Title: Leave Me Like the Light
Author: gracerene
Characters/Pairings: Charlie/Bill, implied past Charlie/OCs
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Coitus a unda/Undinism: Sex in/under water
Other Warnings/Content: underage (Charlie is going into 7th year), sibling incest, frottage, angst
Word Count: ~3,600
Summary/Description: It's Bill and Charlie's last summer together.
Author's Notes: Sorry for posting a day late! Yesterday was utter chaos and it completely slipped my mind. :/ Anyway, this scenario and pairing immediately popped into my head for this month's themes, which was super exciting, as I've only ever drabbled with these two before. I hope you all enjoy. :D Title is from the poem "If You Should Go" by Countee Cullen.

Charlie stared up at the ceiling, watching apathetically as a small black spider scuttled across the peeling white paint. The air was hot and heavy, a product of the Burrow's design and the late summer heat. He had opened the window just over his bed earlier that morning, and the faint breeze that now rustled over his feverish skin every couple of minutes barely qualified as relief. Even clad only in a pair of loose-fitting shorts, the heat was still oppressive; if it weren't for the fact that his mum had confiscated his wand the moment he'd gotten off the Hogwarts Express for the summer, he'd have cast a Cooling Charm in a heartbeat, underage magic laws be damned. He'd be seventeen in four months, anyway.

As it was, Charlie was forced to suffer in the sticky heat, stuck with the sweat that beaded across his upper lip and behind his neck and along the small of his back. He was miserable, but that was hardly the heat's fault. He'd been miserable for months now, ever since he'd boarded the train back to London with Bill at his side, knowing that it would be the last time they left school together. His misery had only increased as the days passed and Bill got a job, a real one, further rubbing it into Charlie's face that he was moving on. And then, Bill broke the news last month at dinner that he'd be leaving for Egypt at the end of August to fill a spot that had just opened up at Gringotts. Bill hadn't even had the decency to tell Charlie about it in private, to tell him first. Charlie had to sit there with the rest of the family and pretend to be happy for Bill while everything inside of him slowly withered away to dust. Bill hadn't even been able to look at him.

Charlie closed his eyes and drew in a deep, shuddering breath, willing himself not to cry. He wasn't a baby anymore, and he shouldn't be crying like one just because his big brother had a life that didn't involve him. It was always going to happen. Charlie just hadn't realised it would hurt so badly.

They had always been close, and Charlie was sometimes embarrassed by how obviously he worshipped the ground Bill walked on. Bill was his older brother, the oldest brother, and he had always been so cool and confident. He was one hundred percent himself all of the time, and Charlie couldn't help but admire that. Charlie was drawn to him, always had been. The easy confidence was something Charlie hadn't quite mastered himself, though he tried desperately to emulate Bill's effortless ease. Charlie wanted that surety for himself, but it was hard to accomplish when dark desires whispered in Charlie's ears, when things stirred inside of him late at night that he knew were wrong.

When Bill first left for Hogwarts, it had been awful. Charlie had cried himself to sleep for weeks; it had been all right do that, then—he was only a little boy. Bill had written to him every week, and when he came back for the holidays, he would regaled Charlie with stories of Hogwarts, with the things Charlie would have to look forward to the next year when they were reunited once more. Those months while he was away at school were the longest stretch of time they'd ever been apart—before or since—and the relief Charlie had felt when Bill had come home for the summer had been palpable.

It had been terrible then, being separated from his best friend, his hero, but Charlie had made it through. Mostly because, after the brief period of hysteria when Bill had first left, Charlie realised it was only temporary. His mum got him a calendar after the first month, and Charlie would count down the days until Bill's return, solemnly striking through each day before bed and comforting himself with the knowledge that Bill's absence was only temporary.

Charlie didn't have that comfort now.

His eyes prickled and his throat grew tight as he struggled under the tidal wave of sadness that threatened to drown him where he lay. Bill was an adult now. He was moving on, getting a job and going away to where Charlie couldn't follow. This time the separation wouldn't be temporary. Charlie probably wouldn't even see him over the holidays, wouldn't even have that small consolation to keep him warm at night in a castle that already seemed empty and barren. It hurt, a steady throb of emptiness in his chest at the thought of going months, years, without seeing Bill. It killed Charlie to think of the bond between them, stronger than any other Charlie had ever had, growing pale and weak, fading over the years down to a wisp of a memory.

He hadn't spent much time with Bill that summer, and ever since Bill's little announcement, Charlie had been even more purposefully avoiding him. One would think that would be difficult, considering they shared a room with one another, but Bill's Cursebreaker training at Gringotts took up most of his time during the week, and Charlie had managed to snag the night shift over at Killey's Clinic for the Care of Magical Creatures. Working with the animals soothed him. It was the only time all summer where he felt at peace, where the hurt and pain and heartbreak seeped away.

Charlie knew he was being foolish, and that he'd likely regret pushing Bill away instead of savouring the time they had left. Bill was leaving soon, and Charlie didn't know when they'd see each other again. But he just couldn't bring himself to reach out. He was afraid that everything he felt would become obvious, that the depth of his feelings would be exposed. Charlie didn't think he could bare that.

He hated Bill for leaving, for moving on when Charlie couldn't.

He hated himself more.

Charlie hated himself for what he felt, for the desires that took root in him and grew like a viscous tangled weed, insidious and persistent, no matter how hard Charlie tried to get rid of them. And oh, how Charlie had tried. For years he had pushed down his shameful impulses and urges, only for them to creep back out from the depths of his soul the moment he let down his guard.

A breeze, this one stronger than before, blew in through the window, raising gooseflesh across the sweat-damp skin of Charlie's legs and arms, and hardening his nipples into peaks. The wind brought with it a heady and familiar scent, something earthy and bitter. Charlie turned to look over at Bill's bed on the other side of the room, taking in the dirty clothes dumped in a pile on the floor and the mussed up sheets. Arousal stirred inside him, and Charlie clenched his eyes shut, clamping down on the lust that urged him to slide his hand down into his pants where his flesh was beginning to stiffen.

Sometimes, Charlie thought he was being punished, as if Bill was moving away because of Charlie, because he wanted things no brother should want. Maybe some higher power was taking temptation away from him, before he ruined the most important relationship he had. Or, even worse, perhaps Bill sensed that Charlie's regard for him wasn't entirely platonic. Maybe he thought Charlie was a freak. Maybe he was moving to another country just to get away from his sick brother who couldn't seem to entirely rid himself of his inappropriate feelings, no matter how desperately he tried.

The thought of Bill's disgust killed Charlie's burgeoning arousal quicker than Avada Kedavra. Which, of course, meant that was exactly the moment that Bill chose to come bursting into their room.

Charlie sat up in wide-eyed surprise, his heart thudding louder than a herd of galloping unicorns.

"What are you doing here?"

Bill's grinned. "S'my room too, isn't it?"

"I thought you went to Diagon with the rest of them."

Letters had come from Hogwarts last week with the list of supplies, and their parents had packed up the entire Weasley clan that morning for a day of shopping. It used to be Charlie's favourite part of summer, the anticipation of heading back to school, soaking in the buzzing excitement at Diagon with all the other parents and children preparing for another year of school.

This year, Charlie hadn't been able to manage the enthusiasm.

He didn't want to put a damper on his younger brothers' excitement, but he knew he wouldn't last an entire day pretending that the thought of going back to Hogwarts without Bill didn't make him feel like he'd been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. So he'd begged off, claiming he was exhausted from his late shifts at the Clinic, and after much fussing, his mum had pressed a kiss to his head, informed him that there were plenty of leftovers downstairs if he got hungry, and shooed the rest of the family through the Floo. Bill had gone with them. He'd been one of the first to disappear through the fireplace, his tall form vanishing in a puff of green flame. Charlie remembered watching him leave with a sour taste in his mouth, wondering if it would be so easy for him to vanish from Charlie's life, too.

"Begged off sick," Bill said, sitting on his bed and looking calmly at Charlie. "Didn't much feel up to dealing with all the back-to-school madness."

Charlie nodded, unable to bring himself to look directly at Bill. He stood and made for the door. "I'll leave you alone so you can rest then," he said, feeling vulnerable and exposed in just his shorts. It was the first time they'd really been alone together all summer. That was the good thing about the Burrow during the holidays, there was no shortage of siblings to surround yourself with when necessary.

But all his siblings were gone, now, save one, and Bill didn't seem inclined to let Charlie escape so easily. "Nah, I'm not really sick, just wanted to get away from the madness," Bill said. His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable layer of something harder beneath it that told Charlie there was about to be a reckoning. "But getting out of here seems like just the ticket. This room is sweltering. I thought we could go down to the pond for a bit of a cool down, like we used to. We haven't been all summer."

Charlie shrugged and managed to meet Bill's eyes, something small and angry sparking up inside him. "Maybe you haven't," he said, cooly. "The rest of us have been loads. But I guess you've been busy."

Charlie turned back and walked out the bedroom door, but he didn't miss the narrowing of Bill's eyes or the tightening of his mouth. He didn't get far before he heard Bill's footsteps behind him. "You're right," Bill said, his voice so close behind Charlie it made him shiver. He didn't slow down, though, or look behind him as he descended the stairs. "I've been busy. We both have. Which is why we should take advantage of us both being free. It's the perfect day for a swim."

Charlie hesitated on the landing, unsure if he should head for the kitchen, or for the back door and towards the path to the pond. Bill stepped in front of him, blue eyes clear and earnest as he stared at Charlie. "Come on. For old time's sake."

Charlie knew it was a bad idea. The swirling maelstrom of his tempestuous emotions was dangerously close to the surface, looking for the slightest excuse to come pouring out. Even so, he missed Bill, missed him with every ounce of his being. The summer had been an exercise in painful loneliness, one that Charlie knew would only get worse once Bill left for good. Why not let himself have a few more happy memories to heat himself with during the long and bitter cold of Bill's absence? It was going to hurt like hell no matter what; he might as well see if he could make the present a little more bearable.

Charlie stepped out the back door, a small smile tugging at his lips when Bill cheered and clapped a heavy arm around Charlie's shoulders. It felt good, that strong, anchoring presence of Bill's arm wrapped around him. The sun heated their skin as they walked down the winding path towards the pond, and the the familiar earthy scent of Bill's skin seemed to seep into Charlie's senses, blurring out everything else but Bill. He wanted to tug Bill close and bury his head against his neck, wanted to squeeze him tightly and never let him go. Charlie wanted other things, too, things that made his heart race and his face flush with desire and shame. He did his best to ignore them, and hoped Bill would blame his colour on the beating sun.

Bill cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm when they reached the pond, and Charlie looked at him askance.

"Not in the mood to deal with any of the neighbor children today. This way we'll have the pond all to ourselves."

The words slithered across Charlie's skin in a deliciously tempting caress. Warmth pooled in his belly. Charlie liked that Bill wanted to spend time with only him, and the feeling was as delightful as it was dangerous. He didn't trust himself when he was alone with Bill, not anymore. Bill's leaving had left cracks in the cement box Charlie had kept his untoward feeling in, and he was terrified that they might burst free at any moment.

It certainly seemed a possibility, especially when confronted with the image of Bill stripping off his kit and stepping into the water, naked as the day he was born. He was tall, the muscles of his chest and thighs were lean and defined, and his cock was impressive, even laying soft between his legs. His skin was pale and covered in a multitude of freckles, and Charlie wanted to trace every single one with his tongue. Charlie knew he was looking, staring, and he tore his eyes away before Bill could catch him out.

"Come on, Charlie," Bill called, his deep voice sun-drenched and happy. "The water's perfect."

Charlie stripped off quickly. He lingered for a moment over his pants, debating the merits of keeping them on. But Bill would just give him shit for it, and it wasn't worth the explanation of why he felt like he needed that layer of fabric.

The second he was naked he practically dived into the pond, eager to submerge his body beneath the murky water. Already, he could feel himself reacting to Bill, to his larger-than-life presence, to his very real, very naked body not ten feet away.

They swam together for awhile in easy silence, the cool of the water, the light summer breeze, and the brightness of the day soothing some of the irritation buzzing beneath Charlie's skin. Until.

"Are you ready to tell me why you've been avoiding me?"

Charlie continued his broad stroke through the water, pretending he didn't hear Bill's question, that his heart wasn't threatening to beat itself to death.

A hand, rough and sure, grabbed Charlie's forearm, causing him to stop and sputter. He stood, the water coming up to just below his nipples, and glared at Bill. Bill looked at him with steady, patient eyes.

"M'not avoiding you," Charlie said. Even to his ears it sounded pathetic.

"I've barely seen you all summer," Bill countered. He sounded...sad, his expression was tinged with loss, and Charlie's entire body ached with it. "I'm leaving in a couple weeks."

Anger spiked through Charlie, hot and bitter. "And who's fault is that?" Charlie spat. He turned, more than ready to head back to the Burrow and bury his head in his blankets.

Bill caught him again, turning him roughly to face back around, this time not letting go. "Don't be like that, Charlie."

"Like what?"

"It's not like I want to leave you."

Charlie felt the hot sting of tears well up in a great pressure behind his eyes. "Yeah, well, you are anyway, aren't you?" His voice was thick and wobbly with emotion, and he averted his eyes, unable to look at Bill directly without bursting into tears.

"Charlie," Bill breathed softly.

"Don't, all right. Just don't. You're leaving and that's that."

Bill's hands tightened on Charlie's biceps, sending little tingles racing over Charlie's skin and straight down to his cock. Even through the bitter anger and piercing sadness, his body still was more than ready to let desire take the reins. He swallowed, trying to fight off the sudden realisation of Bill's proximity and his instinctual reaction.

"Look at me, Charlie."

Charlie shook his head. He was too busy beating back tears and arousal to be confronted with a full frontal assault. But Bill wasn't content to take no for an answer. One of his hands moved, sliding over Charlie's shoulder in a shudder-inducing slide, before cupping Charlie's chin and tilting his face up towards Bill.

The sun shone down on the both of them, setting the red-gold of Bill's hair on fire. Droplets of water slid down the hollow of his throat and across his smooth freckled shoulders. It beaded along the fine strands of ginger hair smattered across Bill's chest, refracting the sunlight like thousands of tiny crystals. Charlie had never seen a Veela, but he imagined they wouldn't be able to hold a candle to Bill right now, shining in the summer sunlight.

"Oh, Charlie," Bill said, his voice low and sweet. "You know I love you, right? That won't change, not ever."

His blue eyes were clear and fierce, and Charlie nodded, feeling the truth of those words even if it wasn't enough. "I know," he whispered.

"I'm going to miss you. So fucking much."

Charlie's breath caught, unshed tears threatening to spill over even as his cock hardened. "I'm going to miss you, too."

Bill's fingers ghosted across Charlie's cheek. "I'm going to remember you just like this, whenever I get lonely."

"Yeah?" Charlie breathed. He felt a little dizzy, perhaps from the heat or the glare of the sun reflecting off the water.

Bill nodded, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Charlie's forehead. Charlie gasped, eyes fluttering closed. His cock twitched and his toes curled into the smooth silt at the bottom of the pond as Bill moved down, pressing a kiss to Charlie's closed eyelids, his nose, the curve of his cheek, and the bow of his lips. They were light, fluttering, playful things. Innocent, brotherly affection. Bill didn't mean anything by it, but Charlie still couldn't help himself, couldn't stop his lips from dropping open on a moan when Bill's mouth slanted over his own.

Bill gasped, a shudder wracking his frame, and then the kiss deepened, turning into something deep and eager and frantic. He jerked Charlie's body close, and Charlie didn't have time to feel ashamed or embarrassed about his hard-on, because Bill was hard too, his erection pressing against his own.

It all happened so fast, the slick, hungry kiss, bodies rocking together, their hard cocks pressed between their stomachs and sliding hot and filthy against one another. Charlie clung to Bill's shoulders as he kissed Bill with everything he had, unchecked pleasure roiling through him like a heavy wind dragging across a lake. Bill's hands gripped Charlie's arse, urging him onward, pulling him in against Bill's body again and again. His hands dug into Charlie's arse cheeks, fingers slipping and sliding along the water-slick skin. Several digits rubbed across Charlie's hole in a gentle caress, promising an intimacy Charlie hadn't ever experienced. He'd never thought about it before, never been interested with any of his few partners at Hogwarts, but with Bill...

Charlie pictured it, imagined what it might feel like to be so close to Bill, for their bodies to be one. He shuddered and whimpered into Bill's mouth as he came, his cock erupting between their stomachs. Bill rocked against him faster, harder, and then his hands spasmed against Charlie's arse as he found his own release.

Their kisses slowed and sweetened as the swirling water washed their release away, and Charlie drifted down from the dizzying high of his orgasm. Bill's hands slid up from Charlie's arse, stroking up and down Charlie's back in a sensual, comforting motion.

"I wish you weren't leaving," Charlie whispered against Bill's lips when they finally parted. He knew he should probably feel freaked out and guilty about what had just happened, but instead he felt perfectly, blissfully content. Charlie was sure the freak-out would come later, but for now he was going to enjoy the afterglow.

Bill smiled at him a little sadly, and ruffled Charlie's hair. "I know. But I'm not gone yet. We should make the most of these last few weeks, don't you think?"

There was the tiniest hint of suggestion, of possibility, in Bill's tone, and Charlie shuddered. A lot could happen in three weeks, and Charlie was positive he'd need every last memory to draw strength from once Bill was gone, once the reality of what they'd done had fully sunk in.

In the meantime there was summer and sunshine and Bill's sparkling blue eyes and wicked smile.

"Yeah," Charlie said. "I think we should make the most of it."