InsaneJournal

RP: Breakfast is whenever the first meal of the day happens
Who: Charlie Weasley & Romilda Vane
What: Breakfast and chatter
Where: Charlie & Romi's flat
When: Saturday 6th September, around 1pm
Rating: NSFW - language



Charlie blinked slowly awake around 1pm. For most of his life he'd been an early riser, between a busy family home, early quidditch practice and school work for most of Hogwarts and a lot of early morning duties in Romania he'd become accustomed to the early hours. Now, he was seeing them more before he went to bed and sleeping the morning away on a regular basis.

He stretched, and for half a second he thought he could feel both of his legs moving as they had used to, but then the feeling was gone and he sat up, massaging his right thigh through his pyjamas. He was lucky that he didn't have much by way of the phantom pains that he had been warned about, but for half a second most mornings he forgot that he was now missing a lot of his right leg.

There was a plaintive mew from the other side of the bed and Charlie smiled as he pushed himself up. The kitten he'd picked up from Luna on Thursday had taken to sleeping mostly on his pillow after sitting and protesting at him until he picked him up and placed him on the bed on the first night. Since then he'd made it himself with a jump and clamber combination. "Afternoon, little guy. Breakfast soon, okay. Gotta piss first." He stroked a finger down the kitten's soft back and then scratched obligingly when his hand was butted by an insistent head. "Seriously, you may be gorgeous but my bladder is more important right now," he said. Ignoring the little mew of protest he swung himself around and picked up his wand, summoning his crutches to his side he made his way to the bathroom and was soon swinging himself back into the bedroom. He set about strapping on his leg so he could leave the crutches, and pulled on a tshirt.

"Come on, you need food, and I need coffee," he said, addressing the still nameless kitten. "Also food, but coffee first." He wandered into the kitchen and set the kettle to boil with a flick of his wand before grabbing the kitten food and setting about feeding the fluffy individual who had followed him after a few seconds. "You really need a name, buddy," he said, glancing at the kitten that was apparently butting against his prosthetic leg. "Not going to work, it feels fuck all."