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hp_goldenageTitle: New Modern Love
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hikarievandar
Characters/Pairings: Charlie Weasley/Theodore Nott
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1567
Content/Warning(s): Asexual characters
Summary/Prompt: C14. He always figured it was just his lot in life to never fall in love. A chance meeting with Theodore Nott changes that, but Charlie still thinks he might be a bit broken.
A/N: Thanks to my beta and to the mod for running this fest – also to the person who left this lovely prompt, which I had an awful lot of fun working with. The title of the fic comes from a song of the same name by Halestorm, which I thought fitted the story quite well.
It’s a chance meeting that gets them here.
It’s not chance that they met in the first place – Charlie had applied for the job on purpose, wanting to leave the reserve for somewhere warmer; where the nights didn’t leave his joints creaking every morning. And Hogwarts was…it was a chance to get to see his great nieces and nephews more often than the occasional Christmas. It was security, a good wage and a decent pension and a place to live year-round if he wanted it. Not to mention, it was a good way to keep working with animals – age hadn’t stopped him from adoring them.
Sometimes, in his more maudlin moments, he’d wondered if animals were the only beings he’d ever fall in love with.
He’d met Theodore Nott on his first night back in the castle. He was a thin man with a thin face that was lined with wrinkles that showed he rarely smiled. He wore his steel grey hair long, in the style still preferred by the heads of old, wealthy pureblood families, but tied back from his face with a pewter clasp. He was handsome, Charlie thought in that distant way he seemed to recognise things like that, but he looked somewhat cruel. Certainly miserable. Definitely lonely.
He taught Arithmancy and was Head of Slytherin, and it was when Charlie was clambering into bed that he put Slytherin with Nott and remembered that Theodotus Nott was one of the Death Eaters who had (probably) been behind his uncles’ deaths in the First War. He’d stared at the ceiling as the realisation he’d be working with a Death Eater’s son sank in. Then he’d snorted and rolled over, closing his eyes.
There was a huge gap between Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy. He’d probably only see Nott at mealtimes, and Charlie was old enough not to let a piece of ancient history get in the way of civility.
…
The chance came on Charlie’s third day in the castle. Paperwork over with, and syllabi too frustrating to even consider looking at for more than an hour at a time, he’d decided to walk himself down to the forest to introduce himself to the Thestral herd only to find he wasn’t the only one with that idea.
Nott was there. There was a bucket of meat hanging from the crook of his elbow, and he was tossing chunks of it to the winged horses. The look-outs, already fed if the red foam at the corners of their mouths was anything to go by, had whickered as Charlie approached and Nott had glanced back over his shoulder. There was a chunk of some unidentifiable organ in his long-fingered hand, and he was stained with red all the way up to his narrow wrists. Further up, in fact. Charlie watched as a dark line of blood slid up the sleeve of Nott’s robe. It had felt easier than trying to make eye contact.
Eventually, after the silence between them had stretched out beyond politeness, Nott had looked away and thrown the meat. It landed with a splat on the leaf litter only to be snapped up by a mare. There was a bulge in her side that said she was expecting; that she trusted Nott enough to eat from his hand said more for the other professor than any endorsement from their colleagues could have done.
Nott hadn’t looked at him again, even as Charlie had moved to stand at his side. The Thestrals had reacted, stomping their hooves and snuffling at Charlie’s hands and robes, but Nott hadn’t. A glance at his face showed thin lips pressed in a grim line and pale eyes fixed on the middle distance. Again, Charlie noted the lines of Nott’s face: his expression, coupled with the Patrician lines of his nose and his high forehead, made him look like he should have been a Roman emperor rather than a school teacher.
“They like you,” he’d said.
Nott had responded to that: his gaze jerked in Charlie’s direction and the corner of his mouth twitched into something that almost, briefly, resembled a smile. “Yes, well,” he’d said. “Animals are easier to deal with than people.”
He’d held out the bucket. A bloody peace offering. Charlie had grinned as he’d scooped cold, wet meat into his hand. “That they are,” he’d said.
…
“I used to be afraid of them. I hated getting the carriages up to the school. Couldn’t stand that bloody lesson Hagrid gave on them. I hated what they meant. But it wasn’t their fault and, well, you should always try and overcome your fears, shouldn’t you?”
…
He’s not sure, exactly, at what point in the friendship that grew out of that moment, he fell in love. When he realised, it came as something of a surprise. Falling in love at his age seemed, frankly, ridiculous, especially given the lack of precedent. There had never been anyone. He’d spent his teenage years and his twenties and a good portion of his thirties waiting for a bolt from the blue – a surge of attraction and want and devotion that would send his life into a spin like it had done for his parents and his brothers and his sister and every other bugger around him – and in the end, when it hadn’t happened, he’d given up.
There was no one who, when he looked at them, made him think wow or this is the one I want to be with. No one.
Not until Theodore Nott.
Even so, it wasn’t the desperate flood of heart-bursting emotion that Bill had told him it would be. It was slower. It was a creeping, insidious thing – a bit like the smirk Theo wore when talking about his least favourite students – that, when he realised it, had become an intrinsic part of his life without him even noticing.
When he realised it, he Floo-called Bill. Who else was he supposed to turn to in his three-quarter-life crisis? But Bill’s advice, as always, didn’t quite fit.
Sometimes, Charlie wondered if he was a bit broken in some way. This, now, was no different. Love was no different. There was none of that aching desire to bury his cock in another person that he’d been told was supposed to come with such an emotion. There is a powerful desire to hold Theo’s hand, and to kiss his smirking mouth until he starts smiling for real, and there’s a desperate longing for his company on cold winter nights. And that, Charlie supposes, is as close as he’s ever going to get.
He takes a chance. He takes Theo out for lunch in Diagon Alley. If it all goes wrong, Theo’s too much of a proper pureblood to make a scene.
“I like you,” he tells Theo bluntly (Charlie may be the odd one of the family, but he’s still a Weasley). “Rather a lot.”
Theo’s fork lowers. The tines scrape through the remains of his desert, leaving porcelain scars in the chocolate sauce. “Oh,” he says. “Charlie…” He clears his throat and looks away, and Charlie sits back in his seat.
He steels himself for rejection.
He also takes the time to study the way Theo looks in the golden winter sunlight. He suits winter, pale as he is. The light catches in his pale irises, making him look almost like an Opaleye in human skin.
“I… I don’t like people that way. There’s a proper word for it, apparently, I –“
Charlie blinks. He’s torn, for a moment, between the sting of Theo’s rejection and the excitement of there being another person who feels the way he does – of there being a word to describe it.
“I enjoy your company,” Theo continues after a pause. “And I’ve come to value it. But I couldn’t ever –“ he hesitates again. Proper purebloods, Charlie remembers, don’t talk about fucking while in nice restaurants.
“That’s not what I want,” he cuts in.
Theo, for a moment, looks completely lost. But he’s a sharp man and Charlie’s meaning sinks in quickly. He’s wide-eyed and possibly a little stunned when Charlie confesses that, really, the best thing he could imagine is just being able to fold Theo into his arms and sometimes kiss him, and that he wants them to continue to share their evenings of marking and complaining over their students’ bitter lack of understanding, only with a touch more…casual touching.
Theo catches his hand. “Like this?” he asks. His long fingers slide between Charlie’s own. They’re thin as the rest of him, and soft as rose petals. Nothing like Charlie’s, which are scarred and calloused from his years at the reserve. It feels wonderful, and Charlie’s heart skips a beat.
There’s something he recognises from the fairytales. At last.
“Exactly like that,” he says.
Theo smiles at him. Genuinely smiles. It’s a rare and beautiful thing, and Charlie hopes – desperately – that all this means that he can see it more often.
“Ah,” Theo says. His thumb investigates an old burn on the underside of Charlie’s wrist. “I can…I can do this.”
…
“I started coming here after I started working here. Just once or twice. Conquering the fear. Then I realised that they’re just animals. And that people – myself included – only fear them, really, because they’re a bit different. And there’s nothing wrong with being different.”
Author:
hikarievandarCharacters/Pairings: Charlie Weasley/Theodore Nott
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1567
Content/Warning(s): Asexual characters
Summary/Prompt: C14. He always figured it was just his lot in life to never fall in love. A chance meeting with Theodore Nott changes that, but Charlie still thinks he might be a bit broken.
A/N: Thanks to my beta and to the mod for running this fest – also to the person who left this lovely prompt, which I had an awful lot of fun working with. The title of the fic comes from a song of the same name by Halestorm, which I thought fitted the story quite well.
It’s a chance meeting that gets them here.
It’s not chance that they met in the first place – Charlie had applied for the job on purpose, wanting to leave the reserve for somewhere warmer; where the nights didn’t leave his joints creaking every morning. And Hogwarts was…it was a chance to get to see his great nieces and nephews more often than the occasional Christmas. It was security, a good wage and a decent pension and a place to live year-round if he wanted it. Not to mention, it was a good way to keep working with animals – age hadn’t stopped him from adoring them.
Sometimes, in his more maudlin moments, he’d wondered if animals were the only beings he’d ever fall in love with.
He’d met Theodore Nott on his first night back in the castle. He was a thin man with a thin face that was lined with wrinkles that showed he rarely smiled. He wore his steel grey hair long, in the style still preferred by the heads of old, wealthy pureblood families, but tied back from his face with a pewter clasp. He was handsome, Charlie thought in that distant way he seemed to recognise things like that, but he looked somewhat cruel. Certainly miserable. Definitely lonely.
He taught Arithmancy and was Head of Slytherin, and it was when Charlie was clambering into bed that he put Slytherin with Nott and remembered that Theodotus Nott was one of the Death Eaters who had (probably) been behind his uncles’ deaths in the First War. He’d stared at the ceiling as the realisation he’d be working with a Death Eater’s son sank in. Then he’d snorted and rolled over, closing his eyes.
There was a huge gap between Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy. He’d probably only see Nott at mealtimes, and Charlie was old enough not to let a piece of ancient history get in the way of civility.
…
The chance came on Charlie’s third day in the castle. Paperwork over with, and syllabi too frustrating to even consider looking at for more than an hour at a time, he’d decided to walk himself down to the forest to introduce himself to the Thestral herd only to find he wasn’t the only one with that idea.
Nott was there. There was a bucket of meat hanging from the crook of his elbow, and he was tossing chunks of it to the winged horses. The look-outs, already fed if the red foam at the corners of their mouths was anything to go by, had whickered as Charlie approached and Nott had glanced back over his shoulder. There was a chunk of some unidentifiable organ in his long-fingered hand, and he was stained with red all the way up to his narrow wrists. Further up, in fact. Charlie watched as a dark line of blood slid up the sleeve of Nott’s robe. It had felt easier than trying to make eye contact.
Eventually, after the silence between them had stretched out beyond politeness, Nott had looked away and thrown the meat. It landed with a splat on the leaf litter only to be snapped up by a mare. There was a bulge in her side that said she was expecting; that she trusted Nott enough to eat from his hand said more for the other professor than any endorsement from their colleagues could have done.
Nott hadn’t looked at him again, even as Charlie had moved to stand at his side. The Thestrals had reacted, stomping their hooves and snuffling at Charlie’s hands and robes, but Nott hadn’t. A glance at his face showed thin lips pressed in a grim line and pale eyes fixed on the middle distance. Again, Charlie noted the lines of Nott’s face: his expression, coupled with the Patrician lines of his nose and his high forehead, made him look like he should have been a Roman emperor rather than a school teacher.
“They like you,” he’d said.
Nott had responded to that: his gaze jerked in Charlie’s direction and the corner of his mouth twitched into something that almost, briefly, resembled a smile. “Yes, well,” he’d said. “Animals are easier to deal with than people.”
He’d held out the bucket. A bloody peace offering. Charlie had grinned as he’d scooped cold, wet meat into his hand. “That they are,” he’d said.
…
“I used to be afraid of them. I hated getting the carriages up to the school. Couldn’t stand that bloody lesson Hagrid gave on them. I hated what they meant. But it wasn’t their fault and, well, you should always try and overcome your fears, shouldn’t you?”
…
He’s not sure, exactly, at what point in the friendship that grew out of that moment, he fell in love. When he realised, it came as something of a surprise. Falling in love at his age seemed, frankly, ridiculous, especially given the lack of precedent. There had never been anyone. He’d spent his teenage years and his twenties and a good portion of his thirties waiting for a bolt from the blue – a surge of attraction and want and devotion that would send his life into a spin like it had done for his parents and his brothers and his sister and every other bugger around him – and in the end, when it hadn’t happened, he’d given up.
There was no one who, when he looked at them, made him think wow or this is the one I want to be with. No one.
Not until Theodore Nott.
Even so, it wasn’t the desperate flood of heart-bursting emotion that Bill had told him it would be. It was slower. It was a creeping, insidious thing – a bit like the smirk Theo wore when talking about his least favourite students – that, when he realised it, had become an intrinsic part of his life without him even noticing.
When he realised it, he Floo-called Bill. Who else was he supposed to turn to in his three-quarter-life crisis? But Bill’s advice, as always, didn’t quite fit.
Sometimes, Charlie wondered if he was a bit broken in some way. This, now, was no different. Love was no different. There was none of that aching desire to bury his cock in another person that he’d been told was supposed to come with such an emotion. There is a powerful desire to hold Theo’s hand, and to kiss his smirking mouth until he starts smiling for real, and there’s a desperate longing for his company on cold winter nights. And that, Charlie supposes, is as close as he’s ever going to get.
He takes a chance. He takes Theo out for lunch in Diagon Alley. If it all goes wrong, Theo’s too much of a proper pureblood to make a scene.
“I like you,” he tells Theo bluntly (Charlie may be the odd one of the family, but he’s still a Weasley). “Rather a lot.”
Theo’s fork lowers. The tines scrape through the remains of his desert, leaving porcelain scars in the chocolate sauce. “Oh,” he says. “Charlie…” He clears his throat and looks away, and Charlie sits back in his seat.
He steels himself for rejection.
He also takes the time to study the way Theo looks in the golden winter sunlight. He suits winter, pale as he is. The light catches in his pale irises, making him look almost like an Opaleye in human skin.
“I… I don’t like people that way. There’s a proper word for it, apparently, I –“
Charlie blinks. He’s torn, for a moment, between the sting of Theo’s rejection and the excitement of there being another person who feels the way he does – of there being a word to describe it.
“I enjoy your company,” Theo continues after a pause. “And I’ve come to value it. But I couldn’t ever –“ he hesitates again. Proper purebloods, Charlie remembers, don’t talk about fucking while in nice restaurants.
“That’s not what I want,” he cuts in.
Theo, for a moment, looks completely lost. But he’s a sharp man and Charlie’s meaning sinks in quickly. He’s wide-eyed and possibly a little stunned when Charlie confesses that, really, the best thing he could imagine is just being able to fold Theo into his arms and sometimes kiss him, and that he wants them to continue to share their evenings of marking and complaining over their students’ bitter lack of understanding, only with a touch more…casual touching.
Theo catches his hand. “Like this?” he asks. His long fingers slide between Charlie’s own. They’re thin as the rest of him, and soft as rose petals. Nothing like Charlie’s, which are scarred and calloused from his years at the reserve. It feels wonderful, and Charlie’s heart skips a beat.
There’s something he recognises from the fairytales. At last.
“Exactly like that,” he says.
Theo smiles at him. Genuinely smiles. It’s a rare and beautiful thing, and Charlie hopes – desperately – that all this means that he can see it more often.
“Ah,” Theo says. His thumb investigates an old burn on the underside of Charlie’s wrist. “I can…I can do this.”
…
“I started coming here after I started working here. Just once or twice. Conquering the fear. Then I realised that they’re just animals. And that people – myself included – only fear them, really, because they’re a bit different. And there’s nothing wrong with being different.”
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no subject
Date: 2016-03-01 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-01 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-01 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-01 06:46 pm (UTC)This is beautifully written. Just a gorgeous story and a great pairing! I loved it to pieces. Thanks so much for sharing.
x
no subject
Date: 2016-03-01 08:43 pm (UTC)There is a powerful desire to hold Theo’s hand, and to kiss his smirking mouth until he starts smiling for real, and there’s a desperate longing for his company on cold winter nights. And that, Charlie supposes, is as close as he’s ever going to get.
And that was wonderful. And more so that they both feel that way, and found happiness in each other. Lovely. Thank you, mystery author! <3
no subject
Date: 2016-03-01 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-02 01:32 am (UTC)I love how they found each other, how wary they were at first but then how their friendship develops. And the slow realization that they both want the same sort of relationship. :)
Wonderful job with this!
no subject
Date: 2016-03-02 01:41 am (UTC)And there were so many little details that just really felt perfect. The bit about Charlie wanting to move someplace warmer to be easier on his aging body, but still wanting to work with animals, and how the fact that the Thestrals trust Theo does so much for Charlie's opinion of him. I'm demisexual, so a little bit on the asexual spectrum, and the line about Charlie feeling broken because he's not feeling and experiencing things the way everybody else is was just so true and perfect and you really just captured that all beautifully.
Really wonderful work, MA! :)
no subject
Date: 2016-03-02 06:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-03 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-03 10:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-03 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-03 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-12 02:47 pm (UTC)this is really a touching story
and i like that charlie here isnt the playboy but the one with deep love for animals and a slight puzzlement!
and your theo is just amazing with his lines in his face, and the way you describe him i have an image to his movements too
really beautiful and touching !
and it had the right amount of fun too!
very enjoyable!
no subject
Date: 2016-03-20 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-21 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-21 11:54 pm (UTC)Beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2016-04-04 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 08:00 am (UTC)Absolutely wonderful <3