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He didn’t intend to start doing it, it just kind of happened that way.
Every day, Charlie Weasley visited St. Mungo’s and every day, he waited outside her room praying. He kept waiting for his chance, when Susan would give him that smile that indicated he was finally welcome inside. That she wanted him to come inside.
At first, he brought her a flower because it was her favourite. When he asked how she had liked it, he had been told by a sheepish and embarrassed Harry that she had ‘appreciated it’ but her actual favourite flower was peonies, not the orchids that he would give her every birthday after they had started dating.
It was then he remembered that it only became her favourite after he gave her that flower on their first date. Years later, she told him that she would always associate orchids with him, and that was why she loved them so much now.
Dejected, he decided to forgo the orchids until everything was back to normal. Not having her react the way he expected her to hurt too much.
The next day, he brought her a rose simply because he thought it was pretty.
The day after that, he brought her a carnation (Tonks was the one who insisted that his witch would like it. As always, she was correct).
Every day, he would bring her a different flower, either delivered by Harry (most often), Ron (sometimes when his ICW schedule permitted it), Tonks or Ginny.
Never him. At least not yet.
Every day, when he got home from work, he would shower, change, pack a night bag and a few books — okay a lot of books — to keep him entertained. He was hopeful that if — when — he would be permitted inside, he had something else to show her other a disarming smile and a bouquet of flowers.
Not that she didn’t like his flowers… According to Ginny, she had each flower on her windowsill facing her. He knew she slept on her right side and the window was on the left when entering the room, which meant that each morning she would wake up and see the flowers on the windowsill first thing.
It was a small comfort but at least he wasn’t a complete failure of a husband.
Sighing, he rubbed his face and pinched his eyes closed. That blue door haunted his nightmares and every night he stared at it like a man possessed. He hung his head, he couldn’t bear the thought of looking at it much more before he would stop resisting the urge of punching his way through.
“Charlie?” a voice called.
He hung his head lower, her black boots right in front of him and he knew he couldn’t avoid her forever.
“Nymphadora. What do I owe the pleasure?”
“Call me that again and it won’t be very pleasant,” she shot back.
He picked his head up to see her smiling down at him. “Spare me. What are you doing here?”
“Came to see how Hermione was. I’m on shift tonight since Harry is working.”
“Ah. Switched with Ginny?” he asked and she nodded her head. “At least you’ll be better company. Not that I don’t love my sister, but ever since she entered into her second trimester she’s been, ah…”
“Moody?”
“I was going to say acting like a banshee, but sure let’s go with that.”
Throwing her head back, she laughed before shoving him aside on the bench. She sat down, threw her feet over his lap and relaxed against the wall.
“Comfortable?” he asked, adjusting so her legs weren’t pressing against liver.
“Oh very, except my pillows aren’t usually so sulky and depressed.”
“I’m not sulky” he muttered as he rifled through his backpack. He passed her a book before he went back to his discarded Dragon’s Digest.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were. If my husband didn’t remember me, I would be moody too.”
“How is Remus?” he asked, avoiding her comment and her raised eyebrow.
“Tired. Teddy is teething already and decided his stuffy was a good teether. Sirius is keeping him company in my absence. Before I left, he was rather pleased with my son’s choice of teether.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s the wolf one.”
“Remus must love that,” Charlie chuckled.
“Oh, trust me, he does,” Tonks smirked. “Or he will. Exposure therapy and all that.”
“Uh-huh,” Charlie deflected, sensing a change in topic coming.
“Susan seems to think there’s some merit to that, you know. Hermione did very well with the treatment a few weeks ago,” Tonks said softly, but Charlie was already shaking his head.
“Susan seemed to think thrusting her into a room filled with people she doesn’t know was a grand idea and look how that turned out,” Charlie scoffed.
“Knows, Charlie. People she knows.”
Sighing, he shook his head and tossed his book to the side, this conversation unavoidable.
“I wish that were true, but whatever that bastard did to her took away all her memories. As far as she knows, we’re complete strangers. She doesn’t know us. She doesn’t know you or Remus and Teddy, or Ginny… No one!” he snarled, clenching his fists and feeling tears well up in his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry, damn it!
“She knows you,” Tonks argued softly.
A cold, bitter laugh escaped him, the sound leaving him feeling hollow.
“Oh yeah, was that before or after she collapsed and started seizing on the floor? How the mere thought of me or what we had was enough to nearly kill her,” he hissed as he shot up from the bench, Tonk’s legs flying off as he began to pace.
“I mean, it’s bad enough she was targeted right? Or the fact that she was left alone? How I left her alone. That it had to be Malfoy of all people to find her. How she was left unconscious on that floor for hours before Malfoy had the sense to check on her,” Charlie seethed as he felt the tight bands of anxiety squeezing in his lungs, his throat, his brain. He lifted his hands to his head.
“How when she woke up, she couldn’t remember the last ten years and is only now getting the smallest of details? How even though she did wake up, a piece of her still died that day?” Charlie gasped out, the words escaping him, months of pent-up emotion finally spilling over. Charlie was always known as a patient, stable man but every stone has a day where it starts to crack.
“She doesn’t remember Tonks! She doesn’t remember how she would sing in the shower or dip her chips in milkshake or wear my jumpers because she insists that they are more comfortable, despite them being made from the same fabric as hers. She doesn’t remember how she would pour over the research books in Romania or the first letter she sent me asking why dragon scales were so potent in creating healing draughts,” Charlie cried, tears running down his cheeks.
“She doesn’t remember the talks we would have at night. About how she would expand her business and hire what’s her name so she could come home earlier. She doesn’t remember how she was almost done with the memory potion to help her parents — or how that same potion could help her now. She doesn’t remember how she was so stubborn about having an autumn wedding because she wanted the leaves changing colours in the orchard or how beautiful she looked in her wedding dress, or how happy she made me simply for existing in my life. How complete it made me to have her as my wife. She doesn’t remember, Tonksy,” Charlie sniffled.
Tonks’ heart broke hearing the childhood nickname and the way Charlie’s voice trembled and broke on the last word.
“She doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t remember us,” Charlie said, slidding to the floor and hanging his head in his hands as Tonks sat beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do, please?” Charlie cried and Tonks shook her head, as much at a loss as he was.
“Just be here. It’s all you can do. You’ve been a sure and steady presence ever since you met her. She’ll remember it, Charlie, I have faith,” she encouraged.
“I have faith, I do, I’m just…” Charlie sighed, the burden almost too much.
“Overwhelmed?” Tonks guessed, making Charlie almost smile.
“Yeah… It’s been three months. I don’t know why I expected more. She needs time. Susan was very clear about the time thing,” Charlie said quietly before he sighed and squared his shoulders, nudging Tonks as he wiped his eyes.
“Thanks for being here,” Charlie whispered.
“Where else would I be? My best friend needs me. My friend is lying in a hospital bed with no idea how much of a bad arse she is. I won’t sit back and do nothing,” Tonks smirked.
“You’re doing everything. Thank you,” Charlie smiled, making Tonks grin before her eye wandered to the newest plant in Charlie’s growing collection.
“What’s that? Never seen it before?”
Charlie smiled and brought the small plant to her, the green leaves and smell calming his nerves.
“Myrtle. Neville was telling me about some of the plants he used in his own research and recommended it to me. Said all this stuff about its history, but I’ll be honest I didn’t catch much of it. Just that it meant independence, stability, and tenacity.”
“Three things that define Hermione Granger-Weasley,” Tonks laughed before her eyes softened. “Three things that define Charlie Weasley too.”
“I guess so,” Charlie blushed before he handed it to her and got to his feet, helping Tonks stand as well.
“She’ll like it. I know she will. I have a sixth sense about these things, you know,” Tonks winked before she went inside Hermione’s room.
Charlie went back to his bench sitting and door staring routine, one that had become second nature by then.
He was used to it, especially in these trying times and hardly anything made him deviate from it.
Except for today.
Something was nudging him awake. A very small something, until there finally was a loud thunk on his head that sent him shooting straight up.
“Get up you great big bastard!” Tonk’s voice swam through his sleep hazed head as he rubbed his eyes, only to see Tonk’s wide smile and Susan standing right next to her.
“Susan! What’s happened, is she alright?” Charlie asked, alarmed at the sight of Hermione’s healer.
With a nod, Charlie’s nerves settled but that still didn’t explain the rude awakening.
“She’s asking for you, Charlie!” Tonk’s said and she pushed him towards the door.
“What?” he asked quietly, not believing her words until Susan confirmed them.
“She’s asking for you, specifically. She wants you to come in,” Susan said softly as she led them to the door. “She asked for her husband.”
Charlie gulped.
“You can go inside now.”