Lyra || Charlie Weasley ||

Anyone expires on my watch, I'm treating you with Skele-Gro shots!

"Pass the eyeliner, would you?" Hermione asks, leaning towards the mirror to carefully apply a sweep of shadow across her lid.

I hand her the slim tube from amidst the colorful chaos covering the bureau before turning back to Ginny. "Damn, that dress should be illegal!" I whistle appreciatively as she does a cheeky twirl.

Ginny smirks, emerald silk hugging every curve to perfection. "Could say the same about you, love! This does wonders for that ass of yours." She punctuates the statement with a swift smack to my backside that has me yelping.

"Gin! Keep your hands to yourself," I scold through laughter. Behind us, Hermione shakes her head amusedly.

"With all the pining and tension between you two, seems it would make more sense for you both to just date each other instead."

Ginny and I exchange impish grins.

"Not a bad idea... what do you say, Ly?" Ginny quipped, eliciting giggles from both of us.

 "Well, if you promise me free Harpies tickets, I could be persuaded," I volley back playfully.

Her tinkling laugh echoes through the room. "Tempting! Alas, I think a certain muscular, ginger-haired brother of mine might have something to say about that."

Warmth floods my cheeks at the mention of Charlie and I busy myself ostensibly digging through my bag for lipgloss. In truth, visions of Charlie's reaction when he sees me in this slinky black number quicken my pulse delightfully.

Ginny, bless her, takes pity and changes the subject. "So you two will need help unpacking and setting up the new flat next week, right?" Hermione and I have rented out an apartment in London, three blocks away from Harry and Ron's. Ginny will start travelling with the team. Ara is going to stay with Mum and Dad because he likes to live in Manors.  

I nod gratefully for the redirect and the help. "The boys offered assistance, but we'll need all the strong backs we can get. Charlie will be there of course but with your Quidditch honed muscles, we need you too, Gin!"

She flexes an arm obligingly as we dissolve into renewed giggles at the thought of Harry or Ron succumbing to back injuries schlepping boxes.

"Can see the Prophet headlines now..." Ginny proclaims in her best reporter voice. "'Boy Who Lived Felled By Cardboard Cartons'!"

Ginny's impression of the tabloid reporter sends us into renewed peals of laughter that carries us all the way downstairs. The boys let out appreciative whistles at our entrance and I flush, smoothing hands self-consciously down my figure-hugging dress.

"Looking good, ladies!" George grins with a dramatic wink, clearly well on his way to tipsy already.

Beside him Ron shakes his head, though his ears burn red. "Reckon mum would keel over if she saw you lot going out like that," he mutters. But Harry nudges him sharply in the ribs before he can put his foot in it further.

Hermione just tosses her artfully tousled curls and breezes past the rowdy group toward the door on clicking heels. "Shall we? I want at least a few dances before you all get too sloshed to stand." Laughing, Ginny and I join arms with her and make our equally dramatic exit, leaving a chorus of good-natured jeers in our glittery wake.

The muggle club pulses with frenetic music, the press of ecstatic bodies moving as one in the strobing lights. We lose ourselves to the electric, euphoric atmosphere, leaving wider world worries muffled outside these soaring walls.

Some time later I break from the dance floor, flushed and parched. Wending my way toward the bar, familiar hands catch at my hips. I turn to find Charlie beaming down at me, devastatingly handsome in jeans and a bomber jacket.