25-Dec-07

Chapter 25

December 25, 2007

* * *

"All right, then – let's teach them a lesson," Annie said, beaming with devious anticipation.

"Happy anniversary, love," he replied in kind, kissing her hand. – George & Annie: An Unofficial Biography, Chapter 66

* * *

Charlie watched as the last flicker of emerald flames died in the enormous hearth of Mole Hill, signaling another departure. George and Annie's home had hosted half a hundred people that Christmas day in celebration of their tenth wedding anniversary. Originally intended to be a surprise party thrown by their dear friends, Angelina and Lee Jordan, in true George and Annie fashion, the two pranksters had ferreted out the secret, turned the thing on its ear, and surprised the surprisers to almost everyone's great amusement.

All the attendees were by now familiar with the dramatic tale of their marriage: young and impetuous and madly in love, they'd defied the Death Eater sham of a Ministry and married at the height of the Second War, a pureblood wizard and a lowly Muggle. Fewer people were acquainted with the full circumstances of the situation: namely, that Annie's grandmother, who'd raised her since infancy, had been on her deathbed at the time, and the secret ceremony had taken place in a hospital room in Ottery St. Catchpole, fulfilling the old woman's dying wish to see Annie settled in life. It was for this reason, Charlie knew, that Annie would be spending Boxing Day tomorrow visiting the local village cemetery, paying her respects to her Gran on her Death Day, as was her tradition.

After resisting the entire family's nagging and pestering of him for ages to celebrate Christmas in Devonshire, Charlie had finally relented five years ago and accepted George's invitation to stay at Mole Hill... and brought Sasha along for good measure. George's family had been so welcoming that he and Sasha had come back every year since. As chaotic as it was to be guests in a household of five rambunctious children, their stays at Mole Hill had been blessedly devoid of the sort chastisements Charlie had grown accustomed to when staying at the Burrow.

In fact, ever since his visit to Romania, George had made a point of expressing consistent support and vocal (albeit vague) defense both of Charlie's choice of vocation and his lack of matrimony, especially to their mother. Growing up, Charlie had always felt closest to Bill, but in the last few years, Charlie had grown far closer to George and his wife than any of the rest of the family. So much so that three years ago, after it had become patently clear they'd figured it out on their own already, he'd actually come out to them.

And what a relief it had been! The lifting of the onerous burden of secrecy had been nothing short of miraculous. George and Annie's blithe acceptance, fervent support, and frequent coaxing had inspired Charlie to share the news with his other siblings. Over the ensuing years, he'd gradually come out to the rest of his brothers and sister, the announcement generally meeting with little surprise – while Ginny, Bill, and Percy all confessed to have had prior inklings, Ron had been utterly gobsmacked, to put it bluntly – but also loving, warm acceptance. So much so, in fact, that he'd begun to feel rather silly for having put it off for so long.

Only one bulwark of ignorance remained: Charlie had yet to inform his parents. "Never mind, you'll find the right time," George was fond of saying, but thankfully hadn't pushed the matter. And while Charlie knew his brother was right, knew also he had to tell his mother and father eventually, he just never seemed to find the right moment or the right words.

"I had a chance at going back out into the field this year, you know," Bill offered, drawing Charlie's attention back to the conversation. "Scrounging up treasure in the Yucatan this time," he added wistfully.

Bill, Percy, Charlie, and Sasha all stood in a small knot out of the way of the rest of the bustle. A platoon of young children was gathered around the table and breakfast bar, the rest of the adults fluttering about the business of getting them fed. Now that all the non-Weasleys had left, only thirty occupants remained, consisting of Arthur, Molly, their six children, spouses, grandchildren, and Sasha.

"Sounds brilliant! Why didn't you take it?" Charlie asked.

"Fleur wouldn't have it," Bill lamented. "Says the kids are too young for me to be gone so much." After a mournful sigh, he added, "She's probably right."

Charlie thought such a sacrifice of personal and professional fulfillment seemed a shame and a hell of a lot to ask, but he kept his opinion private. Unlike himself, Bill had a wife and three kids to consider in such decisions, after all. Nor could Charlie imagine growing up without his dad there at home every night and on weekends. He reckoned Bill likely owed that to his family, too. But he still exchanged a surreptitious look with Sasha that said, Glad we'll never have to bother about that, eh? Sasha's return glance agreed.

"Speaking of promotions... word in the Ministry is that Harry's due to make Head Auror within five years, possibly before the decade's out," Percy murmured.

Charlie's gaze found the subject of Percy's latest gossip sitting with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, each with small children in their laps, trying vainly to coax them to eat rather than play with their new Christmas toys or fascinating older cousins. "He's not even thirty yet!" Charlie spluttered quietly, wondering how Ron, a fellow Auror, would be taking his best mate's promotion when it came.

"Since when did common sense ever influence a Ministry appointment?" Bill snorted. "Those are mutually exclusive terms there, brother."

"I said it's definite, not imminent," Percy pointed out. "And our Harry's proving himself more than capable of the job."

"But he's only been a full Auror for, what, five years?" Charlie argued. "This goes a bit beyond fast-tracking a promising career, Perce."

"Borders on reckless pandering, if you ask me," Bill added. "Thought Kingsley was above this sort of rubbish."

"Regardless, short of a massive scandal in the interim, it's practically a done deal," Percy said. "Ministry Headships are very much about projecting an image of competence – that's inarguable – and Harry has the public's confidence and support right now. Kingsley's clever enough to use it to advantage. That's how good Ministers keep their positions. And if Harry manages to bungle something badly enough between now and then – the probability of which I highly doubt – then Kingsley will be perfectly justified in sacking him upon the altar of public hue and cry."

"I suppose there are worse blokes for the job," Bill granted grudgingly. "He's a good kid with a clever head on his shoulders and an honest heart, at least."

"Getting tired of being passed over in favor of the young upstarts already, you old fart?" Percy needled him.

"Fuck you," Bill grumbled. "Thirty-seven's hardly old!"

"Compared to your Goblin colleagues, perhaps," Percy teased. "I suppose you'll just have to slog through years more of sitting at your posh desk in your corner office wearing Tatting's finest dress robes to work. However will you cope?"

Bill mumbled something that sounded like, "Bloody Azkaban."

"Maybe Fleur will let you out to play when Louis starts school," Charlie jabbed, clapping his brother's shoulder and receiving a glaring smirk in return.

"If you behave properly in the meantime and ask nicely, that is," Sasha added, chuckling. "Speaking of young upstarts – your sister had a remarkable season this year," he offered. "Holyhead finished third in the standings this year, didn't they?"

Charlie grimaced at what was a sore subject to him. "Why in hell Harry let her play pregnant–" he began grumbling, only to be prevented from launching into a proper rant on such irresponsibility by Percy and Bill laughing. "What!?" he demanded.

"You have a remarkably antiquated understanding of how a spousal relationship operates," Percy chuckled.

"What makes you think Harry tells Ginny what to do?" Bill added, laughing.

"Since when has anyone been able to tell Ginny what to do?" Percy agreed.

Charlie conceded that their headstrong sister seldom listened to wisdom or reason when her mind was set. "Still, that was bloody dangerous," he muttered. As if on cue, Ginny stretched and scratched her now very swollen belly.

After the children's meals had been tended to and they'd returned to the upstairs rooms to play with each other's Christmas toys, the adults distributed themselves upon the living room furniture. A warm fire glowed in the huge hearth, the fairy-lit tree twinkled cheerily, and a brilliant moon illuminated the meadow on view outside the window-wall. The very youngest children had settled into their parents' or grandparents' arms and drifted off to sleep.

It was at this point that Percy brought out an obscenely old bottle of Ogden's – the Firewhiskey contained therein was older than their parents and likely cost more than Charlie earned in a month. Percy's got Cavendish tastes now, he thought a little uncharitably about the wealthy, ancient wizarding family his brother had married into. His wife, Audrey, was a nice enough lady, but it had been patently obvious all day how uncomfortable she'd been spending it here at the Hill, slumming with the over-exuberant peasants.

When everyone but Ginny had been handed a glass, Arthur raised his. Beaming proudly down upon his prodigious family, he offered, "To our darling Annie and George, whose marriage we celebrate today has singlehandedly produced one-third of our grandchildren!"

A round of "Hear, hear!" and laughter followed. Charlie quickly checked the math in his head, and realized his father was almost accurate – George and Annie had birthed five out of the fourteen-member new generation, not including the one gestating in Ginny's belly at the moment.

"The pleasure of that was all Annie's, I assure you," George quipped with his patented devilish grin, then grunted when his wife's sharp little elbow caught his ribcage.

"I only wish I'd had your school to ship mine all off to, Annie, dear," Molly added, shooting a glare at her vulgar son before taking a dainty sip of Firewhiskey.

"Yes, they might've been properly civilized, then," Fleur twittered.

While Molly made a point of laughing charitably, the rest of the family smiled weakly at the jibe, only just willing to give Fleur the benefit of the doubt and not take offense at her misguided attempt at a joke. Except for Ginny, that is, who scowled at her least favorite family member.

"That pleasure is indeed all mine, Molly," Annie replied warmly, most likely in an effort to redirect. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Charlie gave his sister-in-law a tilt of his head in admiration. I stare down dragons every day, but I'd never survive an hour doing what she does, he recognized. The thought of wrangling a great herd of children all day long, most of them not even her own, struck dread in his gut. But brave Annie had taken her daycare a step further, transforming it into a proper school and trying to cram real knowledge in their snotty, whinging little heads. Made of stronger stuff than me, she is.

Ron perceptively filled the last remnants of an awkward void with another toast. "Here's to Annie, who's somehow managed beyond all odds to keep George out of the clink thus far."

"A minor miracle, certainly," Percy added.

"I resemble that remark!" George spluttered for comic effect.

"May your lucky streak continue, old girl," Charlie chimed in above the laughter.

Another round of drinks were downed before Harry took the floor. With little Albus draped over his shoulder, fast asleep and drooling on his jumper, he raised his glass. By his expression, everyone could tell this would be a serious rather than humorous toast.

"As a younger fellow, I didn't have many functional adult relationships around me to learn the trick of how it's done. If I'm any kind of husband and father–" Harry paused, smiling wryly as James howled in protest about something from upstairs, "–and this is debatable, as evidenced by my offspring..." The group laughed, then he continued, "But if I've managed the business in the slightest, I reckon it's due in no small part to all of you, but especially you, George and Annie. You've shown us all that with a ferocious dedication to each other and a sense of humor, a marriage can survive anything the world can throw at it, including children."

"Well said, Harry," Percy cheered, offering his glass.

Ginny smiled warmly at her husband before turning her smile onto the couple of the moment. "Well, I suppose I have you two to thank for my wedded bliss, then," she said, absently stroking her belly.

"Gah," Bill pretended to retch, while Ron and George jammed their fingers in their ears, humming to distract themselves.

Hermione rolled her eyes at their immature antics, then presented her glass. "To Annie and George, may the decades to come bring you even more joy than the first one has done."

No one could improve upon her sentiment, so the glasses were drained in silence. Fleur and Percy gathered them up, gently sending them aloft across the room to lightly settle themselves into the kitchen sink.

"Now, Charlie, just you take a good look at all this around you," Molly started in on him with a scolding tone. "Have you done anything yet about–"

"Ah, Mum, give it a rest for once," Bill chided her, scowling weakly.

"Well, it was a nice moment, there for a moment," Ron grumbled, patting Hermione on the knee and smiling wryly. "I thought your toast was very nice, love." His wife smiled gratefully back.

"You two seem to think you've got all the time in the world," Molly said, ignoring the rest of them and fixing her slouching, delinquent quarry with an intent stare – the sort that used to make Charlie's guts squirm in anxiety whenever he'd done something wrong as a boy.

"Oh, Molly, not now," Annie pleaded softly.

"But I'm going to tell you what no one else here will," Molly announced like a prophetess of yore, ignoring everyone's pleas. "If you're not careful, you're going to end up old and bitter and alone!"

"For Christ's sake, leave him be, Mum!" George thundered, leaping to his feet. "For bloody once in your life–"

"George!" Arthur spoke sharply, giving his son a warning look.

"This is my house, dammit," George muttered, refusing to sit back down but dropping his angry glare to the floor. "There's a reason he stays here instead of with you, and this is it."

"And he's my son," Molly said in a voice that was at once indignant and anxious. She turned almost pleading eyes to Charlie. "Why won't you listen to any of us? If you won't take my word for it, then listen to your brothers and sister. Just look at how happy they all are, Charlie! Don't you want the same thing?"

Charlie swallowed hard. It was excruciating to face his mother's gaze, but he forced himself to do it.

"I only want you to be happy, love," Molly insisted, employing the soft-yet-stern tone she'd used when discipline was about to be doled out.

"I am happy," Charlie answered, slightly hoarse. "Why won't you believe me?"

Molly skeptically pursed her lips. "I want you to find love, Charlie. All the success in the world means nothing without someone to share it with. You simply can't be happy without love, and I'll never believe you until then."

Charlie straightened up and took several steps toward his mother, which landed him in the middle of the small circle of his family. He hadn't envisioned doing this so publically – practically on a stage – but here he was. And he'd be damned if he suffered her scorn, her pity, or whatever other misguided emotion for another moment. "I found it, Mum. I am in love with someone."

"Ti mozhesh etogo ne delat'..." Sasha murmured, his voice deep and anxious. You don't have to do this...

Charlie glanced at him over his shoulder, just to make sure this wasn't Sasha's way of asking him not to. But Sasha's expression held no fear, only concern for him. "Pora," he replied softly. It's time.

In the meanwhile, Molly's face now lit up with pleasure. "Oh, Charlie! How wonderful! Who is she? When can we meet her?"

Aside from Molly's gushing, the only sound in the room was the fire crackling in the hearth. Charlie imagined everyone else was holding their breaths, waiting for him to light the fuse. He blinked, filled his lungs, and sparked it. "He."

After a long moment, Molly cocked her head slightly. "Pardon?"

"He, Mum. Not she. And you've known him for ages."

Molly's smile faded slightly in confusion. "I don't... follow." She looked at Arthur beside her, who only looked back blankly.

"It's Sasha, Mum," Charlie said, gesturing clumsily behind him to indicate his meaning more clearly. "He and I... I love him."

His mother's gaze darted over his shoulder at Sasha, then back again to him before it dropped a little, unfocused. "But... I... It's not...?" Molly stammered.

Charlie steeled himself for whatever horrified reaction would come next. "I'm gay, Mum," he said, his voice a little harder than he'd intended. "Do you understand?"

"Gay?" Molly echoed weakly, shaking her head slightly.

Charlie gritted his teeth. "It means I prefer–"

"I know what the word means, Charlie," Molly said abruptly, cutting him off. Her eyes began to well up with tears. "When?" she sniffed.

"What do you mean, 'when?'" Charlie asked.

"When did you...? How long have you...?" she stammered.

"I've known for a long time," Charlie confessed, turning to look at Sasha. "Nearly since we met."

"Years," she groaned in an agonized whisper, clutching at her husband's hand as he reached out to put an arm around her. "Years of secrets!"

Charlie couldn't fully smother his wince. She might as well have slapped him and shrieked, Liar!

She looked around at everyone else's faces. "And you all knew?" She sucked in a horrified breath with the realization she'd been the last to learn the awful truth. "Oh, you all knew!" The tears began to roll down her face. "Oh, Annie! That night in the tent years ago, when you warned me to hold my tongue... Is this what you meant?"

"It's not anyone else's fault, Mum," Charlie insisted. "It wasn't their place to tell you. It was mine. Blame me."

"Blame you? Blame you?" she spluttered. Her eyes darted toward Sasha.

"No!" Charlie declared, his sharp tone causing her gaze to snap back to him. "Not for that. I am the way I am, and no one's to blame. Not you or Dad. Not Sasha. It just is." He knelt before her, watching her hands in her lap, opening and closing in mute shock, knowing the death knell was unavoidable now. Might as well get it over with. "I'm never getting married, Mum. I'll never have a family. And I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to you."

"Oh, Charlie," Arthur sighed tiredly, shaking his head slowly.

"Disappointment?" Molly frowned.

"I know you hate everything about what I do," Charlie muttered. "You hate where I live. You hate my job, what I've done with my life. Nothing I do measures up."

"No, Charlie," she whispered. "That's not true!"

"Isn't it?" Charlie snorted. He took a deep breath. "I wish I could convince you that I'm happy. I wish my happiness could be enough for you." He shrugged, at a loss to continue. "I'm sorry."

Molly reached out for his hand. "No, I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm so sorry I made you feel this way... That I could ever be disappointed in you... That you couldn't tell me the truth!"

"I'm not ashamed of anything," Charlie explained. "I just didn't want to worry you any more than you already were. I didn't want to hurt you any worse than you'd already been. Especially after Fred..." Charlie had to pause as his throat nearly closed, unable to finish his sentence.

"You compare this with Fred's death?" Molly cried softly. "Oh, Charlie!" She gathered him up to her bosom, stroking his hair like she'd done when he was a child. "Oh, my Charlie! No! No!" She held his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs as her eyes and face glittered with tears. "This is not a loss! You live! You love! You are my son, and no matter what, I will always love you!"

"But you're disappointed," Charlie pressed, "that I'll never be like the rest of them." He jerked his head in everyone else's general direction.

"Oh, love, I admit I'm disappointed for you – that you'll never know the kind of joy in having a family of your own like your father and I have done – but I'm not disappointed in you," Molly argued tearfully. "Charlie, love, I'm... I'm so proud of you! Of all you've accomplished! As proud of you as I am of all my children! And I'm gutted that you'd ever think otherwise."

"That goes for both of us, son," Arthur added softly.

Charlie looked into his father's wrinkled, smiling face. Warm and serene, Charlie found comfort in his father's quiet acceptance, drew calm from his mild manner. But his father's wrath or heartbreak was never much in question.

Next, Charlie searched his mother's warm brown eyes... and finally saw it there, the sight he'd let himself forget, evidence of the thing he'd told himself she could never feel for him once she'd known the truth: love. He'd lived for so long convinced she could never understand, fearful of being yet another son responsible for breaking her heart, that he'd never let himself believe the outcome could be otherwise. But here she was with her arms around him, smiling lovingly back at him, and the last constrictive shackle that had bound his conscience all these years snapped apart with an almost audible twang. He was finally, totally free to be himself – with everyone who mattered.

Molly gazed deeply into her son's warm brown eyes – the ones that looked so much like her husband's – and a thought occurred to her. Tapping into the portion of mischievousness she'd inherited from Leander Prewett (which she'd passed on in substantially enhanced measure to George and Fred), she tweaked Charlie's nose.

Charlie jerked back, startled. "Mum!?"

"Charles Septimus Weasley, I ought to wring your neck," she scolded him playfully, delighting in the little gasp their audience gave. "Here I've been worried for years that you were rotting away with loneliness." She pursed her lips in mock irritation and looked at him askance, but she allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up in a smile, and knew the twinkle in her eye would give her away in a moment if it hadn't already. "And all this time, you've been happy as a gnome in a potato patch, haven't you? If you'd only told me you were in love from the beginning, you might've saved me all this trouble." She smoothed her skirt, then picked an invisible bit of lint from his shoulder.

"I suppose," Charlie chuckled, still in a bit of shock. "Sorry, Mum."

"Sorry, indeed," Molly huffed. "See that it doesn't happen again, you." Then she pulled him close for one more hug, kissed the top of his head, and tousled his hair. "Ah, you boys!" she sighed. "It's always something, isn't it, Arthur?"

"They've always been a handful, dear," Arthur agreed.

"Well, I'm glad that's over with," Ginny sighed theatrically. "Can we break out the leftover treacle tart now, Annie?"

Charlie turned around to face everyone else, noticing Ginny hastily wiping her cheeks. Several others had telltale glittering eyes, too. He stood up, his eyes linking with Sasha's, who was beaming back at him with an expression of pride and love that made Charlie's own heart soar.

"Is food all you ever think about, you great cow?" George laughed at his sister, attempting to diffuse the solemn mood in his typical way: with a teasing insult.

"You're one to talk," Annie countered, wickedly patting her husband's little pooch of a stomach.

"And I'm eating for two, so bugger off," Ginny grumbled.

"Language, Ginevra!" Molly snapped as the warmth of the family's laughter evaporated the last remnant of tension.

Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone who's read, and especially those of you who've reviewed, this story for your support and inspiration throughout its posting. In particular, special thanks belong to Feisanna, whose request for more of Charlie and Sasha's tale whilst reading George & Annie helped nudge me in this direction, and to Savva for all her generous help in hammering out the proper Russian phrases. So many of the admins and authors and readers here at TPP have helped mold me into the writer I am today, so I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all you've done!

FYI, I'm very excited to soon be releasing an original work of fiction, Old Enough to Know Better, about a fanfiction writer who falls for an actor who plays her favorite fictional character. It's a fun, steamy, dramatic contemporary romance that I hope you might like. The e-book will be available December 2011 on Smashwords, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble. It will also be available in printed form at CreateSpace.

If you're interested in learning more about this and other upcoming releases, including reading an excerpt, please visit my website, www.shanynhosier.com, and sign up to receive future newsletters.