Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Two of Three (Charlie Weasley)

So, here it is ...

Not sure how I feel about this one. But I had the idea for this absolutely ages ago, and I'm not completely sure it matched my expectations. That being said, I hope you like it still ~~

As always, let me know what you thought; and please leave plenty of comments (because they make my day) 

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I was beginning to hate the smell of St Mungo's. The sterile, faint scent of antibacterial cleaning potions lingered in the air and I was fairly certain they had seeped into my skin and followed me home. Helga knew, no matter how much I scrubbed my skin after each day in this hospital, the smell lingered so much that I wondered if it had fused with my very essence. If that hadn't happened already, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I'd already spent months here -

Helga, it was already months now. If only this could all be over -

I forcefully stopped the thought before it was completed, accepting the wave of guilt that washed over me for thinking that way. It was a horrible, selfish, thing to think and yet, yet it had continued to creep into my mind. No matter how insistently I tried to push it away, it crept back into my mind in the depths of the night. But I refused to let the selfish thought take root, not whilst I was here at least. Whilst I was in this room, sitting beside this bed, I would not let myself finish my thought.

Instead, I let out a long sigh from between parted lips and tilted my head from one side to the other, trying to relieve the ache in my neck. Straightening out my head once more, I looked to the occupied bed, searching the pale almost lifeless face of my young husband. The last few months of him lying in this bed, eyes closed and breathing unsteadily had robbed him of his youth, his body had turned frail and there was no hint of the old him there. He didn't seem like the man I'd married. The hex had robbed him of that.

Breathing out another deep sigh, I reached out a shaking hand, grasping the blanket and lifting it to his chin, just the way he liked. I didn't let my hand linger and drew it back to my lap, clutching both of them tight and squeezing so hard the knuckles had turned white. It was too much -

Sitting here every day, for hours on end after my work day, only to greet and entertain the steady stream of visitors was too much. Playing the role of the dutiful wife was burdensome and draining. Without fail, it always left me feeling empty inside, like maintaining the farce for that long was eating me away on the inside. And yet, I did it anyway. Every day, with no exception. Not for the near stranger in the hospital bed, but rather for the pristine memory of him that still lived on in the minds of all the visitors that came to see him. It was a duty I fulfilled, but once the curtain drew and his visitors all left, it was tiring to strip the costume off and return to the reality of my life as a young witch who was soon to become a widow, to find herself alone again.

The sound of the door opening snapped me from my thoughts, and I prepared to slip effortlessly into my role when there was a call of "Ingham?"

My surname, spoken in that all too familiar and desperately missed voice had me halting instantly. There was no need to pretend, not for him. I stood from my chair in a heartbeat, turning my body to face the wizard who stood in the open doorway of the hospital room. Charlie stood tall, a hand lingering on the door handle as his eyes searched my features. I tried to offer him a small, watery smile, the one I'd given to everyone today. But I failed. The true storm of my emotions came across, just in my eyes alone - I knew that I knew that Charlie had always been able to read my eyes even when I tried to hide them from him.

But now here he was, Charlie, standing tall and looking so much like a pillar of strength that my response was completely instinctual. For the first time in months, since all of this bother had begun, my knees began to falter, letting the weakness I'd tried so hard to hide, came to the surface and I crossed the space between us in rapid paces. Charlie, knowing my mind without my having to say anything, released the door handle and opened his arms, ready to catch me when I went corralling right into his chest. His arms, as strong as they'd always been, wrapped steadily around me and held me tight. Linking my arms behind his back, I clasped them together and burrowed my face into his chest. I breathed in his comforting scent until my lungs ached; until that moment I hadn't realised just how much I'd missed him. I'd missed Charlie so desperately that even my bones felt his absence.