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“It’s a bit much in there, isn’t it?” Ron asks metaphorically, casting a glance over his shoulder at the tent filled to the masses. Hadley shrugs, clenching her fists to stop them shaking. Ron pretends he can’t see them as they rattle like a flag in the wind.
“I’ve never been one for crowds” and ain’t that the truth. From fighting back panic attacks on platform 9 and ¾ or steadying her breathing in Diagon Alley when the buildings seemed to be closing in on her, it hadn’t done much to endear her to mass gatherings of people.
Suddenly a shoulder nudges her own. Hadley looks up at Ron who just points with a smirk to the edge of the tent. Charlie’s brows are furrowed as he eyes them, his dark suit illuminating his seafoam irises. Ron leans towards her, laughter in his voice.
“Looks like someones eager for a chat” and with that Ron’s striding back towards the tent.
“You’re shaking…” a deep voice states softly. She looks at her hands, trembling no matter how hard she fights against them. She forces them into fists with an angry huff. She forces a soft smile onto her face only to be met with a concerned one in return. Warmth shoots through her as a soft, scarred hand encases her own. They stand in the silence, the noise of the reception sweeping over the land surrounding the burrow. Despite it all, the small reprieve offers her a momentary comfort. Hadley lets her eyes trace the burrow, committing every inch of it to memory. She can’t fight away the nauseating feeling that this would be the last time she saw it.
Hadley turns to meet his eyes, red hair falling in front of his face, softening his features.
“I know” Charlie whispers, his eyes soft and understanding.
“This wedding really is beautiful, I’m glad we got the chance to see it” Hadley says instead. Charlie’s hand just shifts to tighten its grip. She hears a giggle and hushed voice. She looks up to see Hermione, Ginny, Mrs Weasley and Remus all watching them from inside the tent. All four quickly turn away as they notice they’ve been caught.
“I want you to promise me something”
“Charlie…”
He pulls her to face him, ignoring the hesitance painted clearly on her face.
“Promise me that, at some point, a year, two, five, however long it takes. Just, promise me, that when it’s all over and we come back here, you’ll let me show you what it means to really live” he begs, eyes desperate, and sad, and hopeful.
“We both know the way this ends Charlie, how it will end” Charlie shakes his head vigorously, his face going red in anger.
“Stop it with the self-sacrificial bullshit! Stop pretending you have nobody. You have Ron, you have Hermione, you have the twins, you have me! We love you! I love you! So stop acting like you have to be the martyr, stop acting like this is all on you! Promise me, we’ll come right back here and make the world our own, promise me” his face is scarlet as his voice breaks on the last word, frustrated tears brimming at the corner of his eyes.
‘Born as the seventh month dies… Neither can live while the other survives…’
The prophecy plays on loop in Hadley’s mind as she processes what he said. She swallows down the guilt gnawing at her throat and shakily meets his gaze.
“You, love me?” she whispers breathlessly.
“Always” he whispers back, just as quietly. The word resounds in her chest, the first time she can recall someone saying they love her aloud.
“Now promise me?” its a promise she’ll never keep and deep down she thinks he knows that. Knows that it’s a promise she can’t hope to keep. Hermione would scold her for being so pessimistic but again, the words of Trelawney would just echo once again.
“I promise” the words burn like acid on her tongue.
His lips are soft and warm as they push softly against her own. The lump in her throat grows. Her heart pounds in her chest. Lies leaving a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. She pulls back, fighting back the voice determine to remind her that this could be the last kiss they’d ever share.
“Let’s go back, I’m not sure the best man is meant to disappear like this” he jokes and she forces a smile, studying his face like it’s the last time she’d ever see it. The ghoul had been put in Ron’s place hours ago. They’d be gone before the reception ended. Ron didn’t want to risk his brothers realising he was going.
They walk back over to the tent, their hands swinging intertwined between them. He moves into the crowd and towards the eldest Weasley brother the second they’re under the cover. She fiddles with Charlie’s too big ring on her finger. Hermione meets her eyes. She knows. She’d packed up her rusack days ago. Her dress twists uncomfortably around her. She is all too aware of the large, circular scar on her upper arm from the basilisk fang. Of the other marks painting her skin.
Hermione places a hand on her shoulder and Hadley has to fight back a flinch. “I’m sorry you didn’t get much time” she whispers, her eyes on Ron who seemed to only half be paying attention to his conversation with his mum. The celebrations raged on around them, oblivious to the torment surrounding it. Forcing a tearful laugh, she repeats something Sirius had once said to her.
“Time never has been in my favour, that’s always been clear” Hermione’s eyes go soft but she ignores her in favour of spotting Charlie in the crowd. His mess of red hair flies around him as he and Bill roar with laughter, blissful and happy smiles lighting up both their faces.
“It has given me a pretty good run, though” she admits just as the blue light grows closer and the patronus crashes through the roof.
One last thought passes through Hadley’s mind as she meets Charlie’s eyes as they apparate away in the chaos. ‘It was good, while it lasted’.
She’d known long before than, that she was on borrowed time.
‘It was good, while it lasted.’