Love Burns (Charlie Weasley X Reader)

Chapter 6: Trust

Chapter 6: Trust

When I got back to my cabin after work, Charlie was just about time to leave for his shift. Since I had started working full-time, it seemed as though our schedules clashed more and more.

"Hey," he breathed out as I came through the door, looking up from his boots, which he was lacing.

"Hey," I said and surveyed the room. He had been cleaning since I left and the air smelled of citrus-scented cleaning spray. "You've been busy."

"Figured it would give you some extra time to relax," he said with a shrug and stood. He was wearing a dark shirt that stretched over his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up over his elbows.

"I love that shirt," I said and allowed my eyes to rake over his body.

"Do you?" he asked and looked down.

"You're so hot," I muttered and stepped closer to him, sliding my arms around his waist and down to his ass.

"I've got to work," he said.

"You're no fun," I pouted and stepped back.

"I'm sorry, love. Raincheck?"

"Raincheck," I acquiesced.

"I'll be back by eight," he said and grabbed his work bag. "If you still find me utterly irresistible, then we'll work something out." He winked as he opened the door and slipped outside.

I sighed and lingered in my spot for a while. The sanctuary was boring without Charlie around. After a few minutes of deliberation, I migrated towards my bedroom. On my nightstand was a book in Romanian that I had already finished. The perfect excuse to get out of the cabin.

"Thank Merlin," I muttered and grabbed the books to bring them back to Cristian, who had lent them to me.

The walk to Cristian's office was pleasant. The sun shone brightly and birds sang as they swooped through the air. Once I reached his office, I knocked on the door.

"It's open," he called. I pushed through the door.

"Hey," I said and entered his office. "I brought back your books."

"Ah, yes," Cristian said and stood from behind his desk. He grabbed the books from me and set them on the corner of his desk. "Thank you. Have you been working on your Romanian anymore?"

"Yeah, I've mostly been practicing on the townspeople," I said and shrugged as I looked around his office.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked.

"Sorry, are you busy?"

"No, no," he clarified. "You can stay if you'd like."

"I don't want to keep you from what you need to do. I've just been bored, you know? And Charlie doesn't like when I go into town alone," I said and walked over to the wall where he had a diagram of a dragon hanging.

"Sounds like he's controlling," Cristian commented.

"No, he just gets worried. You know, with everything that's going on. He prefers to stick together when we can."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"Everything going on with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... well, it's kind of centered around where I grew up. Charlie, too. I don't know where you were living around the time when he was in power the first time but it was hard. From what I remember anyway. Charlie remembers more."

"I was here. It was right before I went to America," Cristian said and rounded his desk to settle in his office chair.

"And do you remember any of it?" I asked and took a seat across from him.

"Yes," he answered vaguely.

I nodded and leaned back in my chair.

"I'm nervous," I admitted and met his eyes across his desk.

"You shouldn't be. There're not many places safer than here," he said.

"I was actually wondering if you were going to speak up about that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought that you'd maybe just make sure that people know that this is a safe place for muggleborns and half-bloods," I said and shrugged. "It's been a really stressful time for a lot of wizards."

"I won't be doing that," he said and shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because there's a war," he said.

"That's exactly why you have to say something. It's just as bad to sit around and do nothing as to be a death eater."

"Be careful what you say."

"Why?" I asked stubbornly.

"If you had any sense of self-preservation, you wouldn't be going around telling people which side of the war you're on."

"Excuse me. Do you know something that I don't? Are there death eaters here?"

"Death eaters are everywhere. What I do know is that you shouldn't be saying things opposing You-Know-Who as you are," he said calmly.

"I don't, not to everyone. I thought that you were someone that I could trust. Am I wrong about that?" I asked and stood up challengingly, resting my hand over the handle of my wand, which was tucked into the waistband of my pants.

"No, you can," he clarified, his eyes darting between my hand and my face. "But you can't trust everyone."

"So you know there are death eaters here and you're not doing anything about it? You're endangering everyone who's on this reserve," I scoffed.

"I'm doing what I believe is right and you have no business telling me to do otherwise."

"You could be protecting countless people if you got rid of them."

"I'm doing what I can to protect the people who need protecting."

"Which side are you on?"

"That's none of your concern," he said and stood from his seat. "I think you should leave, Y/N."

"Gladly. Sorry for wasting your time," I said and shot him a glare as I walked to the door. I looked back as he lowered himself back into his seat before closing the door behind me.

What an ass.

Okay, so don't trust anyone. That was hard. If I couldn't trust Cristian, then who did that leave? Charlie, of course. I wanted to believe that everyone was trustworthy. And yet as I was walking back to my cabin, I could see that maybe things weren't as chipper as I had believed.

The usually bustling walkways were emptier than I had ever seen them, conversations were hushed, people never lingered, and eyes never rested, constantly scanning people; are you friend or foe?; can I trust you?; would you hurt me if you knew who my family was?; would I hurt you if I knew who your family was?

Would you trust me if I kept my prejudice hidden far beneath the surface, hibernating until all chances of failure were gone and I knew that my prejudice would lift me higher in the world? Would you let me know who your family was, how pure your blood was, if I pretended it meant nothing to me? How much satisfaction would I get from watching as you were wiped from this planet? Why, I can barely wait to find out!

How do you know who you can trust in a world where our beliefs aren't worn on our sleeves, but hidden under them, in inky black shapes of burning malice?

As you lovely people know, my stories usually start with short chapters that gradually get longer. And that's okay. Writing is hard. Life, in general, is hard. But it is comforting to me to know that everything that we know as life is a social construct!