Chapter Text
Training dragons was and always would be a hazardous industry and, as a dragon tamer, Charlie Weasley was no stranger to that fact. Over the years working in Romania, he had had countless dragon related injuries and emergencies and wore nicks, scrapes, and scars in the same way others wore medals. Still though, there was a first time for everything, he thought, as the Chinese Fireball he'd been attempting to stun and capture set his wand alight in a burst of brilliant scarlet flame.
There were plenty of capable wandmakers in Romania, he knew, but Molly Weasley sensed trouble like a heat-seeking missile and, when he wrote to her checking up on the family and describing what had happened, she demanded that he return home at once to get a proper wand at Ollivanders.
A younger Charlie might have written off this request, his mother had always had a nasty habit of hovering, but having lost so many friends and- God- even members of his own family, he understood the plea for what it was. She was worried about him.
And that was what landed him home at The Burrow.
Charlie didn't bother knocking, opening the front door and setting his bag down to the side. Immediately he was enveloped in a hug, his mum repeating, “My Charlie's home,” as if she didn't quite believe it herself. Feeling a tad guilty, he squeezed back.
“Yeah, mum,” he said, throat tightening. “Yeah I'm home.”
Beyond the embrace of his mother, Charlie could see that, even after the repairs, little had changed about the old house. It was almost vibrating with magic. He could hear the clatter of the pots and pans going in the kitchen cooking breakfast no doubt as Molly continued to hug him. Warm sunlight streamed through the windows and the family ghoul rattled and moaned from the attic. The couches and chairs were strewn with knitted blankets and afghans and Charlie could see his mother's needles clicking away at the next round of Weasley family jumpers.
God why didn't he come home more often?
Realizing finally that he needed to breathe like everyone else, Molly stepped back, keeping her hands on his shoulders and admiring her son. She jolted as a thought seemed to occur to her.
“Good heavens! The others don't even know that you're here yet!”
Charlie started at that. “Others? Mum I told you I'm just here to-”
“Boys! Ginny!” she shouted ignoring him and moving for the stairs. “Come down here and say hello to your brother!”
“Mum,” Charlie insisted again. “I'm just here to get a new wand, you didn't have to go and invite everyone.”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say and, the moment that Molly put her hands on her hips, Charlie realized what a grave mistake he'd made.
“Excuse me!” she began incredulously. “Of course I've gone and invited them, Charlie. I cannot believe what I'm hearing! You don't visit, you don't call. Your poor mother and father are lucky if they can get a letter from you even once every two months -”
“Mum please,” Charlie attempted to say, but she pressed on.
“- and what do you have to say when we finally get your letter? ‘Oh hello mum hello dad my bloody dragon nearly killed me, how's the garden coming?’”
At that moment, likely having heard the commotion, Arthur made his way downstairs. “Everything alright, my darling?” he asked, kissing his wife soundly on the cheek. Before she could answer, he stepped swiftly over to Charlie pulling him into a hug. “I'm so glad you're here, son.”
“I'm glad to be here dad,” Charlie replied, “but like I've just told mum, I really have to-”
“Arthur! You tell your son that he will not be going anywhere so soon!”
Arthur looked between the two, his darling wife and beloved son, and made the correct choice. “Sorry, Charlie but your mother has a point. Besides everyone's here to see you, I'm sure you can spare just one day for your dear family.”
Charlie closed his eyes for a few moments and accepted that his schedule would need to be changed. Just a bit. He made a mental note to Floo his boss in the morning.
“Alright you win,” he said finally. “But if everyone’s here, where are they exactly?”
His mother froze for a second, stunned that he'd given up so easily before springing into action. “Boys you get down here right this instant or there'll be no breakfast left for any of you!”
There was an indignant shout followed by the sound of pounding feet. Molly hurried into the kitchen to finish up the meal.
“Good on you, son,” Arthur said, clasping his shoulder. “We really do miss you.”
Charlie looked hard at his father. The years had taken a hefty toll on him. What hair he had left was far more silver than red these days and the lines in his face were growing deep-set. He thought back to that night, the night that Harry saw . . . what he saw.
Throat stopping once again, Charlie said, “And I miss you all too, dad.”
Satisfied, Arthur clapped his hands together. “Brilliant! Now, what have you brought me?” he asked excitedly.
Charlie laughed and reached into his pocket. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much, not like that rubber duck but,” he said, pulling out a small plane. “I hope this’ll do. It’s a muggle toy, figured it would tide you over until you figure out how the real thing works.”
Arthur’s face lit up. “Wonderful, Charlie! Absolutely wonderful! Ingenious muggles are, aren’t they?”
“Sure they are, dad,” Charlie replied but his father was already walking away, planning to disassemble the thing to see how it worked no doubt.
“Bloody hell he really is here,” Charlie heard. He turned finding Ginny paused on the stairs, Ron a few paces behind. She seemed unsure what to do for a moment and he couldn’t blame her. They weren’t exactly strangers, but he was distinctly aware of the fact that there was more going on in her life than he’d ever been aware of. She really was growing up, wasn’t she? He didn’t get the chance to finish this reflection before she launched herself at him.
“You idiot!” she said laughing. “What on earth was that letter?”
Charlie sighed. “Yeah, I’ve heard. I’m the worst son ever, you all miss me, and mum’ll never let me out of her sight again. That about sum it up?”
Ginny pulled back and punched him hard in the shoulder. “You forgot the part where you bet me that the Harpies wouldn’t make it past the quarter finals of the World Cup. Pay up brother dearest.”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Sure, just one second. Cough it up,” he said, turning to Ron.
Ron reached into his pocket. “Bloody hell you’ve only been home five minutes.” He pulled out a handful of Knuts, Sickles, and a single gold Galleon, dropping them into his brother’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” Charlie drawled, counting out the appropriate amount of change and handing it off to Ginny. He put the rest in his pocket. “Believe me it hurts me to do this to you, Ronald. Wish you’d stop betting on the Canons. For your own sake.”
“Excuse me,” Molly said poking her head out of the kitchen, “but if we’re all finished running a gambling ring in my house, breakfast is ready.”