Charles Weasley is a man with very specific taste.
Charles Weasley was a man with very specific taste.
He liked his steak rare, but not raw. He liked his dragons docile, but not tame. He liked his coffee black, but not overly bitter. He liked his bedroom cold, but with a thick blanket on his bed to keep him warm.
And he liked his women with a bit of a fire lit under them and a mouth to prove it, but still submissive in the bedroom.
Charlie would be the first to admit he never saw himself settling down. When he first went to Romania, he believed it might be possible. He got so engrossed in his work with the sanctuary that he never actually looked for the perfect woman. His sexual focus turned towards drunken hookups and one night flings with women he met at the local pubs. He rarely learned their names, and he definitely didn’t learn any details about them. These women weren’t interesting, but they were definitely easy. At least he was getting his dick wet… right? Besides, who didn’t like the attractive dragon tamer with the bright smile and a strong jaw? That’s right, every woman he had come across.
Every. Single. One.
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The war changed him. He was the first to admit it. The war was what did him in, truly. The death of his brother, the physical and psychological injuries sustained to other members of his family, the sight of his good friend from school lying dead in the Great Hall next to her husband, the fact that he had almost never made it in time to fight. The war had changed everything about Charlie Weasley.
Grief is a funny thing. Everyone grieves a bit differently. Molly and Arthur grieved rather traditionally. Tears were shed, long sleepless nights were had. Bill threw himself into his marriage with a stark focus on starting a family with Fleur. George threw himself into the shop in Diagon Alley with Ang, doubling down on his inventions and rarely showing up to family events. Percy found his release in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey, and a quick engagement to a woman who seemed slightly too perfect for him. Ron focused on Hermione and Harry, but had stopped sleeping through the night. And Ginny? Well, after her final year she obsessed over Quidditch and bedding 'The Boy Who Lived' in hopes of tying him down permanently.
But Charlie? Charlie grieved by disappearing. The day after Fred's funeral, he was off to Romania once more with hardly any intent of coming back unless specifically requested. He threw himself into his work and the dumb broads that seemed to not even remember his name. It wasn't enough, of course. It would never be enough. Every day was the same. Coffee in the morning, drinks at the The Dragon's Lair after work, whiskey until he blacked out, and then falling into some girl's bed for the night... or couch, or the floor, or sometimes even just pulling her into the bathroom at the pub if he was lazy enough. It wasn't enough, though.
After all, Charles Weasley was a man with very specific taste.