November 27, 1998
Who: Marissa Macfusty and Charlie Weasley
What: >>;
Where: The Leaky, then Marissa's hermit-shack

Marissa wasn’t at all sure exactly when this whole thing had started. Arthur had started coming to visit the reserve now and again, bringing the boys. Charlie had really been the only one to be interested - she’d given him his first book on dragons, in fact - and eventually he’d started to come over on his own.

It was when Charlie had graduated that things had started to get terribly inappropriate. She had tried to resist, honestly -- but he was just the sort that she had the habit of falling for...he just so happened to also be twelve years her junior. Sometimes she could resist, but most of the time … well. Most of the time it was like tonight, when she felt like he was the only sort of person who she could stand to be around for more than a few minutes.

She nursed the beer she’d grabbed while she was waiting for Charlie to come in, cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. It was always chilly in the Cauldron. Maybe that was the reason that they never seemed to stay here long.

Charlie found Marissa as soon as he entered the Leaky with his cloak drawn loose around his broad shoulders. His clothes were drab and singed, his usual look. She, however, was difficult to miss. Marissa likely blended well with the other patrons, but Charlie still had some of that boy in him that saw the sun radiating out of her every pore. He knew it was ridiculous, but it wasn't something that could be helped.

"Started without me, have you?" he asked as he took a seat at her side before waving down the barkeep to order an ale for himself.

She knew it was ridiculous not to go away from the reserve when she could help it, but now -- especially now -- she felt she should be cautious. She’d always driven Jinty mad with her desire to protect the girl after her kidnapping, and it had eventually culminated to her moving in with one of her school friends over the summers. Now she lived far from the island, although she sent her sister letters often. It would be just like the last time the Dark Lord fell, she was sure of it -- a few months later when everyones’ guards were down, they’d hit some poor and unfortunate family like the Longbottoms.

Hell if she was going to stand by and let it happen to her family. It was true, though, what some of her friends (whatever she had left of them) insisted: she had to start living again eventually. Maybe she ought to start seeing Charlie more often -- or better yet, find a beau of an appropriate age.

Marissa couldn’t help the smile as Charlie sat down next to her, though. There were few highlights in her life left aside from the dragons and some time in the past eight years, he’d become one of them (despite her attempts to make sure that very thing didn’t happen).

“You know me,” she said with a shake of her head, a few stray bits of hair falling easily into her eyes, “ever the lush. I just couldn’t resist.” More accurately, she couldn’t tolerate the other patrons without a drink in hand.

It had been all of seven short months since the second war had ended. Charlie had time to adjust, but his brother's death had hit him hard. He had difficulty celebrating the defeat of the Dark Lord when he'd seen atrocities and so he'd taken to retiring to be with his dragons. He supposed it had strengthened his relationship with Marissa. She still pushed against him, but not as strongly since the second fall of the Dark Lord. As always, he tried not to let himself get too attached, but being with her, it made him happy.

Charlie grinned small at Marissa, pressing dimples into his soft cheeks. He enjoyed that she could make him smile. Seeing her was always refreshing. "If ever there was a woman to drink me under the table," he said with slight tilt of his head. He watched the hair fall and slowly reached up to brush it behind her ear with his calloused fingers, making the action as quick as possible before picking up his drink for a swig.

"How have you been?"

She hated that her cheeks flushed up instantly - she covered it as well as she could manage with a long swig of the beer she was drinking, but they both knew her sudden redness wasn’t from the liquor.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice at it.” Especially when she’d been younger, and especially when she’d been seeing Otto. There had been a handful of times where she’d gotten plastered with others - James, and Elizabeth Bell (when she’d been … recovering from her phase).

“I’ve … been. There’s a new clutch of eggs on one of the cliffs,” because Charlie was one of the few people who would actually understand the importance of this, “So I’ve been busy. You know how it is.” Seeing people so celebratory over the supposed final death of the Dark Lord just made her self-imposed hermiting seem … a little silly.

“And you? Aside from your problems with all the middleman bullshit.”

Marissa blushing amused Charlie. His smile broadened and his dimples deepened as his eyes crinkled at the edges with laugh lines. The color looked good on her was his reasoning why it amused him so, but he knew it was more due to his inner-boy's glee at making a girl blush. Granted, Marissa was no young girl. He was fine with that, though, as he'd always been. Those in his family who knew about him and Marissa thought he was barmy, but no one had the gall to tell his mother. Oh, the disaster that would bring.

He wondered, though, what she had been like as a younger woman before the golden hand and before the hermit way of life. He never pressed the issue, but sometimes, he wished he knew a little more about her. He was an open book, his expressions leading straight to his heart. Marissa was easy enough read, but it had taken him the better part of these past eight years to really know her.

Charlie's face became interested when she mentioned eggs. Small talk was over for him, now. There were dragon eggs to be spoken of! They were precious to him, as Marissa knew all too well. "How many? How far along are they, you think?" he asked knowing she must be very busy. Dragon eggs required special care. The creatures were so rare.

"And I've been..." he teetered his head from side to side. "All right, I suppose. Only nasty burns I've received have been of the bureaucratic variety." He pulled a tight smile. "Hence the rant, but my day is a little brighter now that I'm here with you, isn't it?"

“Three,” she responded immediately, waving her hand. “I think I must’ve caught them only a day or two after being laid, too. The mucosal strings had barely dried.” Not necessarily good ‘bar talk’, as far as other people were considered … but Marissa was quite certain Charlie wouldn’t mind. Besides, anyone who was listening in on them had the right to be disgusted. It wasn’t their business, after all.

Her lips twitched into a smile. It was the same with her as it was with Charlie and the dragons - complete and utter devotion. It had been so much easier during the coming of the Second War just to pay attention to the dragons. She’d tried to do a few things for the rest of the Order, though - she’d offered up the jagged cliffs as a shelter to those hiding from Snatchers, she’d done a few surprise visits to ‘friends’ at the Ministry to gather information.

But she’d been quiet about it. All of the punch of her youth had felt like it’d been drained out of her after her sister’s kidnapping and she’d been -- miserable, for the most part. She let herself take his hand and turn it over with equally rough fingers, feeling out the callouses.

“Nemhain’s the mother, I can tell. The whole lot of them is protective of the nesting area, of course - but she’s the most reliable out of the ladies we’ve got right now. It’s good news, even if she’s going to be a bitch for months now.” Her parents (situated with another group of the dragons farther south on the island) had been starting to worry about the health of their brood.

The description rolled right off his shoulders as jargon of the trade. Charlie was listening adamantly. Having found the eggs so soon was a good thing. Ensuring proper heat and shelter on those cliffs was always a priority, so the sooner the eggs were found the better. It was good handling.

He was pulled out of his own head of questions when Marissa took his hand. Though he knew how rough they looked, Charlie had never been embarrassed by his weathered hands and broken nails. They were gentle when they needed be and just as strong at other times. If he'd wanted pretty hands, he would have become the Minister's lap dog like Percy. But no, he didn't care about his hands, as long as they could get the job done.

It made him glad to have someone who could appreciate the sometimes gnarly looking hands of another dragon handler -- at least he wasn't missing any fingers. Though, it made him wonder what Marissa was thinking of them, or if she was thinking of them at all. She often got that far away look in her eye and he knew she was going to a place in the past. He wished he could give the refuge she needed to work beyond the past, but until he could offer such, talk of dragons and some support were what he had to offer.

Charlie reached for his drink with his free hand and took a quick swig to wet his slightly parched throat, which Marissa had a way of causing. "The mothers are always so protective," he commented. "They can be so trusting, but the moment that those eggs are laid, they can be the most unruly sort."

“At least she seems to have a good enough head on her shoulders not to try and stop me from putting up the wards that need to be put up. It isn’t as if they affect her or the others in the least, especially with the ones I’ve worked out.” Talking about work was simply the easiest path to take with Charlie. She’d always tried to stick to work in their conversations, to keep things from getting too … personal.

That didn’t mean it was what she wanted to talk about constantly. Lately he’d had a bad habit of relaxing her to the point where she didn’t catch herself until she was already saying something she hadn’t meant to. Apparently now was one of those times. She flexed the fingers of her replacement hand against Charlie’s palm. “You know,” she said quietly, “I don’t think I ever told you about the earthquake. I mean, I’m sure you know...” It wasn’t like he wanted to hear about it, she was sure.

“Actually, never mind.”

Talking about work came easy to Charlie. It was his entire existence, after all. He spent his days and most nights with the dragons -- taming them, handling them, keeping watch over those that were ill. He didn't have a family at home waiting, his family was the dragons he cared for, which probably sounded a little sad to most people, but Marissa wasn't most people. She could understand how his life had little personal time to it.

But little personal time didn't mean he had zero personal time or personality. Charlie was a very animated man. He'd been popular in school and kept most of the friendships he stumbled into. He had no aversions to deeper conversation. He just wasn't sure if a bar was the appropriate place to divulge such things. He worried about her feeling vulnerable in such a situation.

"I remember the earthquake," Charlie said quietly. "I was young, but I do remember it. Dad was stuck at the Ministry and my mum was a mess. Probably would have gone after him herself if the wee ones hadn't been there." He sighed softly, finished sharing his part as to not impede on hers. "It's all right if you want to talk about it. I have time." He pulled a quick, reassuring smile. "Perhaps not in the Leaky if that would make you feel more comfortable? I've always wondered how you got that hand, after all."

Normally she might’ve tried to get out of having him come home with her, or at least given him a hard time about using the story as a way out of the bar. She had more or less finished her pint, however, and she was admittedly more comfortable at home. Marissa pursed her lips into a tight line and glanced over to Charlie for a moment before she nodded.

“All right, then. But you’d best not get your hopes up too high. It isn’t as glamorous as you’re imagining, I’m sure.” After all, it sounded more like a mistake that a silly over-zealous girl would make than anything else. That was more or less what it had been, actually.

“The floo will be fastest.” Even though she rarely let anyone in through the floo anymore. The wards were strict - but Charlie had been very recently added as an exception directly to the house. She couldn’t recall whether she’d even told him about it, actually. Marissa pushed up from her chair and headed over to the fireplace.

Charlie chuckled into his drink as he downed the last of his pint. He didn't have high hopes for the story. In fact, he had no hopes at all. He honestly hadn't a clue how she had lost the hand nor why it couldn't be reattached. He figured that there was some gore to the story, but he doubted it would be anything that he couldn't stomach. He'd seen several horrid, evil things in the past three and a half years. Not to mention his job came with the risk of being maimed if you didn't watch your step.

When Marissa stood up, Charlie followed suit. He was mildly surprised when Marissa chose the floo. Apparating about half a mile from her place was the normal practice for him. He knew how strict she was about wards and enchantments to keep others at bay. "I didn't know I was allowed," Charlie said as he pulled his cloak around his broad shoulders to cover his clothes. He then got a hint of a smirk on his face, feeling a slight ego boost. "Now, you'll never get rid of me," he added before following her to the hearth to take his pinch of powder.

Once she’d dusted herself off on the mat in front of the floo, she turned to face the fireplace and waited until Charlie was out of it. “Consider this a one-time occurrence, then. I didn’t think about the fact you were likely to stalk me in my home and watch me while I sleep.” She snorted, shaking her head and hanging up her cloak on a nearby hook. Charlie should have known to do the same.

“Right, then. Now, where was I.” She settled down onto one of the worn couches nearby, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaving just enough room that Charlie could sit down next to her if he wanted to. “Ah, yes. The earthquake at the Ministry. I used to work there, you know.” He probably didn’t know, however -- she hadn’t made it a habit to tell people much about things between her time at Hogwarts and now, really. “Experimental charms. I’m still bloody good at them.” She was no less careful despite having blown her hand off practicing them.

“I was trying out a new set of charms when the earthquake hit. Those lectures that your Charms professor gives you are well-warranted - about a mis-swish or mis-flick causing major problems. With this particularly finicky charms, I ended up blowing off my hand. And you know magical injuries can’t be cured easily.” And really, that was the extent of her exciting story. “Podmore had to carry me to St. Mungo’s himself.”

Charlie stepped out, shaking his cloak before hanging it up on a hook next to Marissa’s. “Well, I hadn’t considered the stalking possibilities, but now that you mention them...” he said, deadpanning the words. He gave her a lopsided smile and ran his hands through his dusty hair as he followed her to the couch.

Taking a seat, Charlie was rapt with attention when Marissa immediately launched into her story. He hadn’t known that she used to work at the Ministry. He’d always known her from the dragon reserves. Losing a hand, though, that was certainly a good as any reason to find another line of work. He was great with charms himself. One had to be to handle such unpredictable creatures as dragons. And Podmore was in this story? How gallant of him.

“Blowing your hand to bits certainly isn’t an easy fix,” Charlie agreed with a crease in his brow and a frown. “So, Podmore just happened to be there?” he asked. He knew that she and Podmore had once been a couple, but he didn’t know details. Maybe this was when their romance had began? Because he was her savior? That seemed a little too fairytale for the Marissa whom Charlie knew.

At least from Marissa’s point of view, things with Sturgis had started out before that. He’d been having a tough time, she’d been … well, distanced from Otto for some time. She rubbed her hand over the back of her neck, half-embarrassed to even be telling this story. But she knew that Charlie deserved, after all these years of being patient with her, something about her past.

She smirked. “It’s something about it being done by magical charms that makes it unfixable. Just my luck, right? And -- no, Sturgis wasn’t there. I sent out a general patronus to the group when things went bad at the ministry. Took a hell of a lot of effort to send that one out, let me tell you.” Marissa shook her head.

“I didn’t have much taste for charms for years after that. And by that point, it was a bit too late to go back to the Ministry and ask for my job back.” And a good thing she hadn’t, considering the way things had gone in the last year before Voldemort’s ‘final’ fall. She paused then, half-leaning against him. She was hesitating, and it was obvious.

“I think … that’s where things started with me, really. After that, it was just -- one thing after another, you know? When you’re young, you don’t think much of joining something like the Order -- you don’t take it seriously until it’s too late, so to speak.”