Charlie Weasley (flameandfreckle) wrote in reduxpitch, @ 2016-08-25 12:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: charlie weasley, character: oliver wood |
Don't want you thinking I'm unhappy, what is closer to the truth...
who ? oliver wood and charlie weasley
when ? future times! 13 years from now (2015)
where ? oliver’s house
what ? all of the feels.
status ? Closed/complete
Charlie was late. Oliver tried to remind himself that he wasn’t that late. Tried to remind himself that Charlie was not, in fact, just being inconsiderate, but that something had most likely happened to make him late. But the irritation Oliver was feeling low in his stomach wasn’t make Charlie’s tardiness any easier to handle. When the Floo did finally go off and the two kids rushed towards Oliver to hug him, he smiled softly. “You had a nice day?” He asked returning the hugs eagerly. “Yes,” both Sophie and Archie said almost in sync, before Oliver told them to go off and get ready for bed, because it was late. He did assure them that Charlie would go and say goodnight before he left, independently of whether Charlie was planning to stick around or not. He could hardly refuse now.
Once the kids had run off, Oliver stood up, giving Charlie a look. “You’re almost an hour late,” he said sharply. “I thought a dragon had ate one of the children or something,” Oliver informed Charlie only partially lying. Oliver wasn’t particularly keen on the kids being around the dragons, even thought he knew Charlie would never endanger the kids. There was just... something. Something within Oliver that wanted to be mean and bitter and he had no idea where it came from but he didn’t even care.
Whatever it was that had torn them apart, whether it be work or otherwise, because Oliver still wasn’t all that sure, it hadn’t been nice. At first there had just been a distance and then Oliver had filled that distance with other people, and really, that had drawn a disastrous ending to their marriage. And their friendship. And now Oliver was just bitter and it was horrible. That knowledge did nothing to make him nicer, though. “You know they’re meant to be at my parents house early tomorrow, it’ll take me ages to put them to sleep now,” Oliver shook his head. It wasn’t untrue.
--
There had been a new hatching at the Reserve. Archie had made him promise about fifteen times that the next baby dragon - the very next one, Daddy - they would get to see. He’d known it would probably make them late back but he hadn’t wanted to take his children anywhere near the newborn until after it had been fed. He’d never put either of them in danger, but he wasn’t an idiot. Dragons were wild creatures. They could kill, if you weren’t paying attention. Charlie was exhausted now from being on high-alert all afternoon; watching for reaching hands, curious faces getting too close to razor-sharp claws and teeth.
Exhausted, and guilty, and on edge just from being in their - no, Oliver’s - home.
“I’m sorry, alright? There weren’t any spare owls at the reserve so I couldn’t let you know,” he snapped. “They’ve had tea, and brushed their teeth. All you need to do is put them to bed.” He glared at Oliver. “And I’m well f-” he cut himself off before he could swear; Sophie, in particular had bat-like hearing and an uncanny capacity for repeating the worst possible words she could. “I’m well aware they're going to your parents tomorrow.” It was Charlie’s weekend. He should have had them for another day and a half. But Oliver’s parents were having a party - anniversary, or a family birthday, Charlie had been too angry to listen to what it was - and apparently Sophie and Archie absolutely had to attend.
--
“I’m sure you could’ve come up with something,” Oliver said with a roll of his yes. He thought that if Charlie had really cared to let him know, he would’ve done. Oliver was far more inclined to just assume that Charlie had chosen to inconvenience him. Mostly, this was not an assumption based in anything but the fact that it allowed Oliver to feel angrier and more self-righteous about the whole thing. Alternatively, he would have to actually ask himself why he felt such a need to make sure he was constantly annoyed at Charlie, and those were not questions Oliver wanted to answer, not when most of them would just turn around to bite him in the arse.
At Charlie’s words, Oliver gave a long-suffering sigh. “My brother’s getting married, Charlie,” he commented, not even bothering to keep the irritation out of his tone. Oliver had said, repeatedly, that Charlie could have another weekend in exchange for this one. What did it really matter in the bigger picture? “But I suppose you rather the kids miss out on that?” He asked spitefully.
--
If it had been a few years ago Charlie would likely have contacted Oliver through the journals. But if it had been a few years ago...he wouldn’t have needed to. Because Oliver would’ve been there with him. They would’ve been spending the day together as a family. Charlie swallowed around that cold ache in his chest, the sorrow that sat heavy somewhere behind his breastbone.
He’d tossed his journal to the dragons the day he’d moved out the last of his things from their house. He didn’t want, or need, the reminders. His family could reach him by owl, his workmates saw him every day. He didn’t need to keep track of anyone else.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” he snapped, folding his arms. “But I offered to bring them to your parents myself tomorrow morning. So that they could spend the night at the reserve, with-” there was a momentary hesitation- “Princess Luna.” In hindsight, allowing Sophie and Archie to name the new dragon may have been a mistake.
--
Charlie had offered to bring the kids to Oliver’s parents’ house and Oliver had declined. He’d reasoned that it was unnecessary, that they should get a good night’s sleep rather than be excited about dragons and tired for the wedding. But the truth was, if Oliver really admitted it, he just didn’t want Charlie to be near Oliver’s family. Because it hurt. It ached and reminded Oliver of all the things they no longer were. His family, being the reasonable people that they were, still adored Charlie, leaving for Oliver to be angry and bitter and all those things on his own. Which was fair, but also felt rather disappointing (not that Oliver really wanted his family to dislike Charlie, he didn’t deserve that).
“Well, you can have them next weekend,” Oliver said dismissively. “Not that they really should be hanging out with something that breathes fire,” he added with a shake of his head. That was something he had definitely said before. Oliver complained a lot about the fact that Charlie let the kids spend time with his dragons, but he never actually stopped them, mostly because Oliver knew for a fact that if they went down that road, then he would never be allowed to get Archie and Sophie flying.
--
It was an old, weary issue of contention between them. Charlie lived and breathed dragons and always had; it had only become an issue for Oliver once they’d split up. Charlie wondered if Oliver had ever really meant it, when he’d said he loved Charlie’s passion for the creatures. The mistrust he showed now - Charlie didn’t know if it was for him, or the dragons. Either way it hurt.
“Fizz could do more damage than Luna could,” he pointed out. “And you know how much she dotes on them.” If anything, Fizz was more cautious than Charlie, more eager to stay between Sophie and Archie, and any other dragon. She was a fierce little watchdog, and Charlie had no compunction about leaving his kids alone with her, if he ever needed to.
--
“Yes,” Oliver nodded in agreement. He did know that Charlie would never endanger the kids but it was just... easier. It was easier to pick on the things that so obviously were a danger than anything else really. And whilst Oliver did agree, even knew he should probably offer an apology, he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Too proud and too spiteful rolled up in one. The whole thing was... unfortunate. Oliver wasn’t even sure which part in particular, either. He daren’t to think it had been their relationship in the first place, because somewhere, almost distantly, he did remember how much Charlie’s friendship and love had meant to him. That did seem so detached now that Oliver struggled to even really connect to it.
Giving a small sigh, Oliver moved towards the kitchen if for no other reason than the fact that he needed to do something rather than just stand there. “How is... work?” Oliver asked cautiously because even to him it didn’t sound very sincere, but fighting was just so... exhausting. Oliver missed the days when he could ask that and not feel resentment towards Charlie, whether it be work related or anything else. Oliver just missed the time when he wasn’t a bitter, divorced man.
--
Charlie resisted the urge to snort. He wasn’t entirely sure why Oliver was even trying to make conversation - at least when they were arguing, things were simpler. This stilted awkwardness, the pretence of polite strangers...it felt so much worse. So much more final.
“Fine,” he muttered. He had one ear out for the kids; they were in the bathroom, water running, so brushing teeth. Which could take half an hour, depending on how naughty they were feeling.
“You? How’s training?” He’d stopped following Quidditch. He couldn’t - even if it wasn’t Oliver’s team, the name ‘Wood’ was never far from people’s lips. Avoiding Oliver’s family had become as exhausting as avoiding Oliver. Standing at the kitchen doorway, he dug his nail into the soft wood, staring at his hand rather than risk catching Oliver’s eye.
--
“Fine,” Oliver replied before he realised that that was exactly the same answer Charlie had given. This was going well, clearly. But Oliver also didn’t know what else to say. He kind of wished he could challenge it, or at least comment on it, this stupid situation. The way they now sounded like strangers, strangers who were quite angry at each other quite a lot of the time. And yet, Oliver was aware that he was just as much at fault about that as Charlie was. Oliver refused to take the breakdown of their marriage on himself, no matter how much or little he might have contributed to it, but he did accept at least some responsibility.
After a moment of standing in awkward silence, in a way which highlighted how much their relationship had changed since the times they had been able to stand in comfortable silence, Oliver shrugged. “Just go say bye to the kids and go?” He said finally because, really, what was the fucking point of just standing around and not saying anything worthwhile to each other? They had spent plenty of time doing that already.
--
“Yeah.” Charlie nodded sharply, pushing back off the doorframe with one hand. He took the stairs two at a time, pasting on a bright smile as he reached the top of the stairs and was greeted by two blurs of hair and minty smells and soft pjs.
“Heyyyy, ooooff!” He hefted them up, one in each arm, and carried them through to their bedroom. “Right, bedtime now. Princess Luna’s asleep, and so should you be.” He set down Archie, then Sophie, tucking them carefully into bed. He lingered over each moment; smoothing hair, straightening pillows. He couldn’t take too much longer though. Sighing, he knelt down by Sophie’s bed.
“Ninight, snooks,” he murmured, kissing her forehead gently. He started to pull back but there were little arms winding around his neck, trying to hold him close and keep him there. “I know, I know-” it broke his heart to watch her face begin to crumple as she tried to hold back tears. “I can’t stay, sweetheart.” There was a rustle of bedclothes, mattress dipping as Archie clambered onto his sister’s bed, another set of arms sliding around Charlie’s neck. He held one of them in each arm, his face tucked into the space between their shoulders.
--
Oliver had followed Charlie, far enough not to make it seem like he was supervising or anything. He let Charlie take the kids to their room, stood outside, back pressed against the wall as he listened to Charlie talk to them, tell Sophie he couldn’t stay. It broke Oliver’s heart. Not the fact that Charlie couldn’t stay, because they had long passed the point of where that was going to change, but the way Oliver wished he could tell Charlie off. The low and nasty feeling of pettiness was unpleasant as Oliver thought that it would be easier if Charlie wasn’t so good with the kids. But he was. He was great and they loved him unconditionally. The sort of love Oliver had thought he could give him.
When Charlie did finally emerge from the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him, Oliver gave him a look that was mostly just sad. Again, he wanted to apologise. Maybe it would’ve been more appropriate now, but Oliver still didn’t. “I’ll bring them around on Monday,” he said instead because at least that was something. Better than nothing at all, surely?
--
Charlie sniffed sharply, shoving his hands into his pocket and looking away as Oliver met his eyes. He couldn’t do - this. Whatever this fucking relationship was now, the scattered ashes of what they’d been...he couldn’t pretend like it was okay. Some days he could barely stand to be civil to Oliver. Some days he just wanted to cry.
He nodded, staring intently at the carpet. “Give your brother my best,” he muttered thickly. He edged past Oliver like he was an unexploded bomb, trudging down the stairs with the air of a condemned man.
--