The Deep Breath Before the Dive - Goblet of Fire - Book 3

Chapter 20: Trust

Charlie

    Charlie walked around the now-abandoned campsite for almost an hour, the fires still burning, though they had turned to orange embers amongst smoking ash. The night was colder now, and darker, for the Dark Mark had started to diminish, though it's presence did not make Charlie forgot what he'd seen.
He didn't know what scared him more: the Death Eaters, or Storm herself.
     The way she had undoubtedly fought alongside her friends, the way she did not run, tending to her friend with blood down her face and fire in her veins.
He'd never forget her eyes either - the colour of Mercury and without a trace of the light he'd been so accustomed to seeing. Even the way she held her wand, was like it was a sword or whip.

     Charlie had sat on the floor amongst the ruins of the site, laying on the ground and staring up at the green skull still spitting out its tongue.
He was scared.
Not of the Death Eaters. Nor of You-Know-Who. He was scared of how far he would go for the woman he loved. Of what he would do if anyone ever hurt her. How could he not be fearful, when his emotions were no longer his own?

Charlie lay there, quite still, closing his eyes to try and relieve some of his worry. But then, out of nowhere, he felt her. He sensed her presence. He could feel it as sharply as a slap in the face.
"Charlie?"
Charlie said nothing, except opened his eyes.
"I know I have no right to ask - but can you help me?"
'Oh, my Queen. I'd do anything for you.'
     Charlie sat up, trying to be as stoic as possible, because if he moved too quickly, he would lose his resolve and ravish her.
     "Will I be helping Storm, or Her Majesty?" He asked, almost through gritted teeth. He didn't mean to be so agitated.
     "Both."

     He finally looked up at her, her eyes were back to their usual brightness, but she did not hold herself the same way. It was as though tonight was what she'd been waiting for.
     "Where are we going?" He asked, knowing full well he'd help her regardless of whatever she said.
Storm glanced sideways and Charlie saw Gareth the Auror stood a few metres away. He nodded, slowly getting to his feet as Storm turned on her heel.
     "I'll bid you goodnight, Gareth." She said politely, yet dismissively. The older Auror looked confused. "I shall meet you at the Ministry at 9am. Along with Mr Shacklebolt and Marty." She smiled at him and outstretched her hand. "I assure you, Charlie Weasley - 'Dragon-Tamer' - is well up to the task of protecting me."
     "O-of course, Your Majesty." He spluttered, bowing his head. "Goodnight, Your Majesty."

     Charlie would've laughed at the way the Auror stumbled over his words. If not for the fact that she'd called him a Dragon-Tamer.
     "Don't ever call me that again." He frowned as he caught up to her side. "It's impossible to tame a wild beast." He'd always preferred Keeper.
     "Maybe for you." She smirked. And, while she'd usually be rude with her remark, this time, Charlie heard her friendly teasing. And it threw him completely out of whack.
     Had she suffered a head injury? Who was this witch?
     Charlie stayed silent, suddenly feeling very awkward. Like he was 14 years old again.
     But why should he be awkward? It wasn't like his recent revelations had been new to him. He'd always known.
     Deep down.

     Without warning, she'd grabbed his arm and the churning of Disapparation squeezed his core. And when his feet met solid ground again, some of his frustrations escaped.
     But not in the form of words.
     He couldn't help himself, still reeling from the night, and everything since, he pulled her body against his, holding her head to look up at him.
     "Do you enjoy torturing me?" He growled, hardly able to control himself as his lungs drank her in, her sweet aroma ever-changing. Now she was rich, with a hint of spice. And he could not bear to be without it.
"I - don't know what you mean."
But Charlie could see the truth buried behind her lashes.
"Don't you?" He replied, dangerously low. He took her hand in his and lay it across his chest, where is heart beat for her. "You are playing games, and I do not play games." Her hand twitched against him. "And you would think me dishonourable if you were to play my games."
The air around them crackled with magic, and the tension grew between them, as Charlie leaned down to her ear, her breathing heavier than it was before.
"Don't push your luck, sweetheart. They don't call the Lion the 'King of the Jungle' for nothing."