there's only one bed???
The bedding had been laid on the floor for Charlie, very loudly, though some abysmal attempts had been made by Molly and more notably Charlie to keep quiet – and the room had settled down again, a hush falling over the Burrow, sleep settling on the building like a spell.
“Goodnight,” Charlie’s voice was deep, tired –
So…he knew Neville was awake.
Who wouldn’t be, through all that noise?
“Goodnight,” Neville whispered back, surprised his voice held out for so long.
Neville definitely would not be getting any sleep tonight.
-
Neville must have nodded off at some point. When he woke up the sky was blue, just a minute past dawn, and his roommate was on the floor, sleeping soundly.
Neville stepped over Charlie’s sleeping form and readied himself for the day. It was early enough for hardly anyone else to be awake, which was only a good thing considering the morning bathroom rush with the number of people currently staying in the Burrow. Brushing his teeth, running water over his face and dampening the back of his neck…Neville stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the dark rings around his eyes.
Yeah. He looked like shit.
Steeling himself for talking to Charlie again but not quite ready yet – residual feelings of shame and embarrassment he thought he’d gotten over a long time ago – Neville changed his clothes quickly, his brain flickering back to –
Years of talking to the man about dragons and plants and –
He was a stupid, dumb kid but –
Neville wasn’t ready for this.
-
He spent the next hour getting breakfast ready with Molly, who was bubbling with excitement, multiple kitchen appliances running as she prepped a large and elaborate breakfast to welcome Charlie home. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, muffins – you name it, Molly was making it.
Neville could do this.
The first people to come down were Ginny and Hermione, who were directed to the table with a stern “Don’t start eating until your brother comes down!” from Molly, holding a spatula in one hand with her hip on the other.
Harry and Ron both greeted Neville good morning with tired nods, following the same instructions – though Ron got scolded for trying to sneak some food off one of the many breakfast platters.
In this commotion Neville doubted he’d be able to go and visit his grandmother and parents today, which just made everything far more daunting.
Once the four had taken their seats Neville positioned himself between them so he couldn’t sit beside anyone else. The twins bolstered down the stairs next, dragging their oldest brother with them, heckling and throwing jabs at him in their excitement.
Charlie – shaking his head as he laughed, red bangs filtering over his brow, large frame and muscled body (even larger than he had been a few years ago), tanned from all his work outdoors – being dragged down by his collar so Molly could plant an audible kiss against his cheek, her smile taut with joy as she wrapped Charlie in a deep hug.
Neville bit back a feeling of –
Envy, he supposed, looking down at his hands.
Nausea, most notably, wondering if the Weasley twins would say anything to him about this too –
Ginny and Ron both stood to greet their brother – Hermione and Harry were both met with firm claps on their shoulders, the type that made their entire body fall into them and suddenly Charlie’s gaze (all of his attention) was on Neville –
“Good to see you, Nev.”
The same nickname he’d called him years before – accompanied by a similar clap on his shoulder –
“Hi,” Neville stared into a pair of shining blue eyes (the eyes of his first crush, dammit), sure he was blushing.
Charlie’s lips quirked into something between a smirk and a smile but thankfully – thankfully – his attention didn’t last longer than that as he turned to take his own seat at the table.
-
Breakfast was easier than Neville had thought it could be. With all the attention around Charlie barely any attention was drawn to Neville, who was left to silently push his food around his plate until his peers decided their plans for the day.
“Quidditch,” Ron said through a mouth of egg.
“Gross, Ronald!” Hermione complained, throwing a napkin at his face. “I’m tired of Quidditch.”
“But with Charlie we’ll finally have two equal teams!” Ron appealed, still talking through a mouth of egg.
Neville’s eyes flickered to the aforementioned Weasley sibling, who was sitting between his parents and stuck in a conversation with Molly.
“Bold of you to assume that our mother will let him out of her sight today,” George buttered a slice of toast slowly, grinning.
Neville couldn’t help the feeling that coiled in his stomach every time one of the Weasley twins spoke.
Arthur butted in to the conversation, “We do have a gnome problem –“
“Dad, we always have a gnome problem,” Fred said empathically, “Maybe we should get rid of the gnomes.”
“Absolutely not! They’re a part of our family,” Molly said loudly, gaze sharp as she addressed Fred – this was a repeated argument among them, Neville gathered from her expression, and one quite important to her if it dragged her out of her conversation with Charlie – “And if we always have a gnome problem maybe you should be fixing it more often than just playing with who knows what in your room with your brother –“
Fred’s tone dropped as he addressed Harry’s side of the table, “Is she suggesting I play with my penis when George is in the room? Because that’s just –“
“YES MOTHER,” George said loudly, nodding with exaggerated empathy to drown out Fred’s words, “We will be taking counsel with our gnome siblings on this fine morning, don’t you worry –“
Ron groaned, grabbing a muffin and shovelling it down.
-
Unlike the Weasley siblings, who showed clear disdain for the gnome chore, it was a task that Neville preferred. He didn’t have to talk to other people, and if he took the opportunity to fuck around and walk off for a while? Not like anyone knew.
And even though the gnomes were bitey little things throwing them around released some of Neville’s pent up energy that had previously been earmarked for stress, which was nice.
-
Dinner was even more elaborate than breakfast, and loud, and fun in both of those regards. Neville let himself get swept away in it for a moment.
He volunteered to continue clean-up long after his peers retired to their rooms, the repeated motions of washing dishes and wiping surfaces settling his brain into a gentle hum. He could hear Molly, Arthur and Charlie in the living room, sharing drinks by the fire, laughter a nice backing track to his cleaning. But the longer he was left alone to his own devices the more anxiety swelled in his stomach, because – he was staying in Charlie’s room. And they would have to talk, at some point – and there was only so much that Neville could avoid him.
And Neville had gotten the impression that he’d been sleeping in a room that wasn’t Ron’s because he was gay, but wouldn’t staying with Charlie defeat the purpose of that, the quasi-protection that had been extended to the other residents of the Burrow?
Particularly since Charlie knew – Charlie knew which Weasley sibling Neville had once had a crush on.
It wasn’t Percy.
-
“Neville, sweetie – I told you, there’s no need to do that,” Molly’s cheeks were flushed from alcohol, lips upturned and eyes a little unfocussed, “Go to bed! Get some sleep ---”
She had come into the kitchen hardly a moment before, one of her hands on the worktop to steady herself, presumably to drop off her now-empty wine glass.
Arthur was soon to follow. He took Molly by the shoulder when she stumbled. “All right, dear, lets get you upstairs – and Neville, she’s right, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with that.” He was notably more sober and steered Molly out of the kitchen when she lent all her weight on him.
Neville’s body tensed. If Molly and Arthur were making their way upstairs that meant there was nothing to occupy Charlie –
The footfall was heavy behind him. Neville could tell who it was, even before they opened their mouth.
“Hey, kid.”
In the room only occupied with the two of them – nightfall – the relative silence of the rest of the house – Charlie’s voice was smooth and rumbling and in Neville closed his eyes he could almost imagine –
“Hey,” Neville croaked, refusing to turn around, pretending to fold a tea towel.
A clicking sound – as if Charlie was tapping the glass of his drink with a nail.
They stayed like that for a moment.
“I think we’ve gotta talk,” Charlie finally broached.
“Okay.”
“Looking at me might make it a little easier?”
Neville took a deep breath and held it, eyes falling shut. He could do this. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like the last time he spoke to Charlie he didn’t – kiss him – without permission – and – disgust and embarrassment and shame hit in in the gut – how the hell did he – a friendship built off pity and a mutual, pathetic enjoyment of dragons and plants, one which he didn’t even –
The way Charlie was posing it - as if Neville could say no, and he’d back off – took the heat off a little. He could skip this entire part of the evening and never talk to Charlie again, and Charlie wouldn’t pressure him into that. But that would make things awkward, and this conversation and inevitable and frankly years in the making –
Neville’s nails bit into his hands and he turned around slowly, letting his eyes open.
Charlie’s lips pulled up in a lopsided smile. “Been a while, huh?”
Taking a deep breath, chest rattling, Neville clung to the worktop behind him. “You could say that.”
For the first time in years, without the fanfare of other family members or distractions around him, Neville got a good look at the other man. Shoulder-length red hair, tan skin and an abundance of freckles making his eyes bluer, added height to his frame, thick corded muscle in his forearms and the breadth of his shoulders…small scars etched into his visible skin, probably casualties from his dragon keeping job.
In one hand Charlie held an emptying tumbler of dark liquor, in the other an embellished glass bottle.
Noticing Neville’s attention, Charlie lifted the bottle. “You want to try some? It’s a Romanian firewhiskey.”
Neville shook his head automatically, skin flushing.
“You sure?” Charlie’s smile widened, friendly and open, “I won’t tell. God knows what I was drinking at your age.”
Licking his lips slowly, Neville let his control unwind a little. A taste wouldn’t hurt, right? And it was hardly like he’d never drank firewhiskey before.
“Okay.”
Charlie moved further into the kitchen (closer to where Neville was huddled), bypassing him for the liquor cabinet. He pulled out a glass and trickled some in, topping himself off too.
“Easy,” Charlie handed Neville the glass. He kept his grip on the glass, fingers slotted together over the surface, until Neville looked him in the eye, “It’s strong.”
When Neville didn’t reply, Charlie relented his grip, leaning against the worktop with his own glass in-hand.
The drink was bitter, sharp, and Neville winced as he took a sip. It caught the back of his throat unpleasantly and he swallowed quickly to avoid coughing embarrassingly.
If Charlie noticed (he definitely did) he feigned ignorance, seemingly savouring the flavour.
“I wanted to apologise,” Charlie began after a long beat. “What happened – back then. I know that kind of shit stays with you.”
Neville took another sip, eyes dipping to the floor.
“I really…regretted what I said to you. For a long time. But I wasn’t sure if hearing from me again – even for an apology – would be worse. I don’t know.” Charlie sighed. “I was a fucking idiot.”
Heat ran from Neville’s throat to his stomach, ignited by firewhiskey. “You weren’t.”
Their eyes met. “Neville –“
“I’m sorry too.” Neville swirled the drink in his glass absent-mindedly. “I was –“ he laughed tonelessly “- I was really stupid. Really, really stupid.” His eyes heated and he looked away. “Let’s just forget about it.”
“You weren’t stupid.”
“I was pretty stupid.” Hell, he’d almost left Hogwarts that year, dropped out just because of some gossip. How pathetic. He rubbed the side of his neck awkwardly. “Just a stupid kid.”
“Kids are supposed to be stupid, Neville. And humans are supposed to make mistakes.”
That was…true. Neville finished his whiskey, dropping the empty tumbler on the worktop. He just felt so fucking dumb all of the time, his mistakes strong enough to tear down the world he’d spent so long building and protecting around him, as if any move in the wrong direction would send everything shattering around him and he’d be alone.
But Charlie…had never judged him. Had stared at each and every one of Neville’s weaknesses without prising and pulling them out to the forefront. He’d seen past all of that, as if there was anything else to Neville but fear and uselessness.
“Come here.”
Neville stepped into Charlie’s open arms. He pressed his head into his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his neck and hiding his face. Charlie’s arms settled against his lower back, grip tight, as if squeezing all of Neville’s loose parts back in place.
Yeah. He could do this.