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hp_goldenage2017-03-07 12:00 pm
hpgoldenage_mod) wrote in hp_goldenage2017-03-07 12:00 pm
Entry tags:
Salt and Pepper Fest: A New Adventure (Neville/Charlie; PG)
Title: A New Adventure
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
digthewriter
Pairing: Neville/Charlie
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2285
Content: Sweetness overload. Fluff. Past Neville/Hannah. Background Harry/Draco and past Harry/Ginny. Overprotective Molly.
Summary: Hanging up his flame-proof gloves at the age of sixty was not something Charlie Weasley had ever intended to do. But he was ready for a new chapter in his life and a second chance to pursue someone he thought he'd lost.
A/N: All my thanks toravenclawsquill for the beta and basically filling in the blanks for me when I was like: "some dragon reference goes here!" I hope y'all enjoy this little story.
Hanging up his flame-proof gloves at the age of sixty was not something Charlie Weasley had ever intended to do; after all, he'd spent over forty years in near solitude, surrounded only by his dragons. They were like his children, a sentiment no one other than Hagrid had related to, and he, too, had long since retired.
Charlie looked forward to spending a few quiet weeks at the Burrow with his parents, until the inevitable itch to move on and do something new came scratching. He’d had fun working with his nephew Hugo over the past twenty years, teaching him the tricks of the trade. Now Hugo was ready to take over, and Charlie felt it was time to step back.
He was going to miss it, though. He was going to miss it all.
He’d be lost without the smell of the mountains on a crisp morning, or the warmth of having his body surrounded by a Romanian Longhorn. Of course, it was only natural to worry that he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but he knew that if it all went to pot, he could simply go into teaching. He could bring his students to the sanctuary; that would be fun.
On December first, Charlie packed all of his belongings into one suitcase and was ready to head home. Home, which was the Burrow now, not his cosy and comfortable cottage in Neamț.
He stepped out of the Floo at his parents' kitchen to find his mother fussing over a pot on the stove, and his father studying the Prophet. Business as usual, then, he thought, and nodded at them.
"Oh, you're here!" Molly said, as she rushed over to pull Charlie into a tight embrace. She was fragile now, more fragile that he was used to, but she still gripped him tightly, as if he was going to disappear. Three-dozen years after the war, and she still liked to keep all of her kids close. "Your room is all set up, and I've even used the extension charm to make it feel like a castle to you."
Charlie smiled softly at her. He'd not been fussed over in quite a while, and although his younger self would have been annoyed at all the attention, he was now somehow appreciative of it. Still, he pretended to protest. "Don't worry, Mum, I'm not going to run away."
"Yes, that's what you said when you turned seventeen, and look at you now!" She smiled up at him and ran her fingers through his hair. "You should talk to Bill about putting in some colour to hide the greys—"
"I don't think so," Charlie said with a laugh. "I know you want me to dye my hair so you don't look as old as you are, but I kind of like it."
"But how will you find—?"
"Sixty years old, and you're still worried about me settling down," he chuckled, shaking his head before nodding a hello at his dad and making his way up the stairs to his old bedroom.
His mum had been right: she'd spent quite some time redecorating his room and extending it to twice the size it used to be. He felt as if he was checking into a hotel room, and not going to be sleeping on his childhood bed.
Elegant yet modern art decorated the walls – Ginny's work, no doubt – and his king size bed had luxury Egyptian cotton sheets. Wow, thought Charlie, she either thinks I was really roughing it in Romania, or she never wants me to leave!
There was a knock at the door, giving Charlie a start. Funny, he didn't remember closing the door behind him. When he went to answer it, he found his mother waiting there, looking nervous. "How do you like it?"
"It's brilliant," he said with a grin. "Very charming. I didn't know you had such refined taste!"
"Draco helped me decorate it," she admitted.
"Ah! Of course he did," Charlie said with a smile. He moved out of the way so his mother could enter the room, and settled on his bed. "It's good to be home."
He should have known it was Draco’s doing: he and Harry had been married and living in their own home for thirty years now, but they still always found the time for dinner at the Burrow twice a month. They were the polar opposite of Ginny; she’d been travelling the world non-stop ever since her and Harry’s divorce. Charlie had been slightly envious of her for a while. She'd never given up her happiness – not that he had – but she was always the most free-spirited of them all.
"So, are you ready for the weekend?" Molly asked as she offered him a plate of his favourite spinach pie. She’d cut it up into small triangles, just as she’d done when he was a kid.
"What's happening at the weeken—oh no! Mum, please don't tell me..." Charlie nearly groaned, but his mother cut him off sharply before he had the chance.
"You're moving home and the whole family is going to be here. We had to do something. You're turning sixty!" she said, with so much conviction Charlie was afraid that if he protested any more, she'd burst into tears. "You missed Bill's party, should I remind you?"
"I was literally stuck in a dragon's cave," he said.
"Yes, and luckily for you, neither Bill nor Hugo are in that predicament. I can't believe my dear grandson has decided to follow in your footsteps!"
"Well, you have other grandchildren that are doing normal things like Aurors, Healers, and news-reporters. Besides, Hugo's mum is tougher than you. She's raised a good boy."
Molly scrutinised him as if she was trying to figure out whether he was complimenting her or insulting her.
"Anyway, who’s going to be there?" He popped a small triangle of spinach pie into his mouth and smiled.
She shrugged, taking a serving for herself. "Mostly just family, and maybe some of Harry and Draco's friends you might recognise."
"Very well, as long as it's nothing big."
"It's nothing big," she said to him, patting on his shoulder. "Don't want you to run away again."
"I didn't—" He decided it wasn't worth arguing over this with his mother so he stopped himself. He supposed he could simply relax on his big bed, enjoy his mother's cooking, and look forward to everyone fussing over him for his birthday.
-=-=-=-
When Charlie joined his family in the sitting room for his birthday party, he'd expected to see many familiar faces, but not this one.
The last time he'd seen Neville Longbottom was almost two decades ago. He’d been visiting his family for Christmas soon after his fortieth birthday when Neville turned up with Ginny. Charlie remembered how jealous he'd been of Ginny then – he'd had no idea that they were just friends. The fact that Neville had arrived based on Ginny's invitation had made him assume there was something going on between them.
Not long after, Charlie had heard some rumour of Neville marrying a girl that ran the Leaky Cauldron. He'd opted not to attend the wedding.
And now here he was, standing in front of Charlie with a champagne glass in hand, looking more radiant than ever. He wore a three piece Muggle suit and his blond hair was cut so short, it looked almost light brown, flecked with hints of grey. Charlie was glad to know that there was someone else who didn't care about the greys growing out. Besides, it seemed to suit him. He looked bloody sharp.
"Charlie," Neville said with a soft smile and a small bow. "It's good to see you again."
"You too," said Charlie, with a slight nod. "My sister's date again, I see."
Neville laughed and adjusted his glasses. That was different; Charlie had never seen him wear them before. "No, afraid not. Just here on Molly's insistence."
"My mother invited you?" Charlie asked, surprised.
Neville nodded. "Yes. It’s been a while and I was due for a visit. She was very kind to me when my grandmother passed away."
"Oh," Charlie said. His stomach dropped: he’d had no idea. "I'm so sorry. Sorry for your loss..."
"It's okay," Neville said, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "It's been five years now. Thanks, though. I appreciate the sentiment."
"God, I had no idea—I feel like such an idiot—"
"Don't, please," Neville said, squeezing Charlie's shoulder. "I didn't mean to bring her up and ruin your party. Please forgive me."
He smiled and, with another quick nod, walked away. Charlie watched him go, feeling as if he was missing yet another opportunity, but before he could chase after Neville, he was immediately boarded with hellos and hugs and happy birthdays.
-=-=-=-
Charlie sat on the small bench in the garden behind the Burrow, admiring the Christmas decorations. He'd charmed the area with a few warming spells so he could relax and kick back, away from the party.
“So, you never married.”
Neville's voice was like silk glazed with honey, coated with just a hint of nervousness. Charlie could always read people. He was good at it, even with having only worked with dragons all his life.
"No...my work always took precedence," he replied. He didn’t look over in Neville's direction, but shifted on the bench, making room for him.
Neville sat down beside Charlie, so close that their thighs touched. Charlie was surprised to feel a rush of an unexpected sort of warmth – one which he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.
"And you’re divorced, I hear?" More like I hope.
"Where did you hear that?" Neville asked. He didn’t sound surprised or angry – merely curious.
"More observation than hearsay, I suppose. Your wife isn't here."
"Yeah..." Neville nodded and took another small sip of his drink. Charlie wondered if it was the same glass of sparkling wine. Neville didn't seem to be much of a drinker. "We married in haste. I tend to put my career over everything, which wasn’t really fair on her. Things were even more difficult once I became a Professor at Hogwarts. I should have known … but I suppose hindsight is golden. I discovered—discovered too late..."
"Discovered what?" Charlie asked, fiddling with the fabric of his robes. He wished he had a drink to hold. He contemplated Summoning one.
"That I'm gay."
A long pause followed, and Charlie wondered if he should turn to face Neville; say something. But what could he say? Congratulations? Thanks for telling me? Good for you?! It all sounded wrong.
Neville placed a hand on Charlie's thigh, almost causing him to jerk back. Almost. Charlie finally turned to look at him, and was rewarded with a warm smile. His deep blue eyes reminded Charlie of the flames of a Swedish Short-Snout.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Neville asked.
Charlie nodded mutely; apparently he'd lost his voice.
"I used to have such a schoolboy crush on you. I was always looking for reasons to talk about you. I’d ask Ron and Ginny about you until they'd get tired of it. At the time, I never realised why I was so bloody curious."
Charlie’s breath caught in his throat. "You did?" he asked, finally. They were almost face to face now, their knees touching, and the heat between their bodies was almost too much to bear. Charlie pulled on his collar, trying to hide his nervousness.
"That one time I was here...Merlin, years ago..." Neville said, running a hand through his hair. "For Christmas..."
Charlie tried to look thoughtful as he gestured for Neville to continue. Of course, he knew exactly which time Neville was talking about.
"You didn't even look at me; it almost was like you were cross with me for some reason. I didn't even know—"
"I thought you were Ginny's date – you know, romantically involved with her. I mean, you two did sort of date back at Hogwarts."
Neville laughed softly. He looked so bloody adorable with his flushed cheeks and the tips of his ears turning slightly red. "Me having a romantic relationship with Ginny is almost like saying me having feelings for Professor Snape! We were nothing more than friends. I mean, she was the first person I told when I came out."
"Funny. Me too." Charlie felt like a schoolboy asking another boy to the Yule Ball as they sat there in the backyard of his childhood home, two grown men over the age of fifty.
As Neville looked away, seemingly thoroughly embarrassed, Charlie reached out to grab Neville's chin and tipped his head up so their gazes met. "Do you think it’s too late to start over?"
"Fuck, I hope not!" Neville said immediately. "That's why I'm here tonight. To see if I could. This time, I made sure I wasn't anyone's date. I’m just here to see you."
Charlie smiled again then, and this time, he felt it reach his eyes. He leaned closer to Neville as Neville reached up at him and their lips met tentatively. It was a soft kiss, and it ended far too quickly for Charlie’s liking.
"Well then, Neville. Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"
Neville grinned up and suddenly he looked like that thirty-something man Charlie had found himself falling for all those years ago. "I’d love to. Where would you like to go?"
Charlie shrugged. "I dunno. Anywhere but the Leaky Cauldron."
A bubble of laughter escaped Neville's lips; he sounded almost surprised. "Good idea," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to Charlie's cheek. "It's a date."
Author:
digthewriterPairing: Neville/Charlie
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2285
Content: Sweetness overload. Fluff. Past Neville/Hannah. Background Harry/Draco and past Harry/Ginny. Overprotective Molly.
Summary: Hanging up his flame-proof gloves at the age of sixty was not something Charlie Weasley had ever intended to do. But he was ready for a new chapter in his life and a second chance to pursue someone he thought he'd lost.
A/N: All my thanks to
ravenclawsquill for the beta and basically filling in the blanks for me when I was like: "some dragon reference goes here!" I hope y'all enjoy this little story.Hanging up his flame-proof gloves at the age of sixty was not something Charlie Weasley had ever intended to do; after all, he'd spent over forty years in near solitude, surrounded only by his dragons. They were like his children, a sentiment no one other than Hagrid had related to, and he, too, had long since retired.
Charlie looked forward to spending a few quiet weeks at the Burrow with his parents, until the inevitable itch to move on and do something new came scratching. He’d had fun working with his nephew Hugo over the past twenty years, teaching him the tricks of the trade. Now Hugo was ready to take over, and Charlie felt it was time to step back.
He was going to miss it, though. He was going to miss it all.
He’d be lost without the smell of the mountains on a crisp morning, or the warmth of having his body surrounded by a Romanian Longhorn. Of course, it was only natural to worry that he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but he knew that if it all went to pot, he could simply go into teaching. He could bring his students to the sanctuary; that would be fun.
On December first, Charlie packed all of his belongings into one suitcase and was ready to head home. Home, which was the Burrow now, not his cosy and comfortable cottage in Neamț.
He stepped out of the Floo at his parents' kitchen to find his mother fussing over a pot on the stove, and his father studying the Prophet. Business as usual, then, he thought, and nodded at them.
"Oh, you're here!" Molly said, as she rushed over to pull Charlie into a tight embrace. She was fragile now, more fragile that he was used to, but she still gripped him tightly, as if he was going to disappear. Three-dozen years after the war, and she still liked to keep all of her kids close. "Your room is all set up, and I've even used the extension charm to make it feel like a castle to you."
Charlie smiled softly at her. He'd not been fussed over in quite a while, and although his younger self would have been annoyed at all the attention, he was now somehow appreciative of it. Still, he pretended to protest. "Don't worry, Mum, I'm not going to run away."
"Yes, that's what you said when you turned seventeen, and look at you now!" She smiled up at him and ran her fingers through his hair. "You should talk to Bill about putting in some colour to hide the greys—"
"I don't think so," Charlie said with a laugh. "I know you want me to dye my hair so you don't look as old as you are, but I kind of like it."
"But how will you find—?"
"Sixty years old, and you're still worried about me settling down," he chuckled, shaking his head before nodding a hello at his dad and making his way up the stairs to his old bedroom.
His mum had been right: she'd spent quite some time redecorating his room and extending it to twice the size it used to be. He felt as if he was checking into a hotel room, and not going to be sleeping on his childhood bed.
Elegant yet modern art decorated the walls – Ginny's work, no doubt – and his king size bed had luxury Egyptian cotton sheets. Wow, thought Charlie, she either thinks I was really roughing it in Romania, or she never wants me to leave!
There was a knock at the door, giving Charlie a start. Funny, he didn't remember closing the door behind him. When he went to answer it, he found his mother waiting there, looking nervous. "How do you like it?"
"It's brilliant," he said with a grin. "Very charming. I didn't know you had such refined taste!"
"Draco helped me decorate it," she admitted.
"Ah! Of course he did," Charlie said with a smile. He moved out of the way so his mother could enter the room, and settled on his bed. "It's good to be home."
He should have known it was Draco’s doing: he and Harry had been married and living in their own home for thirty years now, but they still always found the time for dinner at the Burrow twice a month. They were the polar opposite of Ginny; she’d been travelling the world non-stop ever since her and Harry’s divorce. Charlie had been slightly envious of her for a while. She'd never given up her happiness – not that he had – but she was always the most free-spirited of them all.
"So, are you ready for the weekend?" Molly asked as she offered him a plate of his favourite spinach pie. She’d cut it up into small triangles, just as she’d done when he was a kid.
"What's happening at the weeken—oh no! Mum, please don't tell me..." Charlie nearly groaned, but his mother cut him off sharply before he had the chance.
"You're moving home and the whole family is going to be here. We had to do something. You're turning sixty!" she said, with so much conviction Charlie was afraid that if he protested any more, she'd burst into tears. "You missed Bill's party, should I remind you?"
"I was literally stuck in a dragon's cave," he said.
"Yes, and luckily for you, neither Bill nor Hugo are in that predicament. I can't believe my dear grandson has decided to follow in your footsteps!"
"Well, you have other grandchildren that are doing normal things like Aurors, Healers, and news-reporters. Besides, Hugo's mum is tougher than you. She's raised a good boy."
Molly scrutinised him as if she was trying to figure out whether he was complimenting her or insulting her.
"Anyway, who’s going to be there?" He popped a small triangle of spinach pie into his mouth and smiled.
She shrugged, taking a serving for herself. "Mostly just family, and maybe some of Harry and Draco's friends you might recognise."
"Very well, as long as it's nothing big."
"It's nothing big," she said to him, patting on his shoulder. "Don't want you to run away again."
"I didn't—" He decided it wasn't worth arguing over this with his mother so he stopped himself. He supposed he could simply relax on his big bed, enjoy his mother's cooking, and look forward to everyone fussing over him for his birthday.
When Charlie joined his family in the sitting room for his birthday party, he'd expected to see many familiar faces, but not this one.
The last time he'd seen Neville Longbottom was almost two decades ago. He’d been visiting his family for Christmas soon after his fortieth birthday when Neville turned up with Ginny. Charlie remembered how jealous he'd been of Ginny then – he'd had no idea that they were just friends. The fact that Neville had arrived based on Ginny's invitation had made him assume there was something going on between them.
Not long after, Charlie had heard some rumour of Neville marrying a girl that ran the Leaky Cauldron. He'd opted not to attend the wedding.
And now here he was, standing in front of Charlie with a champagne glass in hand, looking more radiant than ever. He wore a three piece Muggle suit and his blond hair was cut so short, it looked almost light brown, flecked with hints of grey. Charlie was glad to know that there was someone else who didn't care about the greys growing out. Besides, it seemed to suit him. He looked bloody sharp.
"Charlie," Neville said with a soft smile and a small bow. "It's good to see you again."
"You too," said Charlie, with a slight nod. "My sister's date again, I see."
Neville laughed and adjusted his glasses. That was different; Charlie had never seen him wear them before. "No, afraid not. Just here on Molly's insistence."
"My mother invited you?" Charlie asked, surprised.
Neville nodded. "Yes. It’s been a while and I was due for a visit. She was very kind to me when my grandmother passed away."
"Oh," Charlie said. His stomach dropped: he’d had no idea. "I'm so sorry. Sorry for your loss..."
"It's okay," Neville said, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "It's been five years now. Thanks, though. I appreciate the sentiment."
"God, I had no idea—I feel like such an idiot—"
"Don't, please," Neville said, squeezing Charlie's shoulder. "I didn't mean to bring her up and ruin your party. Please forgive me."
He smiled and, with another quick nod, walked away. Charlie watched him go, feeling as if he was missing yet another opportunity, but before he could chase after Neville, he was immediately boarded with hellos and hugs and happy birthdays.
Charlie sat on the small bench in the garden behind the Burrow, admiring the Christmas decorations. He'd charmed the area with a few warming spells so he could relax and kick back, away from the party.
“So, you never married.”
Neville's voice was like silk glazed with honey, coated with just a hint of nervousness. Charlie could always read people. He was good at it, even with having only worked with dragons all his life.
"No...my work always took precedence," he replied. He didn’t look over in Neville's direction, but shifted on the bench, making room for him.
Neville sat down beside Charlie, so close that their thighs touched. Charlie was surprised to feel a rush of an unexpected sort of warmth – one which he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.
"And you’re divorced, I hear?" More like I hope.
"Where did you hear that?" Neville asked. He didn’t sound surprised or angry – merely curious.
"More observation than hearsay, I suppose. Your wife isn't here."
"Yeah..." Neville nodded and took another small sip of his drink. Charlie wondered if it was the same glass of sparkling wine. Neville didn't seem to be much of a drinker. "We married in haste. I tend to put my career over everything, which wasn’t really fair on her. Things were even more difficult once I became a Professor at Hogwarts. I should have known … but I suppose hindsight is golden. I discovered—discovered too late..."
"Discovered what?" Charlie asked, fiddling with the fabric of his robes. He wished he had a drink to hold. He contemplated Summoning one.
"That I'm gay."
A long pause followed, and Charlie wondered if he should turn to face Neville; say something. But what could he say? Congratulations? Thanks for telling me? Good for you?! It all sounded wrong.
Neville placed a hand on Charlie's thigh, almost causing him to jerk back. Almost. Charlie finally turned to look at him, and was rewarded with a warm smile. His deep blue eyes reminded Charlie of the flames of a Swedish Short-Snout.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Neville asked.
Charlie nodded mutely; apparently he'd lost his voice.
"I used to have such a schoolboy crush on you. I was always looking for reasons to talk about you. I’d ask Ron and Ginny about you until they'd get tired of it. At the time, I never realised why I was so bloody curious."
Charlie’s breath caught in his throat. "You did?" he asked, finally. They were almost face to face now, their knees touching, and the heat between their bodies was almost too much to bear. Charlie pulled on his collar, trying to hide his nervousness.
"That one time I was here...Merlin, years ago..." Neville said, running a hand through his hair. "For Christmas..."
Charlie tried to look thoughtful as he gestured for Neville to continue. Of course, he knew exactly which time Neville was talking about.
"You didn't even look at me; it almost was like you were cross with me for some reason. I didn't even know—"
"I thought you were Ginny's date – you know, romantically involved with her. I mean, you two did sort of date back at Hogwarts."
Neville laughed softly. He looked so bloody adorable with his flushed cheeks and the tips of his ears turning slightly red. "Me having a romantic relationship with Ginny is almost like saying me having feelings for Professor Snape! We were nothing more than friends. I mean, she was the first person I told when I came out."
"Funny. Me too." Charlie felt like a schoolboy asking another boy to the Yule Ball as they sat there in the backyard of his childhood home, two grown men over the age of fifty.
As Neville looked away, seemingly thoroughly embarrassed, Charlie reached out to grab Neville's chin and tipped his head up so their gazes met. "Do you think it’s too late to start over?"
"Fuck, I hope not!" Neville said immediately. "That's why I'm here tonight. To see if I could. This time, I made sure I wasn't anyone's date. I’m just here to see you."
Charlie smiled again then, and this time, he felt it reach his eyes. He leaned closer to Neville as Neville reached up at him and their lips met tentatively. It was a soft kiss, and it ended far too quickly for Charlie’s liking.
"Well then, Neville. Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"
Neville grinned up and suddenly he looked like that thirty-something man Charlie had found himself falling for all those years ago. "I’d love to. Where would you like to go?"
Charlie shrugged. "I dunno. Anywhere but the Leaky Cauldron."
A bubble of laughter escaped Neville's lips; he sounded almost surprised. "Good idea," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to Charlie's cheek. "It's a date."
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Molly's hand can be seen in this, I'm sure. :)
And I love Hugo training under Charlie.
Very nice.
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Thank you for reading and your lovely comment.
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And Molly getting frailer - of course, but that's hard...
"His deep blue eyes reminded Charlie of the flames of a Swedish Short-Snout." Such a romantic, Charlie!
Thanks, I enjoyed this!
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Thanks for reading.
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