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girlyswotThe last Secret Santa fic - of course, it's mine, since I got to read this ages ago when the 'mystery author' sent it to me. Thank you, Secret Santa, for knowing just what I wanted this Christmas. *happy grin*
Christmas . . . last Christmas had been a quiet and sad affair. Whilst George had tried to liven things up, and Percy had been present by choice for the first time in a while, and it had been the first Christmas since Voldemort’s final defeat, they still had not felt like celebrating. Not when they counted how many of their number were absent.
But this Christmas? Bill and Fleur were expecting a baby in six months. Ginny had finished at Hogwarts and just started flying for the Holyhead Harpies. Ron was working with George in the shop—while Harry tried to convince him to join him in Auror training. Percy was working for the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt. This Christmas promised to be better than last.
Charlie remembered all the Christmases in Romania, alone on the reserve. He wasn’t really alone, not with all the other dragon handlers and dragons around. But being away from family at Christmas is always lonely, even in a crowd. After the war, Molly insisted he transfer to a dragon reserve closer. She couldn’t bear to be separated from any more of her children. So for the last eighteen months, he’d been working in Scotland and living at the Burrow. Mum liked it that way.
Charlie sighed. Mum hadn’t been the same since Fred died. She was more protective, fiercer, more easily worried. She rarely smiled without a tear in her eye. As he thought about his mother, he handed the order for the dragon dung to one of the Hebridean Dragon Reserve’s apprentice handlers. Neville would be happy, and what were apprentices for if not to do the dirty work?
If he just had someone of his own. Maybe he wouldn’t spend so much time worrying about Mum. Sometimes he felt as if he were the only one besides Dad who did worry about her. But Dad was supposed to worry about Mum. His parents were a matched set. Charlie wondered when had he become a mother hen. Mum’s genes seemed to run true in him. Hard to believe considering the risks he took regularly in his job—as testified by the scattered scars along his well defined arms and chest and the one really bad one that went across his shoulder blade—but he seemed to be the Weasley most like his mum. Considering how Molly had single-handedly defeated Bellatrix Lestrange, being like her wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.. .
He checked his watch, wondering at how maudlin he was becoming. Almost time to be off.. He went to the front office and signed himself out. There was just enough time to slip into Hogsmeade before the shops closed to get his Christmas shopping done. Then he could visit Rosmerta’s for a meal and a few drinks.
He made sure he had plenty of gold in his pockets—well, plenty for a dragon keeper who was also a Weasley—and Apparated to Hogsmeade. He spent the next hour and a half shopping, mostly succeeding at finding things he thought everyone would like, or at least things they would laugh at.
He was just about to head into the Three Broomsticks, when he nearly tripped over a small cat mewling in the snow. “Hullo, what have we here?” He looked around for the cat’s owner, but he or she was nowhere to be found. The cat proceeded to weave herself in and out of his legs, purring manically. “Okay, let’s find out who you belong to.” He picked up the skinny calico and poked his head into the closest store. “Oi, ’scuse me, anyone lose a cat?” he asked.
“Lost? Hardly. I am glad you found her though. I had six of them to give away for Christmas. That one is the last. Guess she didn’t want to go to a Hogwarts student like the rest of them did. She slipped out first thing this morning.” Charlie looked up to see who went with the lyrical feminine voice. A short witch stepped out from behind the counter of the store. She had long chestnut brown hair, nearly black eyes, olive skin. She looked to be about twenty one or so . . . not much younger than he was. But it wasn’t until she smiled that he noticed how pretty she was. “I’ll take her,” she said, reaching out her arms. “Unless you want to keep her. She seems to like you.”
Charlie looked at the calico cat in his arms. She reminded him of the knitted poncho his mother wore. “What’s her name?” he asked, scratching her behind the ears. And yours, he thought.
“Her name is Harley—short for Harlequin. She’s the only calico of the lot. All the others were tabbies.” She smiled again at him, and he felt his heart do a double thump. Finally the witch put out her hand. “I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Alyssa Rossen. And you are?”
“Right, sorry. I’m Charlie Weasley.” Charlie looked around the shop, noting the curios and unusual items from around the world. “I never noticed this shop before. Is it new?” He wished he’d at least noticed the name.
“Yes. Mum and I just opened it a month ago. We hope International Curiosities does well. With the Christmas season, we’ve pulled in some new business.”
“You live here with your mother?” he asked.
“Yes, Dad was a Muggleborn. He became ill in Azkaban and never came home. Mum and I went to France until the war ended. Now we’re on our own.” Charlie’s heart sank. He’d heard these kinds of stories before, and they were all too common in post war Magical Great Britain.
“I’m sorry. I lost my brother and some good friends in the war too. Listen, I was just about to go to the Three Broomsticks for dinner. Would you like to join me?”
She smiled, then shook her head no. “Mum almost has dinner ready . . . but, you know, Mum hasn’t got used to cooking for two. She still makes enough for Dad. Why don’t you join us? You can have an easier time taking care of your cat here than in the Three Broomsticks anyway.”
My cat? Charlie held back a laugh. “Okay, I’d like that. Thank you.” Charlie spent an enjoyable dinner with Alyssa and Mrs Rossen. Alyssa’s smile melted him several times during the dinner. He did his best to make both Alyssa and her mother laugh.
They didn’t have the advantages of a large family to hold onto for support. He could see that was a blessing he needed to share. After a filling meal, pie for dessert, and five hands of cards—which resulted in a great deal of laughter, he picked up his purchases. “I need to get home. I was wondering if you would keep my cat until Christmas day, then I’ll give her to my mum. Of course, I would like you two to come over Christmas day and deliver the cat personally. It will be crowded, but we always have room for more.”
“You’re inviting us over to spend Christmas with your family?” Alyssa asked.
“Yes. Here’s the address.” Charlie wrote it on a slip of paper and handed it to her.
Mrs Rossen looked at Charlie appreciatively. “Thank you, Charlie. “Are you sure your mother wouldn’t mind? Hadn’t you better check with her first?”
“We have a big family. There is always room for more. I know Mum would invite you. Please, come.” He looked at Alyssa and let his warm brown eyes meet her dark ones in a silent plea. He wanted her there—and he knew it was where they should be too. His hand gently reached out and his fingers brushed hers.
Mrs Rossen caught the movement and looked at Charlie appreciatively before giving in. “Is there anything I should bring?” she asked.
“Mum’s an amazing cook, but if you want to bring a pie like you made for dinner, nobody will mind,” Charlie’s grin showed his dimples.
“As large as you describe your family, maybe I should bring several pies.” Mrs Rozzen shook Charlie’s hand, then disappeared into the with the cat.
Charlie was alone with Alyssa. This was his chance to make his intentions known—if his Gryffindor courage would not fail him. “Alyssa? Would you mind if I get to know you better? Er, I mean, we get to know each other better. I think you’re brilliant.” Charlie stepped in closer to her.
She reached up and touched his cheek, ever so lightly tracing her fingers over a faded scar. “I’d like to start spending time with you, Charlie.”
He reached down and let his lips brush across hers gently. “I’ll come back and see you in a couple days. Good night, Alyssa.” With that, he turned and headed back into the street, but there was a new spring in his step. Yes, this Christmas definitely promised to be better than the last.
Christmas . . . last Christmas had been a quiet and sad affair. Whilst George had tried to liven things up, and Percy had been present by choice for the first time in a while, and it had been the first Christmas since Voldemort’s final defeat, they still had not felt like celebrating. Not when they counted how many of their number were absent.
But this Christmas? Bill and Fleur were expecting a baby in six months. Ginny had finished at Hogwarts and just started flying for the Holyhead Harpies. Ron was working with George in the shop—while Harry tried to convince him to join him in Auror training. Percy was working for the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt. This Christmas promised to be better than last.
Charlie remembered all the Christmases in Romania, alone on the reserve. He wasn’t really alone, not with all the other dragon handlers and dragons around. But being away from family at Christmas is always lonely, even in a crowd. After the war, Molly insisted he transfer to a dragon reserve closer. She couldn’t bear to be separated from any more of her children. So for the last eighteen months, he’d been working in Scotland and living at the Burrow. Mum liked it that way.
Charlie sighed. Mum hadn’t been the same since Fred died. She was more protective, fiercer, more easily worried. She rarely smiled without a tear in her eye. As he thought about his mother, he handed the order for the dragon dung to one of the Hebridean Dragon Reserve’s apprentice handlers. Neville would be happy, and what were apprentices for if not to do the dirty work?
If he just had someone of his own. Maybe he wouldn’t spend so much time worrying about Mum. Sometimes he felt as if he were the only one besides Dad who did worry about her. But Dad was supposed to worry about Mum. His parents were a matched set. Charlie wondered when had he become a mother hen. Mum’s genes seemed to run true in him. Hard to believe considering the risks he took regularly in his job—as testified by the scattered scars along his well defined arms and chest and the one really bad one that went across his shoulder blade—but he seemed to be the Weasley most like his mum. Considering how Molly had single-handedly defeated Bellatrix Lestrange, being like her wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.. .
He checked his watch, wondering at how maudlin he was becoming. Almost time to be off.. He went to the front office and signed himself out. There was just enough time to slip into Hogsmeade before the shops closed to get his Christmas shopping done. Then he could visit Rosmerta’s for a meal and a few drinks.
He made sure he had plenty of gold in his pockets—well, plenty for a dragon keeper who was also a Weasley—and Apparated to Hogsmeade. He spent the next hour and a half shopping, mostly succeeding at finding things he thought everyone would like, or at least things they would laugh at.
He was just about to head into the Three Broomsticks, when he nearly tripped over a small cat mewling in the snow. “Hullo, what have we here?” He looked around for the cat’s owner, but he or she was nowhere to be found. The cat proceeded to weave herself in and out of his legs, purring manically. “Okay, let’s find out who you belong to.” He picked up the skinny calico and poked his head into the closest store. “Oi, ’scuse me, anyone lose a cat?” he asked.
“Lost? Hardly. I am glad you found her though. I had six of them to give away for Christmas. That one is the last. Guess she didn’t want to go to a Hogwarts student like the rest of them did. She slipped out first thing this morning.” Charlie looked up to see who went with the lyrical feminine voice. A short witch stepped out from behind the counter of the store. She had long chestnut brown hair, nearly black eyes, olive skin. She looked to be about twenty one or so . . . not much younger than he was. But it wasn’t until she smiled that he noticed how pretty she was. “I’ll take her,” she said, reaching out her arms. “Unless you want to keep her. She seems to like you.”
Charlie looked at the calico cat in his arms. She reminded him of the knitted poncho his mother wore. “What’s her name?” he asked, scratching her behind the ears. And yours, he thought.
“Her name is Harley—short for Harlequin. She’s the only calico of the lot. All the others were tabbies.” She smiled again at him, and he felt his heart do a double thump. Finally the witch put out her hand. “I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Alyssa Rossen. And you are?”
“Right, sorry. I’m Charlie Weasley.” Charlie looked around the shop, noting the curios and unusual items from around the world. “I never noticed this shop before. Is it new?” He wished he’d at least noticed the name.
“Yes. Mum and I just opened it a month ago. We hope International Curiosities does well. With the Christmas season, we’ve pulled in some new business.”
“You live here with your mother?” he asked.
“Yes, Dad was a Muggleborn. He became ill in Azkaban and never came home. Mum and I went to France until the war ended. Now we’re on our own.” Charlie’s heart sank. He’d heard these kinds of stories before, and they were all too common in post war Magical Great Britain.
“I’m sorry. I lost my brother and some good friends in the war too. Listen, I was just about to go to the Three Broomsticks for dinner. Would you like to join me?”
She smiled, then shook her head no. “Mum almost has dinner ready . . . but, you know, Mum hasn’t got used to cooking for two. She still makes enough for Dad. Why don’t you join us? You can have an easier time taking care of your cat here than in the Three Broomsticks anyway.”
My cat? Charlie held back a laugh. “Okay, I’d like that. Thank you.” Charlie spent an enjoyable dinner with Alyssa and Mrs Rossen. Alyssa’s smile melted him several times during the dinner. He did his best to make both Alyssa and her mother laugh.
They didn’t have the advantages of a large family to hold onto for support. He could see that was a blessing he needed to share. After a filling meal, pie for dessert, and five hands of cards—which resulted in a great deal of laughter, he picked up his purchases. “I need to get home. I was wondering if you would keep my cat until Christmas day, then I’ll give her to my mum. Of course, I would like you two to come over Christmas day and deliver the cat personally. It will be crowded, but we always have room for more.”
“You’re inviting us over to spend Christmas with your family?” Alyssa asked.
“Yes. Here’s the address.” Charlie wrote it on a slip of paper and handed it to her.
Mrs Rossen looked at Charlie appreciatively. “Thank you, Charlie. “Are you sure your mother wouldn’t mind? Hadn’t you better check with her first?”
“We have a big family. There is always room for more. I know Mum would invite you. Please, come.” He looked at Alyssa and let his warm brown eyes meet her dark ones in a silent plea. He wanted her there—and he knew it was where they should be too. His hand gently reached out and his fingers brushed hers.
Mrs Rossen caught the movement and looked at Charlie appreciatively before giving in. “Is there anything I should bring?” she asked.
“Mum’s an amazing cook, but if you want to bring a pie like you made for dinner, nobody will mind,” Charlie’s grin showed his dimples.
“As large as you describe your family, maybe I should bring several pies.” Mrs Rozzen shook Charlie’s hand, then disappeared into the with the cat.
Charlie was alone with Alyssa. This was his chance to make his intentions known—if his Gryffindor courage would not fail him. “Alyssa? Would you mind if I get to know you better? Er, I mean, we get to know each other better. I think you’re brilliant.” Charlie stepped in closer to her.
She reached up and touched his cheek, ever so lightly tracing her fingers over a faded scar. “I’d like to start spending time with you, Charlie.”
He reached down and let his lips brush across hers gently. “I’ll come back and see you in a couple days. Good night, Alyssa.” With that, he turned and headed back into the street, but there was a new spring in his step. Yes, this Christmas definitely promised to be better than the last.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-24 03:23 pm (UTC)Just one tiny quibble. Contrary to HP crack theory #87, Charlie does NOT have warm brown eyes. (*sticks tongue out at St Margarets*). After much personal observation of said eyes, I can assure everyone that they are that happy kind of blue which moulds itself to its owner's mood, thus allowing their writer an easy way of showing emotion. *grins*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-24 06:15 pm (UTC)Happy Christmas! This is the perfect gift for any Charliefangurl.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-25 08:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-25 12:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-24 07:01 pm (UTC)Lovely Christmas with Charlie story with a warm feeling.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-24 07:03 pm (UTC)Nonsense, of course!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-25 02:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-25 08:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-28 12:42 am (UTC)Loved it, of course - esp. Charlie's maternal streak - I love how he is concerned about his mother - and I loved the masculine last-minute shopping. LOL perfect.
I'm with Sandy! I want to know more! Great job, Secret Santa!