to face.

Turning abruptly, I slipped into the back of the house before anyone could see my retreat or think to follow me. My paces quickened, wanting to disappear from the sight of my guests as soon as possible. My greedy footsteps took me to the sanctuary of my much-neglected garden. At one point, not so long ago, it had been full of colour and life, but I'd lost the time to tend to it. Perhaps now that I wouldn't be spending every spare moment at the hospital, I would be able to look after it the way I always had.

Crouching down slowly, I reached a hand out and grasped one of the browning leaves. My thumb rubbed softly over the drying parts of the leaf and briefly, just briefly, I contemplated crumbling it between my fingertips.

"You haven't started smoking again have you, Ingham?" The question, coming from behind me, had me darting up swiftly.

Turning to face my new guest, I held my empty hands up for perusal. Despite trying my hardest not to, I offered Charlie a small smile; he had always, without even trying, managed to make me smile. "No, I cut that habit a long time ago and never picked it back up again."

Charlie, dressed more formally than I had seen him in years, approached me with measured paces. "A smart decision."

"I've been known to make them occasionally." Eyes locked on Charlie's, I shared a soft smile with him, only to glance away from him abruptly when I remembered just where I was. I shouldn't have been doing this - not that I was actually doing anything.

Coming to a stop a short distance from me, Charlie lifted a hand briefly as if reaching for me, before tucking it forcefully into the pockets of his trousers. He did the same with the other. A small selfish part of me wished he had given in to the urge and grasped me. But he hadn't. Instead, Charlie tilted his head, gesturing back inside my home, to my packed living room.

"Was it a bit too much?" Charlie asked, knowing the answer even before I'd said anything.

"Honestly?" Despite knowing that we were alone, I still searched the garden for any listening ears. I couldn't be honest if there was even one more person here. But, with just the pair of us, I could speak the truth. "I couldn't stay in that room. Everyone kept coming up to me and telling me that they were sorry for the loss of such a good man."

Silently, Charlie stilled as he watched me. His eyes, probing and hesitant, searched mine. He didn't dare speak, clearly not wanting to say something that I might not have known. Did I hate that he was trying to keep things from me? Or did I appreciate the fact that he cared about my emotions and wanted to shield me from the truth? My mind was too fractured to know which one.

Before he could say anything, I spoke steadily with a sigh, "But Bradley is gone now, and I won't speak ill of the dead."

"Ingham-"

Shaking my head to halt him, I remained adamant, "His family can keep the memory of Bradley as a dedicated and loyal husband. Even if we both know he wasn't either of those things." Searching out Charlie's waiting eyes, I offered him a tentative smile, "But we can hold that secret between the pair of us, right?"

"You know?" he asked, instead of answering my question. Charlie furrowed his eyebrows, turning his body to face me. "How long have you known? And why didn't you leave?"

"For all of his faults, Bradley was always honest." Charlie scoffed softly at my words but didn't contest them. "When I became suspicious, I confronted him about it and he told me the truth; that it was a one-time thing, that he was struggling with the realisation that he loved a wife that wasn't in love with him."

"Sounds like he was shifting the blame to you," Charlie murmured harshly.

"It does, doesn't it?" I asked, shooting him a rueful smile. "But maybe it was my fault for putting up with it."

"Don't," he said, firm.

"It's alright." Charlie narrowed his eyes at my reassurance but I held his gaze steady. When his expression didn't ease, I leaned closer to him, nudging my shoulder against his. "He told me, you know. That you knew that he stepped out on our marriage and that you thrashed him for it."

With an exasperated sigh, Charlie asked, "Was he always so loose lipped?"

"Bradley told me that it was why you both stopped being friends in the first place." It was a statement, but I knew it sounded like a question. One that Charlie didn't contest. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I should have told you."

"You should've," I agreed. He didn't need to know that I'd spent more time wondering why Charlie hadn't told me, than contemplating why my husband had broken his wedding vows. Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I wrapped my arms around my middle and hugged myself tightly. "But it's in the past now."

We settled into contemplative silence and my eyes focused resolutely on my barren garden. If I didn't force my eyes to remain fixed on one spot, they would have easily slid right back to him, drawn so effortlessly to him, the way they always had. And yet, even though I wasn't looking at him, every part of my being was aware of how close he stood to me, how easy it would be to close the space between us and link my fingers through his. Perhaps, years ago, that would have been the path of my life.

"If I had told you?" Charlie asked, piercing the silence between us. I shifted slowly on my feet, turning my body towards Charlie. He couldn't bring himself to meet my waiting eyes. "Would it have changed anything if I had told you?"

"Maybe not," I said after a moment's contemplation. "Things didn't change after Bradley told me himself."

"Because you loved him?" His eyes found mine then, holding them steady.

"No." My admission, the first time I'd made the admission aloud, was soft. "I don't think I ever loved Bradley. I mean, I loved him, but I don't think I was in love with him. But I was scared to be without him, to be alone."

"You wouldn't have been alone."

Fighting a wry smile, I decided to speak the truth. If I had already started saying the truth, I might as well have kept it going. "From the moment I started Hogwarts, I had both of you by my side and then you disappeared. And then it was just me and Bradley."

At my side, Charlie swallowed harshly, like he was forcing himself not to speak. Not that there was much that could be said, not now. Too much time had passed and it was time for me to return to my guests.

Straightening out my robes, I prepared to head back inside. I shot Charlie a final look, searing his image into my memory. "Just don't stay away for too long this time, Charlie. I miss you when you're gone."

**********

The crackle of my roaring fireplace was the only sound in my living room. Bradley's solicitor, who had visited briefly to read out his will, had left not long ago and his absence had ripped the room of all sound. Now, as I sat curled up on one corner of the sofa, my eyes lingered on the parchment in my hand. It was a single piece of parchment and yet, it felt so much heavier. Did all wills have this weight to them?

Drawing out a long breath, I folded the parchment in half and set it on my lap; I'd have to store it somewhere safe. For now, I turned my attention to the envelope I'd set aside, refusing to open it in the presence of my company. It seemed, apart from leaving everything to me in the event of his death, Bradley had seen fit to write me a letter. But it was a letter I couldn't bring myself to open. Not yet. My mind was still a complicated mess of grief, resentment, loneliness and remorse, and so many other emotions I had yet to untangle.

My eyes carefully traced my name written on the envelope, locking every jagged edge of Bradley's handwriting into my memory. Eventually, I lifted my eyes, glancing across the room, to my companion, seated on the other end of the sofa. I hadn't contemplated what would happen in the event of reading Bradley's will, but I certainly hadn't imagined that he would request Charlie attend too. The two had become estranged years before Bradley's passing and yet, here Charlie was, seated in my living room with a very similar envelope in his hands.

Charlie, as if feeling my eyes on him, breached the silence. "He always was full of surprises."

"You can say that again," I returned softly, watching as Charlie turned the envelope over and over again between work-hardened fingers.

"Any idea what could be in here?" Still, Charlie didn't look at me, eyes focused on his letter.

When I didn't respond straight away and the silence lengthened, he looked at me. Just as I'd hoped he would. From the moment he'd arrived, my greedy eyes had wanted to embrace his and now they finally had.

"Ingham?"

"No idea."

He nodded once, accepting my answer and then tucked his letter into his pocket. We settled once more into silence and I was left scrambling for things to say. Not that I knew what to say. For so long, I'd grown accustomed to leaving things unsaid with Charlie, only saying parts of what I wanted to say that now, with him so close to me, I wasn't sure where to begin. At some point, I'd become less accustomed to spending time with Charlie who'd pointedly withdrawn himself from my life, despite my wanting the very opposite. And yet, now that he was in England and hadn't mentioned when he was planning on leaving, I was uncertain of how to progress. It was jarring, being uncertain around a man who was such an integral part of my life.

Still, I held my tongue and said nothing, turning my eyes back to the fireplace. I watched the fire crackle, trying to think of things to say. It was difficult. Especially here, this close to Charlie, sitting in front of a fireplace, I was struggling to bat away a wonderful, and yet bittersweet memory.

Not many people lingered in the Great Hall after dinner. Most wanted to run back up to their common rooms, to unwind after a busy day at school. And yet, more often than not, I found myself sitting here, at the Gryffindor table after lunch, despite my yellow-trimmed robes. The essay settled on the table in front of me was partly completed and Charlie had sought my help, claiming that he had no idea where he was going with it. But, the truth was, Charlie always found it difficult to concentrate on things he wasn't interested in. And well, he wasn't interested in Arithmancy.

"You're getting your number charts confused," I said aloud, frowning as I read over the final paragraph that Charlie had written. "You should have used the alternative chart -"

When Charlie said nothing, I trailed off uncertainly and looked up. My head turned to the side, towards the silent Gryffindor and expected to find his face the portrait of confusion, the way it often was in Arithmancy class. But, to my surprise, it wasn't. One look at Charlie's face, and I knew he wasn't focusing on his essay. Definitely not when he sat straddling the bench to face me, with his elbow resting on the table, head resting on his palm and eyes fixated on my face. The fireplace roaring behind us bathed him in golden light. He looked so beautiful then, that I wanted to tell him that. I held my tongue knowing he wouldn't appreciate the comment and would tease me to no end.

"What?" I asked. With him looking at me that way, in a way that was becoming more and more frequent, I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Thankfully, I could blame it on the fire behind us.

His eyes met mine and I could have sworn they softened further. Not that I'd thought that was possible. Charlie shook his head, smiling knowingly. "Nothing."

"Stop it you." Clearing my throat, I shifted in my seat and tried to turn my attention back to the part completed essay. "You need to pay attention, this is important for your essay."

He reached out a hand to push some hair behind my ear. Did he notice the way my breathing hitched? "I won't need Arithmancy to work with dragons, Ingham."

"You're right," I agreed, shifting my eyes to his face, "But you need the grades to get accepted onto the training programme after school."

My voice trailed off, falling silent when Charlie's thumb trailed out from behind my ear, down my cheek until he was cupping the side of my face in a warm palm. I drew in a soft breath, searching his eyes as his thumb traced my lower lip. I read the intent in his eyes before he moved. My eyes flickered shut in silent consent. He didn't keep me waiting long.

Charlie lowered his head and closed the space between us, taking my bottom lip between both of his and kissing me softly. It was so soft that I'd almost missed it. He drew back just as quickly. My eyes opened, finding his face still so close to mine.

"We shouldn't have done that," Charlie said quietly, still cradling my face. "We're friends."

"We're friends," I agreed, knowing this was complicating our friendship. And yet, I didn't think we'd been simply friends for a very long time.

My eyes flickered to Charlie's lips again and that was it. He was closing the space between us again, kissing me once more. There was no mistaking this one. I lifted my head, returning the kiss eagerly and drawing back.

"We definitely shouldn't have done that," Charlie said, grinning widely and sounding no part remorseful.

"Definitely not," I echoed back with a smile that matched his.

But things were never that simple. Those few kisses were as far as things had ever gone and we'd reverted back to a more strained friendship. And months later, after months of waiting for Charlie to make a move or signify in some way that he wanted me to make a move, Bradley asked me to Hogsmeade. I accepted the offer.

"Are you going to open yours?" Charlie asked, drawing me from my thoughts. He gestured to my letter.

"Eventually."

He accepted my answer at face value and lingered a little longer as if waiting for me to change my mind. I didn't. Eventually, Charlie reluctantly rose to his feet, saying it was time for him to return to the Burrow. Before he left, he offered me a reassuring smile and reminded me that he was only a short message away, if I needed him. I thanked Charlie and watched him leave.

Finally left alone, I gave in to my urge and reached for the letter. I'd refused to open it in Charlie's presence. Charlie unknown to him, had always been the other man in my marriage to Bradley and it felt wrong to involve him in this last moment with my husband. Even if I hadn't actually wanted him to go. Opening the envelope with quick fingers, I drew out the letter and held it with slightly trembling fingers.

Steeling myself, I started at the beginning, hearing Bradley's voice echo in my mind as if he was reading it out to me. Raw emotion clogged my throat and I swallowed forcefully, trying to keep everything at bay. It was a simple letter, a love letter, an apology from a man who had meant so much to me.

Once I reached the end, I folded it in half with unsteady fingers. Taking a deep breath, I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling, trying and failing to stop the tears from seeping out from behind my tightly clasped eyelids. I missed him. Despite it all, I missed Bradley; I missed the best friend he had once been.

**********

I felt like a stranger, sitting here in the front room of a home that had once felt like my second home. The Burrow had been the backdrop to the summers of my school years, and yet at some point, it had stopped being that. It had faded from my life and now that I was once more sitting in the front room, with a babe clutched in my lap, I didn't know what to do. The room buzzed with dozens of redheaded witches and wizards, all chattering and laughing and I didn't know how to contribute.

Grief was a strange thing. It had me accepting one of Mrs Weasley's countless offers, just so I could get out of my home, to get away from grieving the friend I had once had. And yet now, as I sat surrounded by the extended Weasley family, I found myself partially grieving the other friend I'd partly lost all those years ago.

A hand, tiny and slightly sticky, touched my cheek, drawing me from my thoughts. Smiling softly, I peered down at Victorie who was settled in my lap, blonde ringlets framing her head. The young girl, having been deposited in my lap by her grandmother, hadn't protested at being held by a stranger and instead curled her arms around my neck, holding me tight. Even now, as she brought her other hand to my face, she giggled.

"Okay, okay," I said softly, catching one of her hands in mine before she could reach for my earrings, "I get the hint, I'll stop being such a grump."

Victoire let out another melodious giggle, one that had me smiling again. Bouncing her gently on my knees, I listened absentmindedly to her babbling; it was as if she was trying to say something and I was content to listen to her ramblings. My eyes lifted from her briefly, searching the room for one of her parents, just in case she needed something.

I found her father, tucked away in the corner and I couldn't help the way my mood dipped slightly. He stood, shoulder to shoulder with his younger brother, both speaking quietly to one another, with words meant only to be shared amongst themselves. But I had heard them. When I'd been ushered into the room by Molly, I'd drifted past both brothers and heard whispered murmurings of Charlie's letter that had given me pause. Charlie, always one to know my inner thoughts, clocked onto my reaction and promptly escorted his older brother away. Before I could approach them, to know what they were discussing - as if I had any right to - Fleur had handed me her daughter, insisting she got to know her estranged aunt. Not that I understood how I was an aunt to the youngest member of the Weasley clan.

A soft call of my name drew me from my thoughts and I searched the room, finding Mrs Weasley who was steamrolling her way towards me. As if knowing she was on a mission, and grateful that they weren't the target, every member of her family moved out of the way. My hands held Victoire tighter, keeping the girl secure but using her partly as a human shield. I wasn't ready for her incessant questioning, and I knew from history alone, that if she wasn't satisfied with the answer I gave her, Mrs Weasley would continue to probe. I wasn't sure I could handle that today. Not when I had so little time to brace myself in preparation.

But my worries proved unnecessary. Charlie, always appearing whenever I needed him, was at my side in a heartbeat. Silently, he stood before me, blocking my view of his mother and reached out for his niece. He plucked Victoire from my lap with gentle hands and handed her off to the nearest member of his family who, startled but not protesting, clutched the youngest Weasley to their chest.

"Charlie-" I started questioningly, only to trail off when he reached out again, this time grasping my hand and drawing me to my feet with an insistent tug.

"Don't worry," he assured me with a little wink, drawing me after him as he made his way through the room. He spoke from over his shoulder, "You know I'll always be there to rescue you."

"You fancy yourself a real superman, don't you?" I asked dryly, as I let him lead me up the stairs. I knew from memory alone that we were headed to his bedroom.

"Superman?" Charlie asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Don't worry about it." I waved my hand dismissively, as we reached his room. He released my hand then, and I settled onto the edge of his bed, watching as he shut the door. "It's a muggle thing."

"I'll take your word for it."

Silently, I watched as Charlie walked around his bedroom, picking up bits and pieces as he went, trying to straighten up the room. My eyes lingered on him, but only until I swore I could feel my heart begin to ache, and then I turned away. Glancing at his bedside table, I focused instead on the photo album, perching precariously on the edge, looking like it would tumble over at the slightest of nudges.

I reached out a hand, ready to push it so it was less likely to fall, but instead, I picked it up. Opening it in my lap, I smiled softly down at the picture that greeted me. It was the three of us, standing side by side in our Hogwarts uniform on the final day of our first year. The younger versions of us grinned up at me with chubby cheeks. Smiling faintly, I flickered through the large album that catalogued our school years. I watched as we grew with every subsequent picture.

My hands came to a halt as I found myself looking down at a picture, as innocent as every one before it, and yet, I couldn't look away. Not at a younger version of myself, tucked effortlessly into the arms of a ruddy-cheeked and grinning Charlie who had helped his team get a much-needed victory. The heat of his hand, holding me steady at the hip, had seared me to the spot back then and even now, the memory of it had a lion's grip on my heart. Now that I truly gave it some thought, it had been the beginning of everything.

Pushing all the resurfaced affection down, I closed the album with a gentle snap and returned it to its previous spot. Only this time I pushed it a little further in, so it was no longer resting precariously on the edge. Charlie reached my side then, sitting a short distance from me. I wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, but I didn't. I couldn't.

Instead, I held his eyes as they watched me steadily. They shone slightly, just as warm as they'd always been. A long time ago I'd believed I could read his eyes, and it was that belief that had made me think that maybe... maybe we would progress beyond those kisses. But I'd learned my lesson. I couldn't read his eyes and it was just wishful thinking that had me believing he was watching me with unspoken affection.

Forcing myself to speak first, I feigned a warning smile, "I swear, if you even think about asking me how I am, I will hex you. Helga help you, Charlie, I'll do it."

"I don't doubt it," he assured me with a soft chuckle. "That's why I'm not going to ask you."

"Good."

We settled into a short silence, which he broke with a question, "So, when are you going to come to visit me in Romania?"

The question threw me. I'd expected him to return, of course I did; Romania was his home now, and yet, the prospect of it still settled uncomfortably in my stomach. My eyes searched his features, seeking some answer without having to ask the question. I didn't trust my voice to hold steady if I asked it. But, like I knew there would be, there would be no answer in his face. Even if his earnest eyes did hold true.

So I asked, regardless, hoping my voice didn't tremble. I succeeded, but only because my question was a murmur, "When are you going back?"

"Probably soon," he answered through a heavy sigh, rubbing his palms on his thighs. Before I could point out that it wasn't much of an answer, Charlie shifted one leg onto the bed, turning his body to face me. His hands reached out, stopping just short of reaching for one of mine. "But I won't be there for long. A reserve in Wales has asked me to be the Head Dragonologist and I'm going to take it. It's time I come back home."

"Why would you do that?" I asked, unable to hold his eyes. Instead, my eyes were focused on his hands which remained so close to my own. "I thought you wanted to get as far away from home as possible"

"I feel like I have a reason to come back home." I looked at him then, drawing in a soft breath when I felt a single digit reach out and brush against the back of my hand before disappearing again. "Maybe mum is right and it's time I settled somewhere."

I was robbed of my words, unsure of what I wanted to say. There were a million questions I wanted to ask him, but I didn't dare verbalise a single one. Especially not the most prominent one; if something had happened all those years ago, would he have settled down by now? Would it have been me?

**********

Despite all of my protests, Mrs Weasley had somehow convinced me to spend the night in an all too familiar guest bedroom. She insisted that it didn't matter that my home was an extremely short floo journey away, that I simply had to stay the night, especially since it had been so long since I'd last visited. I wasn't sure when I'd agreed, or if I had even agreed before Charlie was marching me to the guest bedroom, following the strict orders of his mother. And when I woke early the next morning, it took me a moment to remember quite where I was. But, as I stared up at the ceiling, I slowly remembered.

Turning onto my side, I glanced at the clock; it was very early and from memory alone, I knew that very few of the occupants of this home would be awake at this time. Not even the matriarch who made a point of waking early to prepare breakfast. Sitting up, I sat on the edge of the mattress and stretched my arms over my head.

Standing slowly, I went for the clothes I'd taken off last night and picked them up contemplatively. I would've liked a fresh pair of clothes, but it would have to do until I could floo home. It was hardly like I could walk around the Burrow wearing my makeshift pyjamas - an old shirt that Charlie had loaned to me for the night.

Changing out of Charlie's shirt, and pretending that I didn't already miss his scent, I readied myself for the day. Tying my hair out of my face, I made my way downstairs with gentle steps, making sure not to make any sounds. It was strange how quickly everything came back to me, how surely I knew to skip over specific planks of the floorboard because they creaked, on my path down to the kitchen. I'd help Mrs Weasley prepare breakfast and then when she was busy rushing around, I'd slip out before she could realise it. And well, if I contemplated leaving without at least greeting the older witch, I was certain I'd have hell to pay.

As I reached the bottom floor, my steps slowed even further at the hushed whispers coming from the front room. My feet drew to a halt outside of the room, and I strained my ears, wondering if this was a conversation that I shouldn't have heard, or whether it was whispered solely because of the time of day. If it was the former, I would head back upstairs.

It was Bill's voice that I made out first, as he whispered to one of his siblings. I cast a glance at the nearest clock, checking the time again. It must have been important to have him floo'ing from his family home so early in the morning. Charlie's voice returned the whisper and I turned on my heels, ready to leave the two brothers to their secret conversation when they mentioned a third name - Bradley. Just like that, I was rooted to the spot as I listened to them speak in a coded manner, mentioning the letter Charlie had received, the idea of Charlie's planned relocation. I struggled to make out clear details of what was being said and strained to hear Bill warn Charlie to think about what he wanted, irrespective of what his letter said.

Heart falling into my stomach, I turned quickly once more, unable to listen anymore. I made quick steps to creep back upstairs, careful not to make a sound and returned to the safety of the guest room. Shutting the door behind me, I remained pressed against it, listening out carefully. My mind buzzed, running a million miles an hour as I tried to make some sense of the fragmented conversation that I managed to piece together. Something was going on, something that might have had something to do with me and I wanted to know.

Faintly, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps, followed by the gentle opening and closing of a door across the hallway; Charlie had returned to his bedroom. I took in a deep breath, steadying myself to do - well, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. But still, I forced myself forward.

Opening the door once more, I crossed the short space to Charlie's bedroom and knocked twice. There was a short pause before he opened the door, peering down at me in surprise. My name left his lips as a soft question, as he searched the corridor with careful eyes, before stepping aside and ushering me into the room. I waited until he shut the door behind him. Reaching into my pocket, I drew out my wand and cast a silencing charm.

"Something tells me you want to discuss something serious." He crossed his arms, resting his back against the door. Charlie watched me with apprehensive eyes.

"It could be serious," I admitted, tucking my wand away again. I drew my hands together behind my back, wringing them where he couldn't see. The last thing I needed was for him to see a visual indicator of my anxiety. "I want to see that letter Bradley left you."

Charlie said nothing, lifting his head to hold my eyes. I raised my chin slightly, keeping my gaze steady and hoping not to falter. It was difficult when I wanted nothing more than to evade his eyes. He always knew my innermost thoughts and giving him my gaze so head on, would just make that even worse for me. But I needed to appear sure of myself, even if I was anything but.

When he still said nothing, I repeated, "I want to see the letter Bradley left you."

"I heard you the first time, Ingham." Charlie let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a tired hand over his face, "But it's not for you to see."

"I know I can't force you to show me, Charlie, but if there's anything in there about me, I'm entitled to know it." He continued to watch me steadily, and I faltered, my pretence of surety faded as quickly as I'd put it on. Softly, I asked, "Please, Charlie?"

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't agree, he certainly didn't look like he would agree. He continued to watch me with silent eyes before he sighed once more. Charlie pushed himself away from the door, crossed his room with large steps and reached for his bookshelf. He drew out the thickest tome, opened the cover and retrieved the envelope. He hesitated as if weighing the decision in his head before replacing the book in its place. He outstretched the envelope towards me.

"If you want it, Ingham, come and get it because I'm not giving it to you."

Frowning, I closed the space between us and plucked the letter from between his fingers. I allowed myself the shortest second of indecision, before drawing the parchment from inside the envelope. Unfolding it with trembling fingers, I looked over it with disbelieving eyes. It was short, far shorter than the letter Bradley had left me, but it still hit me all the same. I wasn't sure how it made me feel; whether it was hurt, frustration or annoyance, or a combination of them all. Part of me was certainly angry, angry that I was beyond used to manoeuvre the man I cared about in this way.

I focused on that anger for now, just until I could properly make sense of my emotions. The letter, in its few words, asked Charlie for his forgiveness, asking him to look after me. Was that why he was planning on moving? Of upending his entire life? Because I was someone that somehow needed looking after? As if I hadn't always looked after myself?

SIghing sharply, I asked, "How dare the pair of you try to decide what's good for me? To try to look after me?"

He started, surprised at my words. Charlie took an aborted step towards me, halting when I raised my hand warningly, "What?"

"I'm an adult Charlie, I can look after myself so don't think about trying to look after me."

His frown deepened further, "What the hell are you talking about, Ingham?"

"Your life is in Romania, go back to it and leave me to mine." He closed the space between us then, no longer kept at bay, and grasped my hand so easily in his.

He held my hand steady, even when I put my hand on top of his. Charlie's glorious eyes searched mine, speaking all the things he had never verbalised. He didn't say any of them. Instead, he said, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe not," I agreed, drawing my hand away from him. I clasped both of my hands in front of me, keeping them as close to me as I could because if he reached for me again if he held me again, I knew I wouldn't stay firm. But I had to. "Don't leave it all behind Charlie, not for me."

**********

Eventually, things had to change. No matter how difficult the prospect of it was, I had to start packing away Bradley's things and slowly, bit by bit, remove his existence from our small shared home. It was a jarring experience, stripping away the remnants of him with each part hurting more than the bit before. He had, at one point, been one of my dearest friends, and it was the friend that I still grieved. I would wear this grief like a badge of our friendship.

Sealing yet another box of Bradley's clothes shut, I levitated it to follow after me as I walked to the front room. Entering the room, I magicked the box to rest in the corner, with the rest of the belonging that I'd already packed. My eyes briefly flickered over the few boxes, wondering what I would do with them when I glanced sharply towards the floo as it activated loudly.

Turning to face the fireplace, I watched with surprise as Charlie stepped effortlessly out into the room. He dusted off his trousers and glanced around the room.

Even before his eyes landed on me, I asked, "What are you going here?"

Charlie's eyes settled on me at last and, as if it was completely normal for him to turn up here unannounced, he crossed the space between us. "You weren't answering my owls."

"And you'd think that would've given you all the hints you needed," I said dryly.

He sighed sharply at my words and I watched, silently, as, before my very eyes, Charlie metaphorically removed his kid gloves. His jaw clenched harshly as he studied me and I was glad for it. I was sick and tired of being treated with kid gloves, especially by him.

"What exactly is your problem?" he demanded. His hands twitched at his side like he wanted to grab me and shake me - like he did when he'd fished me out of the Black Lake after I'd been dared to - but he was stopping himself. "Why am I getting the flack for what that letter said when I didn't even write it?"

"Because you're going to run to do Bradley's bidding!" I exclaimed, wanting to throw my arms in frustration. But I didn't. The last thing I needed was for him to tease me that I was known for overdramatic mannerisms. "You're ready to leave Romania to do what? To look after me? You can't do that!"

Charlie pitched forward at my exclamation then, crossing the space between us in a single step. He was resolute, "You don't get to tell me what to do Ingham, no one does."

"But-"

He barrelled on as if I hadn't said a word. "I want to move back home, I want to be here. I've spent years away from you, Ingham - years, feeling like I was dying inside every fucking day because I couldn't be here, and I couldn't sit by and watch as you lived your life married to a man who couldn't treat you the way you should've been treated."

The earnest eyes staring back at me were enough to make me falter. I watched Charlie as he watched me, waiting for me to say something. All I could manage was a strangled, "What?"

"I want to move closer to home," he said firmly, "To you. And I'm going to do it regardless of anything you say, so don't just ice me out because I plan on sticking around. I'm not sure what regard you'll have me, but I'll be here."

I gave a warbled call of his name, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of everything to catch up. It was too much, too soon. It was everything I'd wanted and it had come at such a difficult time.

"I'm not going to push anything," he said as if he could read my mind. "I'll wait as long as you want me to. And if you ever decide to want me back..."

He didn't need to complete the rest of the sentence. Not when I was certain I knew what he wanted to say. And certainly not when I already knew the answer. Still, I couldn't bring myself to talk, just in case, if for the slightest chance, I got things wrong. All I could do was nod, just once.

"Right then." He cleared his throat, gesturing to the boxes behind me, "Let me help you do some packing."

I could only look at him without saying a word, unsure of how everything had been spun on the head in this manner. But it had, the situation had changed now, and I nodded, a tad uncertainly but it was all Charlie needed. He pushed the sleeves of his jumper up his forearm and beelined towards the once guest bedroom that had turned into Bradley's permanent bedroom. Charlie worked in mostly silence, packing away all of Bradley's belongings and making the occasional comment now and then. If he felt the way I continued to shoot looks in his direction, he said nothing. He didn't even acknowledge it. I couldn't decide if I was thankful or not.

It was dark by the time we'd finished packing all of Bradley's things away in boxes that now lined the front room wall and I couldn't bare to send Charlie back home to the Burrow. It was a short floo journey away, one that would take a minute at most, and yet, I asked if he'd like to stay. Charlie gave it some thought but eventually conceded before making for the sofa once more. This time I offered Charlie the spare bed, hoping that he slept well; a good night's sleep was the least I could offer him after he'd helped me through such a tiresome day.

And yet, I couldn't leave him be. Despite knowing that I should have left him in peace, I couldn't. I tried to talk myself out of it, even as I left my bedroom and crossed the short space between the rooms. But it was no use. I wanted to give in, just once. For the first time in years, I wanted to concede to my urges instead of burying them deep inside me before they could ever see the light of day.

Bracing myself outside of the guest bedroom, I stared apprehensively at the closed door. I could just turn back around, right now as if I hadn't moved at all. But I didn't. My hand lifted without any conscious thought and I knocked gently against the door. I dropped my hand down to my side and waited. I'd let myself wait just a little longer and then I'd return to my bedroom as if it hadn't happened to begin with. Just as I prepared to turn back around, the door opened and Charlie, hesitant and surprised, looked back at me with sleep-filled eyes.

"Sorry," I said instantly, turning and prepared to leave, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," he assured me, even if I could see the sleep still in his eyes. As I turned to head back, he stepped forward and easily grasped my wrist, holding me captive without needing to put any pressure. His touch had always been able to ground me. When I lifted my eyes to his, he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Honestly?" I started quietly, knowing I could easily say that nothing was wrong. But I didn't want to do that. "I just haven't been sleeping well."

"I can tell," he said with a sigh. Charlie's free hand reached out and traced a calloused thumb against my lower lids that I knew had darkened from my sleeplessness. "Anything I can do?"

It was yet another opportunity to turn away, to say nothing. I could tell him that I'd just get myself some chamomile tea and head back to bed, but I didn't. Instead, before I could second guess myself, I spoke aloud my most current desire.

"Could you rub my back for me until I fall asleep?"

He stared silently at me for a second before asking with a hint of a smile, "Like all those times you snuck into the common room because you couldn't sleep?"

Just that hint was enough to have the corner of my lips turning up. "Please."

"Lead the way." Charlie released my hand, gesturing for me to go first. I took the cue, listening out as he walked with steady paces behind me. "I still haven't figured out how you managed to get into the dorm room without being caught."

"What can I say? Hufflepuffs can be sneaky."

"I'll take your word for it."

Walking into my bedroom, I clambered onto the bed and climbed under the covers. Lying on my side, I watched as Charlie approached the bed, "I snuck into your dorm countless times, didn't I?"

"You did," Charlie acknowledged as he came to a stop beside the bed.

He hesitated, searching my face before sitting on the edge of the bed. His cautious eyes held mine, like he expected me to change my mind, to chicken out at any moment. Charlie was always so careful with me, always so wary to take the next step that I wanted to reach out and shake him. But I didn't.

"Charlie?" At my soft call of his name, he shot to his feet, looking ready to go running out of the room at the slightest hint that it was what I wanted. "Wait, please. Can you lie down as well?"

He remained standing, stock still, as if he couldn't understand what I'd said to him. Folding the corner of the duvet back, I waited for him to make up his mind. I'd already asked him onnce and now the decision remained in his hands. It was ultimately his choice what he decided to do nad I wouldn;t hold it against him, no matter what it was.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Charlie settled into the bed beside me. I expected him to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling and keeping me at arms length. Instead, he turned on his side to face me, wrapping his arms around my side and drawing me into his chest. His hand, gentle and warm, rubbed soothingly in large circles on my back. Tucking myself more securely against his chest, I let out a deep breath - it was a breath I felt like I'd been holding for years - and felt myself relax for the first time since things had started to go downhill.

We stayed like that in silence and I let the repetitive soft motions start to lull me to sleep. My eyes grew heavy and I burrowed my nose against Charlie's neck. Distnatly, I heard him swallow thickly. There was a gentle pressure on my forehead, almost reminiscent of a kiss, but I couldn't be certain.

"If I had been the one to ask you," Charlie started so softly that I forced myself to concentrate to make out what he was saying, "if I had beaten Bradley to it and I hadn't chickened out, would you have said yes?"

"Of course I would have." My answer, although sleep filled, was honest. It was a question I'd hoped to answer at some point in my life. "I'd spent months waiting for you to ask me out, Charlie."

"I guess I lacked my Gruyffindor bravery back then." His arm tightened around me, before saying solemnly, "But not anymore."

Sleep was rapidly approaching me, but I had one more thing I needed to say, "Charlie?" He made a soft sound of acknowledgement, sounding halfasleep also. "Stay, please."

I hoped it was obvious that I wasn't talking about tonight only.

"Of course I'll stay."

He did.

**********

2 YEARS LATER

It took longer than I'd thought for my new flat to start feeling like home. It was smaller than my last flat, but it suited me better, I certainly didn't need all of the excessive space, but I still felt the gnawing absence of a much-missed presence. Some part of me thought that the flat wouldn't feel like home until I didn't spend a night alone. Not that I would have to wait for long until then. Charlie would be here soon and there was still so much left to do.

Rushing through the flat like I had an angry kneazle on my heels, I picked up the clothes I'd strewn around in my haste to find a suitable outfit. I didn't know why I bothered when I'd settled for wearing comfortable pyjamas anyway. There was just no point in trying; Charlie would tease me if it was obvious that I'd put effort into getting ready and well, I couldn't stand by and let him tease me.

After returning the clothes to their right place, I made my way to the front room and searched it with quick eyes. It was clean and tidy, by my standards at least - there was no telling with the ridiculously high standards of cleanliness Charlie possessed - but I still couldn't help but think something was missing. I glanced contemplatively at the scented candles dotted around the room; did I bother lighting them? Or would that just be giving Charlie more cannon fodder to tease me?

Helga, who cared if he teased me? He'd find something to tease me about, regardless, he always had. And I liked having scented candles burning.

... Besides, what was wrong with putting in effort when it concerned the boyfriend you hadn't seen in over a month? I struggled not to smile giddily; I was a grown adult, and yet even thinking about the title boyfriend and attaching it to Charlie of all people, had me over the moon.

Lighting the candles with a murmured spell, I turned to head into my bedroom, wanting to grab a jumper, when the floo activated, stopping me short. My eyes darted to the clock, ready to wonder at how quickly time had flown. Except, it hadn't flown. He was just very, very early. Not that I was complaining.

Expectantly, I turned to face the floo in time to see Charlie clamber out of the fireplace, looking every bit as beautiful as the day I'd seen him off to the reserve. It struck me full force, right in the middle of my chest in all its power; I'd missed him so desperately that it felt like I hadn't breathed properly since I'd last seen him. But now, now I had seen him and my lungs grasped greedily at the air.

I barely gave him time to straighten up as he came out into the front room before I was crossing the space between us with quickened paces, preparing to launch myself into his arms. He spotted my approach, opening his arms in a heartbeat and catching me, curling his arms around me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I burrowed my nose into the curve of his shoulder and took breathed his scent in so deeply that my lungs sang. His arms tightened around me before growing slack again. Drawing back from him, I kept my arms wrapped around his neck as I searched his features, drinking them in again.

"You're early," I said, grinning as my fingers curled into the longer strands of hair at the base of his neck.

His grin matched mine. "I got impatient."

Laughing softly, I didn't protest when he drew me closer to him again. In fact, I went all too willingly towards him when Charlie's arms dropped to circle my hips, tightening slightly before he lifted me effortlessly so our heads were level. Lifted up like this, I could all too easily catalogue the colours rimming the black of his pupils. He really did have the most glorious eyes I'd ever seen.

I didn't get the chance to study his eyes as closely as I wanted to when they flickered shut and Charlie leaned in towards me. Closing my eyes, I waited as Charlie closed the distance between us and kissed me. He kissed me like he'd missed me just as much as I'd missed him like he'd been struggling to breathe without me too. I returned his kiss eagerly, losing myself in him for only a moment before Charlie was lowering me to the ground again.

When my feet were planted firmly again, my hands slid down to his chest. Craning my neck slightly, I kept my eyes on his face, not daring to look away from him in case he disappeared and was back in Wales in the blink of an eye. He dropped his head down, following my lips and pecking them repeatedly.

"Godric, I missed you," he murmured against my lips.

"It's been a month," I said, as if it wasn't far too long a period of time, as if I hadn't missed him tremendously.

"Too long," he said with an adamant shake of his head. "Thats far too long."

"I'll agree with you there." Struggling not to raise myself up to kiss him again, I glanced behind him and realised his bags were there. He must've dropped them before catching me. Charlie followed my eyes. "You didn't go back to the Burrow to see your mum?"

"Of course not," he said as if his mother wouldn't have a heart attack if she'd heard his words. "She can't exactly give me what I want right now."

"What-" My question was cut off halfway when Charlie bent down slightly, looping an arm around my knees and hoisting me over his shoulder. I shrieked in surprise, scrambling to grasp his shirt between tight fists so I didn't topple over. "Charles Septimus Weasley!"

He shifted me in his arms as if I was a sack of dragon feed that he had a secure hold on, and then he was off. Charlie made his way easily through the flat, crossing the short space to the bedroom and kicking the door shut behind him.

"There better not be a footprint on my door, or else you're going to be cleaning it up," I warned, spying my approaching bed.

Knowing what was coming, I screwed my eyes shut, bracing myself for impact. Sure enough, Charlie threw me onto the bed and before I had even stopped bouncing lowly on the mattress, he clambered on with me. Charlie crawled on top of me, pinning my hands back by my head when they shot out to tickle him. He manoeuvered me easily as if I hadn't tried to strain against him at all - which was mildly infuriating. Trapped under his arms, I stare back into his waiting eyes.

"Well?" I demanded without any heat, "Are you going to clean my door or what?"

He didn't answer me. Instead, Charlie leaned down and started peppering kisses along the slope of my neck. His stubble scratched lightly against my skin, making me shift a little. He didn't notice he was tickling me.

"There must be a reserve closer than Wales," Charlie protested in between his kisses.

"Wales is a lot closer than Romania," I pointed out, no longer able to hide my giggles. The stubble needed to go. 

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As always, let me know what you thought~

Now ... for the next one shot, which will be number 200, aka the last one in the book, I can't promise when it will be out. Just know that I'm hoping to have it out before the end of the  year. I'm also hoping to post it on the same day as I post the first one shot from the second volume of this book, so be sure to keep an eye out on that because there's plenty more one shots to come. I will post a little reminder about the second volume as well when the next one shot is posted. 

There's a single hint for the upcoming story (and it's extremely obvious); we close at the start.