Charlie (publicenemyno1) wrote in whatprice, @ 2009-09-19 00:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | !completed, charlie weasley, marcus belby |
Girl Trouble
Who: Charlie Weasley and Marcus Belby
What: The lads talk about girls and leather
When: Friday evening, 19 September
Where: Marcus's place, aka New Ravenclaw Tower
Warnings: NSFW language (Charlie's potty mouth, as always)
Status: Closed, complete.
Nestled in a comfortable wing backed chair, surrounded by walls of leather bound books, Marcus warmed the bowl of a crystal snifter between his hands, smiling at Charlie and his four-footed shadow. Other than short discussions about the current state of muggle technology, they had had only cursory contact through their work with the Wizengamot for several weeks now. Sitting across from his friend, Marcus kept a poker face as they chatted about nothing in particular.
Nothing in particular was about all Charlie was up to talking about right now. He'd spent the better part of his week sorting out the security implications of Penny lying to him about Shashi--what that meant in terms of risks to the government, to the Order, to his brother--and for all that he took a less dim view of it than, say, George, Charlie was still grateful for the fact that the work was keeping him from having to think about the personal side of the matter. It was so much easier to talk about the Wizengamot and the minimal progress they'd made on researching anti-Apparation and who would be living in Marcus' estate than it was to think about whatever it was Penny had been thinking. He mimicked Marcus's behaviour with the snifter, figuring that Marcus would know when it was ripe to be drunk: slowly, because the hangover on Wednesday had told Charlie in no uncertain terms he wasn't as young as he used to be.
It was obvious to Marcus that there was something eating at Charlie, if he wasn't able to read it in Charlie's behaviour, he would certainly have noticed Mircea's mopey attitude as he lay quietly next to his master's feet. Marcus wasn't about to push; he knew better than that with this Weasley in particular.
"Any luck in acquiring more of those muggle devices?," he asked, taking a slow sip of brandy and savouring it. "I should ask Cho if she's dug up any more details on the network." Cho had recently moved into the wing Michael had vacated, but, not all that surprisingly, they hadn't seen much of each other since she had arrived.
Charlie shook his head. "We've had a couple of things come up. My senior people have all been busy. Some of it will, I reckon, come up in session." He didn't want to think about that. "Some of it's probably too confidential for anyone not on the committee. Some of it may be too confidential for the committee." He set the brandy aside and reached down to tangle his fingers in Mircea's fur. "I need to shake some people loose and get them on it. There's too much work for the men I've got, and this has been a shit week." The truth was the AADs had slipped down his priority list between Harry and the security breach.
George was right. He didn't have time for this. Charlie stroked Mircea, letting the gesture calm him a little.
Marcus shrugged. "I wasn't going to say anything, but...yeah, it looks like you've had a rough time of it." He watched the pair of them, both clearly finding comfort in the contact. "Anything in particular? Anything not too confidential, that is?"
"It's all confidential." Charlie shrugged. "Even the girl trouble."
"Your --" Marcus hesitated, shaking his head in confusion. He hadn't even known that Charlie was dating anyone here in Britain. "You have a girl?" And she's somehow top secret?
"Well, it's not--it wasn't, I mean, I don't think it's anything right now--" Charlie threw up his hands. "I don't know. This is a worse mess than Alina."
"It's that serious, is it?" Marcus placed his brandy carefully on the side table, and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Is it repairable?"
"I don't know. And it's not--I mean, it's been a few months, but not--it's different. But it's a worse mess because no matter how many time Alina and I fought, we could still wrangle dragons at the end of it. This--I don't know. I just don't know." Charlie threw up his hands again.
Marcus had expected that Charlie would eventually marry Alina, no matter how long it took, so this was an unexpected turn. He bit back the obvious question, and instead asked, "It it serious enough to warrant fighting this time? I mean, are you considering a long-term relationship?" The thought reminded him of Damocles' latest owl, and he almost reached for the brandy again.
"I wasn't trying to think about it one way or another. I was just letting it happen. And now--I told her we were taking a break, but I don't know if there's anything to go back to." Charlie blinked a couple of times, all owlish, and picked up his brandy again. "She made a fool out of me in front of one of my men. It was George, so he already knows I'm an idiot, but after that I'm not sure it matters what I feel like. I have to command respect. I'm not sure I can do that if I take her back."
"You have the respect of anyone who has ever worked with you," Marcus frowned. "Your love life has no bearing on that. Not with anyone who matters, any road." He blew out a long breath, not used to having to choose his words so carefully around Charlie, but not wanting to add to the man's stress. "The question remains, though, as to whether she's worth the agony. Do you really want to resume the relationship?" To Marcus' way of thinking 'just letting it happen' didn't sound like something that was worth the trouble. There had to be something deeper there.
Charlie sighed. "You sound like Bill." Whether his brandy was warm enough or not, he had a sip.
"That may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Marcus smiled, reaching for his own glass. "Aside from that evening we spent discovering the many blessings of firewhiskey."
At that, Charlie had to grin. "George taught me a new trick with it. Do you know a Muggle potion called hair spray?"
"They have spray-on hair?" Marcus' eyebrows were raised high enough to be lost in his fringe.
"No, it's something they use like girls use cosmetic charms. Anyhow, they have this way of spraying it." Charlie put down the glass and gestured with his hands to mimic the spraying action. "On the hair, I guess. But it catches really nicely." He waggled his eyebrows and grinned again, looking more like his normal self than he had since he'd come in.
"Catches fire?" A wicked smile began to spread across Marcus' face. "That sounds more like a Ginny-style trick than George." Although, come to think of it, some of those Wheezes were pretty explosive.
"Yeah, it was fantastic. Fortunately the best of it was over water, or we'd've caught some trees for sure." It was the sort of glorious drunken exploit they'd've gotten up to in Romania, the sort that a dignified member of the Wizengamot and Public Safety official was supposed to be too old for. Apparently not. "The thing is, you have to drink a lot of firewhiskey to make it work right, so make your hangover potion first."
"Yowch!" It had been a very long time since Marcus' last binge, he was hard pressed to remember what it was like to be that far over the eight. No wonder Charlie was looking a bit pale. "I assume getting pissed with George was in response to your taking a break with this woman?"
A bit of his animation fading, Charlie gave a reluctant nod. "Over the whole thing. The break, and the reason why."
"Did you find enlightenment in the experience?" Marcus smiled gently.
"Merlin, no." Charlie shook his hand and gave a dismissive wave. "You don't drink to talk about it. You drink to forget it."
"It doesn't seem to have taken, mate."
"I'm not getting that drunk again. Once in a week is enough." After that hangover, once in a year was enough. Charlie found himself shrugging. "I'm not sure talking about it's going to help, though. But--you know about Public Safety." And about the Order, even if not about all the Order business. "Maybe you can tell me if I'm crazy for thinking this is a huge security breach, and maybe not fixable." It was clear that someone--George or otherwise--had suggested it wasn't repairable.
"Sounds serious," Marcus' brow furrowed once more. "She committed a security breach of some sort?"
Charlie nodded. "Well, breach isn't exactly the right word." He started to tell the story, gesturing intermittently as he talked. "She has a job in the Muggle world, and she met this bloke who works for MI7--one of the ones in the photos?--and he asked her out. And she said she'd go to lunch with him, but she told me and I thought she meant to have someone keep an eye on her, just in case. So I sent George, because he knows the agent on sight. But she and I had this argument sort of a thing, in the journals, where she asked what I was going to do, and I wouldn't tell her because you can't talk about that kind of thing. I didn't mean to do anything other than have her watched for her own safety, because it could break her Muggle identity if I did. But she--I don't know what she thought I was going to do to him--but she changed the meeting somehow. So George went out there and watched her, and then called me because he didn't show up, because he thought it might mean she was about to be snatched. And it was for nothing." He shook his head and reached down for the comforting presence of his dog again.
Marcus listened attentively, following Charlie's narrative with intermittent nods, but keeping his responses neutral. By the end of the story, he was concerned, and even more curious as to the identity of this woman. Charlie's Ministry position was no secret. How could anyone with half a brain present him with a situation like that and not expect him to take action?
"So she pulled the rug out from under you, and you called her on it. How did she respond?"
There was a long silence as Charlie pulled out the details of the conversation, with a pause between each point. "That she wanted to know if I was going to use her in a military operation. That she didn't like it that I was using her for information. That she'd told me about the meet not in my role for Public Safety, but as her boyfriend. That she didn't mind me being involved, but she didn't want Public Safety involved." He remembered to add, "She did apologise, and I accepted it. And she told me she trusted me." He let that hang, because he didn't know what to say afterwards.
"I find it difficult to believe that someone would expect the Minister of Public Safety to hear that any of us, let alone his current significant other, were about to meet with one of those MI7 thugs and not take action. What did she expect you to do with that kind of information?" Marcus raised his hand, sighing, "No, don't answer that. I don't expect it will help any." He shook his head, "So she apologised. It's up to you whether or not you want to accept that. And it's up to you whether you trust her." He allowed a raised eyebrow to turn that into a question.
Charlie missed the raised eyebrow by being busy examining his fingernails. "I'm slow to think about those things, or maybe to not-think about them." Slowly, he looked up at Marcus. "But I did wonder whether there was something I was missing, because I don't think like a Ravenclaw."
"You don't think like an illogical woman, you mean." Marcus deadpanned. "It doesn't take a Ravenclaw to know we're at high alert, for Merlin's sake." He paused, narrowing his eyes at Charlie. "She's not...wait, she's a Ravenclaw?"
From the expression on Charlie's face, he hadn't realised Marcus didn't know who they were talking about. "Yeah. Penny Clearwater. And now you can tell me what an eejit I am for dating my brother's ex-girlfriend."
Marcus swallowed his initial response, covering his astonishment by taking a long sip of brandy. When he had sufficiently recovered, he blew out a noisy breath. "Merlin's pants, Charlie, you certainly know how to make life complicated!" He hadn't spent much time with Penelope in school; she was a few years his senior, and tended to run with a different crowd, but he never thought of her as particularly daft. She was a Prefect, after all. "How is Percy taking it?"
"How does Perce take anything? Wait, I didn't tell you the part where she's still in love with him but can't be with him because he's how he is, right?" Charlie paused at the end of that question, his mouth not quite closed, and cringed, perhaps at how awkward that sounded.
"Holy hells, she's still in love with Percy?" His inflection made it clear that there was very little reason for any girl have been in love with Percy as a teen, much less continuing that emotion well into adulthood. "Did she tell you this during the breakup, or before?" Marcus was silently thanking whatever spirits were watching over his own uncomplicated romantic life, and hoping it remained that way for as long as possible.
"No, she told me this a while ago, while explaining some things about her Muggle identity." The part about also being in love with Gus, and that not mattering because Gus didn't like girls, was an additional detail Marcus didn't need to hear. Charlie was sure he was flushed and not just from heat and drink. "She was trying to make it clear how she was over him, I guess."
You're well rid of her, was the phrase that came immediately to mind, but it didn't look like Charlie was ready to hear it. Instead, he settled on, "I'm sorry, Charlie."
"I mean, I know I don't think about things like you do, and I know it's different because we're both blokes, but--I dunno, I reckon I was hoping another Ravenclaw could tell me what I wasn't seeing about how she was thinking. I mean, if I was just being stupid and missing something obvious." Charlie slumped down in the chair and nudged Mircea with his foot. The dog rose, stretched, and came around the front of the chair to drop his head in his master's lap.
Marcus replaced his glass on the table, and leaned back into his chair, his hands folded. He mentally ran through Charlie's description of the situation, as well as Penelope's responses, trying to see what might have motivated her to put Charlie into such a state, possibly compromising her own security in the bargain.
"I don't see where you did anything particularly stupid, mate." He hated when intelligent people impugned their own mental capacity, but that was an old argument, and not one he was likely to win any time soon. "It sounds to me as though she wasn't thinking clearly about the inevitable results of her actions and, when she was confronted with that reality, she reacted emotionally rather than logically. If she was telling you about the meeting with the expectations that you wouldn't act in your capacity of MOPS, she should certainly have made that clear at the time, don't you think?" Without waiting for a reply, Marcus continued, leaning forward once again, "And, if she trusted you so bloody much, why did she change the meeting time?"
"That's what I don't know." Charlie ran his fingers through his hair. It was overlong and could stand to be cut, or so Molly would have said, and stood straight in the wake of his fingers. "I just keep wondering what she thought I was going to do to him, and why she thought it was worse than what he might do to her. But if you say I was only mostly a fool, for thinking someone who could fall in love with Percy could work it out with me, I'll take it."
"Maybe only a little bit of a fool," Marcus said with a shrug. "But I suppose it's best to discover these things early on in a relationship, before you've become significantly invested." His tone said he hoped that was the case for Charlie.
"It's not Alina." That seemed to be all he could come up with on that subject. "But tell me what's going on with you, because I'm tired of moping about it. If I want to have a life outside my work, it ought not just to be whinging about my woman trouble."
"Would it make you feel any better if I told you that I was having woman trouble, myself?" There was a mischievous glint in Marcus' eye.
"No, really?" Charlie sat up, unceremoniously dumping Mircea's head out of his lap. Mircea whoofed in protest, and Charlie reached down to pet him. "Tell me about it and I'll tell you how you're smarter than me one more time."
"To be honest, I may be asking you for advice pretty soon," Marcus chuckled. "Damocles has been sending owls in preparation for his return to the country. Each one has ended with a comment about how great it would be if I were to get married. And the comments have been getting more and more...demanding with each message."
Charlie scowled and waved his free hand at Marcus. "Tell him to bugger off. I mean, I know he's your uncle, but it's not like he's my mum or anything."
"I've been trying to ignore the post scripts, but he's actually trying to sound like my mum. I don't know what has crawled under his robe, but he's starting to talk to me about having children." Marcus made a face. "As if there were time for any of that now."
"Yeah, but on the other hand, when is there going to ever be a good time? I mean, if you've got a girl--which you don't, do you?" Charlie stopped to give Marcus the hairy eye, as if Damocles' postscripts somehow meant he was as ignorant of Marcus's love life in Britain as Marcus apparently was of his.
"No, nothing in that area for a while now." Marcus didn't seem embarrassed about it; it was just a statement of fact. "But Damocles has been, well, I think he's starting to make lists. He's been asking me about eligible pureblood witches." He looked thoughtful, "I only hope he's kept these questions between the two of us." If Damocles had been asking anyone else it would likely be much harder for Marcus to ignore in the long run.
Charlie grinned and reached out to thwap Marcus on the leg, something of his usual good nature restored now that they weren't discussing his rather daft situation with Penny any longer. "He hasn't owled me, if that's what you mean. But look at it this way; if he does, I won't be asking Alina if her mum knows anybody."
"You're such a comfort to me, Charlie," Marcus grinned. "And if it worse comes to worst, I'm close to having the flak jacket perfected, so I'll have some amount of protection when he finally shows up on the doorstep."
"We'll hope my parcel from Romania beats him so you can have my old one." Charlie gestured back toward the door, where he'd left his dragonhide jacket with Peony. "Maybe I should have ordered one for you. Or you should work with George."
"I didn't know George was working on protective magics," Marcus said, clearly interested. "Accio Charlie's jacket." His wand flicked and the jacket landed on his lap. Turning it over, he found some areas of damage, but the dragon hide was clearly a superior material than what he was using. "There's plenty of room to add the crystals in the lining here," he murmured, almost to himself. Looking back at Charlie, he asked, "Does it take enchantments easily, or does the dragonhide reject additional magics?"
"I didn't do the enchantments. You'd need to ask George. They used to do this sort of thing all the time, George and Fred. They sold shield hats in Wheezes during the last war. He and Ron did some of the same, but George sort of retired after Ron." The sentence stopped a bit abruptly, but the missing verb was implicit. "Some of the spellwork is laid in by the tanner in Romania, but that may only be the underlying works that George laid spells on top of."
"I'll have to talk to George." Marcus continued to study the jacket, turning it over in his hands. "Could I borrow this when your new one arrives? How long does it take to prepare one of these?"
"A while. Ask George, really. You should write all your questions down and I'll pass them on, and have him get in touch with you. He doesn't read his journal, except if I remind him to, but you can also ask him that way." Charlie made something of an exasperated eyeroll tinged with fraternal fondness.
"Oh, I will, I will," Marcus agreed, still looking at the jacket. "And you've taken bullets in this?" he continued, looking back at Charlie. "That's the focus of what I'm trying to protect against, of course."
"Yeah." He took the jacket from Marcus and spread it out. "Here's where I took a reasonably close-range spray from some long fast-shooting gun. Semi-auto, I think they called it, although I don't know why it has the same name as a car. I was on a broom and he was in a helicopter. Broke the motherfucker's arms afterwards." Charlie's irrepressible grin was back, and he looked much like one of the twins announcing they'd counted coup on some Slytherin.
"Good for you. This'll only protect you if they hit the jacket, though, right? Or has George done anything to direct the curse, I mean bullets, toward the hide?"
Marcus on a tear was worse than--well, Charlie hadn't had any Ravenclaws in his house when he was ickle. "Ask George what he did. Really, Marcus, I mean it. I'm sure he told me something about it, but that was years ago and you know me. I'm not Bill; all that goes in one ear and right out the other."
"Right, sorry." This time Marcus did have the sense to look embarrassed. "I'm glad you had some sort of protection, though. Those muggle weapons are serious business."
"Having taken a bullet or two through bits of me that weren't protected by the jacket," Charlie said, "I reckon I agree with that."