Just Like Home | Charlie Weasley

Chapter 34

Whoa this is the longest chapter I've written- almost 3600 words! But this concludes Christmas with some wholesome Ellie and Charlie content. Can't wait for the next parts! <3

A couple of hours later, Eleanor found herself seated at the kitchen table of The Burrow as it crept into the late evening. She was a couple of glasses of wine deep, and couldn't keep the Cheshire-cat style grin from her face. Charlie sat across from her, occasionally bumping her foot with his own and sending her a sly wink. The power that he held over her was inhumane; he could melt her with a single glance in her direction.

The conversation turned to life at the ministry, and Eleanor became bored, not having a single thing to say on the matter. Charlie, evidently feeling strongly about the way that magical creatures were defined and treated by those in power, chipped in his opinions on the matter and she found it incredibly attractive how knowledgeable, and passionate, he was. She only wished she could see more of Charlie in action.

Eleanor began to wonder where George had gotten to. He stated over an hour ago that he was stepping out for some fresh air and hadn't returned. She was still rather worried about him, knowing how difficult he was finding spending another Christmas without Fred. She excused herself and followed the direction that he'd left in and exited through the back door. As soon as she stepped into the crisp, winter's air, she began to shiver. The knitted jumper and her small, black skirt and tights were doing little to keep her warm at this point. She stood at the bottom of the steps, peering out into the vast expanse of darkness, looking for any sign of George out there. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness for a few moments when she finally spotted the silhouette of what appeared to be somebody hunched over at the side of the pond. Her feet automatically began to carry her in that direction as she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to alleviate the bitter cold.

As she slowly stepped closer, George snapped his head up when he heard the sound of footsteps crunching over the frozen ground. When he spotted the bright red jumper and curly hair, he relaxed somewhat and turned his gaze back to the pond in front of him.

"You shouldn't be out here without a coat on," he muttered quietly as he rested his arms against his bent knees.

"I might say the same to you," Eleanor countered, sitting down a couple of inches away from where George sat. The damp cold from the ground immediately began to seep through her skirt and tights, but she ignored it knowing that wasn't what was important right now.

George only breathed a small, humourless laugh through his nose in response and the two sat in silence, save for the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees and the water lapping at the edge of the bank.

"It's okay that you're not okay," Eleanor spoke quietly as she gazed up at the sky. "Sometimes I'm not okay either,". The small stars appeared to wink back at her as she peered at them.

She heard George shift slightly, but still he said nothing.

"There are days when I want to curse the world," she continued softly. "When I think just how unfair life can be. Sometimes I cry," she chuckled. "Sometimes I shout, I swear and I can do nothing but cry. Today would normally be one of those days, but somehow it seems different to be here,".

This piqued George's interest and he turned his head to look at her, the features of his face barely visible in the milky moonlit glow.

"And I wonder if I'm a terrible person for allowing myself to feel happiness today, or at all in fact," Eleanor told him, thinking out loud. "Sometimes I think how can I possibly smile, or laugh... But then I realise that is exactly what she would want,". She paused, fiddling with her fingers. "Terrible things have happened. Life is so unfair, but what good would it be if I stopped living because of those things that have happened? It would almost seem an injustice to... To my mum,". She'd never actually spoken the words of what happened to George, but much like she had, he sort of guessed what had happened.