No one had ever told him how good winning would feel.

Charlie wasn't sure if he could handle all of the emotion that was rushing through him. He'd jumped off his broom within ten feet of the ground, sure that he'd sprained his ankle but pushing through whatever pain, whatever soreness he was feeling. Charlie had literally worked half of his life for this moment, and all he could manage to do was jump, scream, and jump some more. He couldn't stand still, he couldn't try to stand for a quick interview with the WWN correspondent, he couldn't even stay in the dog pile that his team had ended up in (he did manage to jump on top of it, though). There were fireworks going off but Charlie couldn't tell if they were in the stadium or bouncing around in his head. It felt like the entire pitch was one gigantic blur of green and flashing lights, of bodies flying around, running around, it was sensational.

Somehow, in something short of a miracle, they managed to drag him off the pitch and down the dark cement tunnel that lead to the locker rooms, where the celebration would truly begin. Champagne, fireworks, shooting streamers and everything anyone could ever want to explode in joy would be awaiting them. Maybe there would be cake, maybe there would be music, there should be music because this moment needed its own soundtrack, it needed----

He didn't know how, but the smile that had been plastered to his face somehow grew wider at the sight that laid before him. Charlie hadn't even reached the locker rooms, they were no where near there, but the one person that had helped him (and almost ruined him, if he was honest) this season was standing in front of him. Standing and waiting, and smiling and looking as if she'd just gone through the brutal match herself. His entire team was crammed in this small tunnel around him, none of them who were even aware of this reinstated relationship because of the dramatics it could cause and Charlie couldn't be bothered to notice as he pushed through his teammates and coaches and other Kestrel people to get to her. She was the reason he'd worked so hard, she was the reason he'd managed to keep his cool, she was the reason he did most of the things he did these days, and good God did he need to thank her for it.

Their hands reached out for each other without a word, and Charlie gripped at the side of Penelope's face while she took hold of his jersey. Her hair was soaking wet, her clothes were as drenched as his, but it all went unnoticed as he kissed her hard, pulling her tightly to him, her own grip bringing them closer. The constant motion Charlie had been in for the last four hours didn't stop with this kiss, this snog; his entire body moved with hers until they had crossed the wide corridor and against the cement wall. Charlie's arm snaked around Penny and within second he had her up in the air, her legs automatically locking around his like so many times before, this was perfect, it was the perfect ending to any match he could ever have and---

"GET A BLOODY ROOM," one, two, if not all his teammates shouted from behind them. Charlie would be hard pressed to listen, but he instead turned back and grinned, holding Penny up and tightly still to him.

"Go!" she whispered, kissing his cheek a few times, his chin, and then his lips once again, "Go, go!"

Charlie pulled her closer still, kissing her soundly for a few more moments---more than that, he wouldn't stop until they pried them apart, which would probably happen once the press started its way down the tunnels. The champagne could wait, it could definitely wait while he thanked Penelope Fawcett in the best way he knew how.

return to top

“I hate snow. I hate school. I hate her.”

“Buck up, Charlie,” Octavius Pepper said encouragingly, cuffing his friend in the shoulder. The two trudged through the high snow of the fields of Hogwarts, heading toward the frozen Great Lake. Charlie could barely feel his friend’s light punch, but it annoyed him just the same. Octavius didn’t seem to notice his best friend’s frustrations and continued on in his chipper tone, “Think about it, if you hit your growth spurt just like Delilah, you’d have boobs.”

Charlie stopped, the snow reaching past his knees. Was Octavius an idiot? Had he gone four years without realizing that his best mate was a complete and utter moron?

“I’m joking,” Octavius said, much to Charlie’s relief even though he tried not to show it on his face. They boys continued on their trek, and Charlie continued to mutter.

“She’s just so bloody embarrassing,” Charlie complained. This trip out onto the castle grounds had been to get his mind off of his irritating twin sister, but it seemed like even miles upon miles of white, snow-covered ground could not erase his twin’s chesire-cat like grin. She lived to embarrass him, and maybe he’d deserved it for telling her she looked like a giant bird, but she didn’t have to mention that she was a good head taller than him.

A bloke has few things to cherish in his life, and his masculinity is one of them. Girls don’t need to be tall to be pretty. There were no short famous people, there were no short quiddtich players outside of the girls who flew around like hummingbirds. Why on earth would she have called the attention on all of the common room to just let them know that he was the shortest boy in their year, maybe the entire House?

With each step Charlie grew more agitated, the little hill acting as an opposing force against his mental relief, “I--just---hate----her.”

“Nooo,” Octavius said, struggling up behind Charlie. His face was bright red from the cold, his hat constantly slipping off because the hair that was sticking at all ends underneath it, “Sisters are stupid, believe me, I’ve got two of them. At least you don’t have six brothers who actually are taller than you and can sit on you for hours without feeling the need to get up to let your legs regain some feeling...”

“Sextus really is an ass,” Charlie lamented, finally having reached the top of the hill. Even though his sister could be very annoying, Octavius always put the situation into perspective whether he knew it or not. One obnoxious sister was definitely better than eight siblings who could team up at once if they so desired. He put out his hand to help Octavius up the final few feet.

“He really is,” Octavius agreed, wiping some snow off his pants as he stood with Charlie on top of the hill. “Look, we made it!”

It seemed more impressive than it was; everything was white with snow and only the castle seemed to tower over them. Even the trees seemed to shrink with the weight of the snow, and for a second Charlie felt like he was the tallest man in the world. It also helped that Octavius was only an inch or two (or three, four--) taller than him, and with their winter hats who could tell the difference? Charlie took in a deep breath at the sight of the shimmering grounds, forgetting in the moment what had sent him climbing up this hill.

Deciding that they could not wait any longer, Charlie reached into his coat pocket. He pulled the shrunken sled out and flapped it open onto the ground, grinning at how it was now solid and ready to ride. It was a marvelous piece of magic, if he did say so himself, and Octavius had been the one to save the sled before Filch turned it into firewood. A few weeks worth of tinkering and keeping the project a super-top-secret secret (probably one of the reasons why Delilah had been so pissy with him), Octavius had deemed it the best day to take it out for a test run.

Charlie gestured for Octavius to take the helm, as he was the one who had found the sled, and, on a more silent, never to be told because that was just not manly note, Octavius had also managed to be the best friend he could’ve ever asked for. Even if all he did was suggest sledding and make fun of his sister. What more could a fourteen year old boy want from a friend?

“Ready, ChaCha?” Octavius said, tugging his scarf tighter around his neck, wrapping it once more to cover his face. Charlie jumped onto the sled behind his friend and latched onto the side handles. He could feel the sled beginning to twitch forward, their weight tilting it down the hill before they could even push off.

“Absolutely, Pepe!”

return to top

While Octavius had laid claims on the freshly single Maggie Brand, Charlie had decided that he would take on a more interesting challenge. What fun was it to win over a girl who’d just gotten her heart broken and was looking for a rebound? Charlie could definitely see the benefits in that chase and would salute his friend if he managed a victory, but he had his sights set on a more elusive prize.

“Never going to happen.”

He frowned deeply at his twin sister, who was just shaking her head in disbelief as he explained his motives. He’d needed to get into the dueling club’s party and Delilah was his only way in. She never seemed to believe in any of his ideas, and this one was no exception.

“I’m a very handsome, fit bloke,” Charlie said, turning back to the long mirror that the duelers used to examine their stances. “There is no reason for her not to go for it.”

“There’s one reason, one rather intimidating Slytherin-shaped reason, and his name is Donovan Rookwood, a.k.a. her boyfriend of nearly three years,” Delilah rattled off, her head still moving back and forth.

Charlie rolled his eyes at the mention of Rookwood; Danielle Kettleburn had been locked into that relationship at the young, naive age of fourteen---Charlie would give her a sampling of what a real man tasted like, and she would forget that pompous Slytherin in a second. What was the prettiest, smartest girl in their year doing with a bloke like that anyway? Charlie could maybe understand the infatuation coming from a girl like Bertha, who seemed to fall in love with every guy that passed her by, but Danielle? She was way too smart for that, and Charlie would just have to break whatever spell Rookwood and his Slytherin ways had put her under.

It was going to be rather easy, he felt.

“Wish me luck,” he said with one final slick back of his hair.

“You’re an idiot and you’re going to get yourself killed,” Delilah offered, and Charlie decided that he was not going to give her the sickles he’d bribed her with to get him into this party. He made his way through the crowd, having timed Rookwood’s depature for prefect rounds perfectly. Danielle was sitting by herself in a corner table, idly watching the crowd with her hands wrapped around a goblet of pumpkin juice.

“Oy.”

Charlie sat down across from her and grinned lazily, his eyebrow going high. He had been practicing this look in the mirror, and was pleased with Danielle’s look of surprise and the blush on her cheeks.

“Hi,” she responded, shifting in her seat, eyes darting about. This was a good thing, he’d already flustered her.

“You were brilliant in the match yesterday,” he said, knowing that a lady always liked to be complimented on something other than her looks. His grin widened as Danielle smiled and she nodded a thanks. “You were pretty brilliant in charms last week too.”

“Oh?” she let out in surprise, and Charlie knew he had her. Not only had he let her know that he watched her duel, he also pointed out that he had been paying attention to her masterful charm work. Complimenting a girl on her skills and her brains was a straight way into the broom closet for a snog. He was sure she couldn’t even recall that Slytherin’s name right now (because he sure couldn’t), and Charlie leaned over the table, his chair legs lifting up as he found himself literally on the edge of his seat. His voice went low.

“I bet you’re brilliant in other ways too.”

A smart girl like Danielle could figure out that innuendo quickly, Charlie was sure, but he never got the chance to see if she did because quite suddenly the legs of his chair slipped out from under him---or more precisely, were kicked out from under him. He clocked his chin into the table before heavily hitting the ground, and he rubbed the sore spot as he lifted his head.

Donovan Rookwood stared hard down at him, his lips twisted angrily, “I suggest you take your brilliant idea elsewhere.”

Charlie grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet, avoiding Danielle’s eyes completely as he made his way through the crowd and out of this stupid party. Apparently mister perfect prefect Slytherin had forgotten his cloak and had to come back and completely ruin Charlie’s own attempt at sabotage. Delilah was never going to let him hear the end of this, and now he’d have yet another prefect against him.

Brilliant.

return to top

He really needed to pee and was doing a terrible job of hiding this fact. Charlie bounced from one foot to the other as the prefect went on and on and on about the history of Hogwarts, about how Gryffindor was the best house, how lucky they were to be in Gryffindor, let's talk about the architecture now!

Charlie's hand shot up in the air, grabbing the prefect's attention. "Yes, Mr. Spinnet?"

The first year was startled that the prefect...Arch...ie? That Archie had remembered his name, because he was rather sure that he hadn't introduced himself, but maybe he'd been paying close attention to the Sorting Hat song. Merlin that had been terrifying. Charlie had been so nervous and had really hoped they would send Delilah first but it was done in alphabetical order and of course C came before D and---

His twin nudged him in the side and Charlie nearly wet himself, literally. He bounced on his toes, "I need to use the loo! Can we get to the dorms?" he asked, far too frantically. He expected to get laughed at, but there were only signs of agreement and whispers of exhaustion.

"Me too!" a redheaded girl squeaked. They had literally been standing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady for twenty minutes, it had to be past their bed time. The morning had been long, the train ride had been longer, and the welcome feast had been the longest ever.

Archie's eyes widened and his gaze dropped down to his watch, "Whoops! Okay! Let's get you lot to bed! We'll continue to the tour in the morning!" He frowned at the groans that were let out at this news, but chose to ignore it and turned to give the Fat Lady the password, "Wombat!"

The Fat Lady stared back for a few long seconds and then shook her head. Archie visibly twitched and began to insist that 'wombat' was the password! Charlie dropped his head back and pushed his way through the small group of Gryffindors, ready to pass out from holding it in for so long.

"Maybe we'll get to sleep out in the hall!" Delilah whispered excitedly, right on Charlie's heels. It wasn't a surprise that the twins had been sorted into the same House, but as a growing boy, Charlie was very grateful that a completely separate dorm would give him some space from his energetic twin. "Wouldn't that be fun? Maybe the ghosts will come and tell us stories! Ooohhh, or maybe there are creatures that come through at night and we would have to fight them!"

"I am going to pee my pants, Delly," Charlie snapped, "Stop talking!"

"Good news, first years!" Archie's voice rang out, though it sounded much less authoritative and assured than a few minutes ago, "I just have to run back to Professor McGonagall's office and---you'll be in bed! Stay right here!" The prefect did not give them an opportunity to object before rushing by them, his quick walk turning into a sprint before he rounded the corner.

"Where's he going?" one of the other boys fretted. His hair was parted down the middle, slicked down with something greasy. Charlie had judged him immediately, sure that he would not make the time to speak to him not only based on his looks, but because he could most likely not pronounce his funny name correctly. Octovos? Oct-tavee? Charlie shook his head and glared, but stayed silent. The funny named boy came up to Delilah eyes wide.

"What was that you said about creatures? My brother said there would be---but----really?"

"Maybe!" Delilah squeaked hopefully, but the blonde girl, Maggie (Charlie had made sure to remember her name), interrupted.

"No, there aren't, don't be stupid," she snipped. Delilah turned red and opened her mouth wide, but Charlie clamped his hand over it to stop what would most definitely be a fight. Maggie huffed and crossed her arms, looking quite unamused by the whole ordeal. The last first year of the group, a taller boy named Kirke (---or was it Rafe?), it was one of those, Charlie couldn't recall as he had to pee really badly, shifted away from Maggie as if to preemptively avoid getting hit in her frustrations.

"Well, if you'd excuse me," Charlie let out, heading down the corridor after the prefect. He'd sworn he'd seen a loo, "I'm gonna go take a piss."

"You can't leave!" Delilah said, but she was once again right behind him, nearly skipping with eagerness to follow. "We'll get in trouble!"

"Would you rather me pee on the Fat Lady?" Charlie said loudly ("You must be joking with that!" the portrait rang out). When Delilah didn't argue, Charlie kept walking at a brisk pace with his sister by his side, and it wasn't until he was turning the corner that he realized his twin wasn't the only one following him. He stopped and turned to see the rest of the Gryffindor first years hot on his trail.

"We're not going to stay there, alone!" the redhead, Bertha, cried, "And I have to pee too!"

The other three nodded along, and Charlie shrugged. It didn't matter to him what they did as long as he found a loo, and they started off into the dark corridors with absolutely no sense of direction or idea of where they should be going.

return to top

He stood in front of the locker room door, chest heaving as he tried to compose himself. His hands were itching to wring themselves around each other, but he didn’t think that would be very professional. It was bad enough that he already looked like a freshly turned eleven-year-old waiting to receive his Hogwarts letter; he didn’t need to add any more nervous tics. Charlie used all the methods he knew to compose himself, and none of them seemed to be working.

If he were honest, he probably shouldn’t even be here. He’d only been a substitute last season for four games when the Kestrels’ Keeper caught a rare case of scrofungulus. Charlie had been thrown some equipment ten minutes before the match was to begin, and told that he better not let more than four goals in if he wanted to fly on this pitch again. Somehow he managed to do so, and even though the Kestrels didn’t make the playoffs, he believed he had left a pretty good impression.

He had been invited back for the preseason, after all. Charlie had come into the training sessions with a good feeling, having heard about the old keeper’s retirement, but any positive thoughts he may have had were sucked out the window at the sight of the latest change-up in the Kestrels’ line up.

Rupert ‘Axebanger’ Brookstanton, the notorious French beater who had been banned from the game a few seasons ago, was now the Kenmare Kestrel’s newly named captain. He was just as intimidating as the papers made him out to be, and as much of a tyrant as they had predicted he would be. Charlie had stared dumbly at the man as he rattled off the new rules and regulations, and also initiating the new try-out system for this year’s starting positions. Some of the players who had secured their spots years ago muttered, but were barely fazed, but Charlie felt like he’d shrunk down to the size of a garden gnome.

He had to try-out? Again? It had taken him over a year to get the Kestrels to even look at him, and it had been another two seasons before he actually got to start a match. Now…now he had to go through it all over again? The panic that had struck him nearly stopped his heart, but somehow his body had known to get back into formation and fly his best, play his best. After all of his struggles to make it into the big league, this seemed like it would be his last shot to finally achieve his dreams.

That had been three days ago. The new starting roster was supposed to be put up today, and that was why Charlie was standing like a fool in front of the locker room door. None of the other players seemed to be around, but maybe they hadn’t actually thought their jobs were on the line. Charlie tried to keep his leg from bouncing furiously, but it seemed like that was the only thing his self-control could not stop. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest, but he feared that the strain might cause him to throw up and it was just a whole big mess and----

“Mr. Brookstanton!” he nearly yelped, taking a step back as the captain suddenly opened the locker room door and appeared before him. Charlie’s eyes went wide and he looked like he was about to be run over by the Hogwarts Express from his reflection in Axebanger’s sunglasses. The captain’s mouth stayed pressed into a thin line as the door swung shut behind him, and Charlie’s eyes couldn’t help but dart away and down—there was the roll of parchment that would change his life.

“I---I’m just…waiting for the roster. Picks.”

It felt stupid now that he said it out loud. Obviously, since no one else was here, there was to be some other way of informing everyone that they’d made the team. Merlin, could the captain take his name off now after seeing how stupid and childish he was? Waking up at the crack of dawn just to see his name on a piece of paper? Obviously if he’d been picked up there would be contracts to sign! He’d need an agent! Uniform fittings and the like! Charlie felt his face heat up in embarrassment caused by the unmoved, seemingly blank stare (the sunglasses were creepily reflective) of Axebanger.

He watched as the captain unrolled the parchment and Charlie used all of his strength not to lean over and try to see. Axebanger seemed to be giving it one final look over, and without lifting his gaze from the list he spoke,

“What is your name again?”

He felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. He felt like---he actually had been hit by the Hogwarts Express. Charlie was unable to stop his pained expression at the simple question as it felt like he’d just been slugged by a high-speed bludger, straight to the chest. The captain didn’t even know his name? How could he have made the team if Brookstanton didn’t even know who he was?

“Ch—Charlie Spinnet,” he stuttered, stunned. Axebanger looked up from the parchment with a light clearing of his throat before he turned and stuck the roster onto the locker room door. He started away without another word and Charlie, even know he knew his fate was sealed, had to step forward and see who had gotten the position. All his hard work, all his life’s work was gone, it was over, his quidditch career was over.

KEEPER - SPINNET, CHARLES

His mouth dropped, wondering if he’d been hit with a confundus spell a split second before he’d read the list. A split second before he’d read his name on the list. What, how---this didn’t make any sense, could the captain actually have just picked him without knowing what his name was, without being able to recall--

“If you are not on the pitch in ten minutes, you can scratch that name straight off,” Axebanger barked from door the hallway. Charlie turned and jumped in surprise, flushing at the amused smirk on the captain---his captain’s face. He nodded rapidly and hurriedly moved to pick up his gear before bursting into the locker room. If this was a dream, if this was a mistake, he was going to take it for every second he could.

return to top

He lifted his chin, exposing more of his skin to the bird that was currently sucking on the hollow of his neck. His eyes scanned along the tiled wall of the loo until they reached the clock, and he let out a breath; this was taking too long. Hands that were pressed against the smooth wall moved down to take hold of her shoulders, and he finally looked down at the girl.

She was a pretty little thing, blonde with sharp green eyes. Charlie relented when she pushed up on her toes to kiss him, and that lasted for a few more minutes before he broke away, shaking his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m bored,” he stated simply and brushed off the front of his shirt before striding out of the bathroom. The music from the club drowned out the girl’s shout of protest, not that it would have mattered. The flashing lights created the illusion that everyone around him was moving in stop-motion, and with his already altered, alcohol-induced state, they may as well been. His mind had zoned out when people began to point him out, and he relished in the feeling while another drink was put into his hand.

It stung the back of his throat when he gulped it down; it must have been laced with something to add that extra kick and he let out a gasp. Charlie stopped and pushed his way to the bar, letting the drink setting in his stomach, wondering what the hell he’d just taken. He looked over his shoulder to see who’d given him the glass. No one seemed to be paying him any attention now that he was off to the side, and he needed the breather. Whatever he’d just downed, it was not settling right.

It had been nearly midnight when he’d left the bathroom, and he needed to be home to have enough sleep for his work out in the morning. Charlie knew that people thought he was a neanderthal, but there was a definite method to his madness. He worked out hard to become a better Keeper and when he worked out like he did he needed to relax before he got too wound up. Going out and having a couple of drinks was not a problem when he was always on time to practice and giving in the extra workout. Why was everyone on his ass about it? He’d never played better, and if anything he was more focused than he’d ever been.

People said that heartbreak often sent them to pieces, but Charlie was seeing the opposite affect. He’d been so wound up around Penny and then with her family troubles that he’d made some dumb mistakes considering his career. Breaking your hand right before a match was the stupidest thing he could do, and if she thought he could be better without her, then he should get something out of the breakup or...whatever it was. There were hours now he’d wasted spending his time with her, and now he was filling them up with his training and quidditch. He was a man, he was a fit young man who had needs, why should he stay wrapped up about a girl who didn’t want to be with him? He didn’t need her, if she didn’t need him then he didn’t need her and he was going to force himself to forget that he’d actually allowed himself to get played like the fool he really was.

This drink, though. Charlie blinked furiously, feeling as if the flashing lights were causing his thoughts to jumble even more than they already were. He pushed back from the bar and stumbled, wondering if he’d finally found his limit, but he honestly---had he really had that much? No, whatever they’d put it in it----

“All right there?” a gruff voice said, and a moment later someone was taking Charlie by the arm. He didn’t struggle, for a second he was rather grateful that someone had bothered to notice that something was wrong, but it seemed like his tongue had gone numb and he couldn’t get out the words. His other arm was grabbed and soon in his haze Charlie found himself basically being dragged out of the bar.

What was going on? What had he taken? Where was he going? Fuck all, man, this was all he needed. If the rags caught sight of the state he was in right now he’d be transferred to the Cannons before the break of dawn. A cold, bitter breeze hit his face. He blinked furiously, but still couldn’t see because everything was so bright. Charlie could feel the brick against his back as he was propped up against the wall, and he realized they were in the back alley of the bar because he’d escaped with a broad through this way just a few weeks ago. His head lolled forward as voices began to whisper.

“I wasn’t asking for permanent damage,” a slightly wary voice said. It seemed like the man was standing just a few feet in front of him. “Will he be all right?”

“Your fist is going to hurt him more,” another voice assured, “I used to give this to my brother so he’d miss prefect meetings, it’s harmless.”

“Just fucking get on with it, it’s freezing.” The third voice was closest to him, and was the person holding him up as his legs were ready to give away. Charlie’s mouth moved wordlessly as he tried to form words of protest, but it was as if his entire body was asleep but his mind was fully alert. There were three blokes getting ready to clobber him in a dark alley, and he had absolutely no defense against it.

He felt movement; the man who’d been holding him up had left, but before he could feel any relief another hand was at his throat, pushing him up the wall to stand. Charlie’s mind furiously fought but his limp limbs did nothing for him as the hand's grip tightened. What was he waiting for? Just hit him, the wait was getting torturous, Charlie knew he was going to wake up in the alley with his brains bashed out of him, what was he waiting for?

It seemed like an eternity, but the hand stayed in place. Charlie gasped loudly as he was released and dropped to the floor instantly.

“That was intense.”

“Let’s go, he’s not worth it.”

“We’ll get him Saturday.”

Charlie heard the sound of the footsteps grow distant, and after a couple of minute of deep breathing, the cold air seemed to revive all of his senses. His eyes adjusted to the light and he rubbed his neck, wondering what the hell had just happened. See him Saturday? What was...his eyes narrowed; could he really have just been attacked by some of the United? That was impossible, right? It...Charlie let out a frustrated sound and dropped his head back to the brick wall. Perfect. He really did have everyone on the fucking planet against him, and anything he could actually do to fix it were things he did not want to bother with, were things that he did not feel he was ready to do.

He kicked out, and stayed slumped in the alleyway, wishing they had actually beat the hell out of him. At least he’d have something physical to feel to go along with the mess that was going on inside of him.

return to top

Loud cheers could be heard from the back end of the house, the warm summer breeze carrying the happy and excited voices. Daniel Spinnet hummed the congratulatory song as he strode through the hallway and to the front door, leaving the party being thrown for his little sister’s success at the past weekend’s dueling event. He pushed open the screen with his back, careful to keep the plate of meat, cheese, and crackers from tipping over. Barefoot, he crossed the porch and trotted down the few steps to sit beside his most lonesome looking little brother.

“Eat, you’re a growing boy,” Daniel said, shoving the plate at Charlie.

“Not hungry,” Charlie said even though he swiftly put together a miniature sandwich with one hand. Daniel rolled a piece of cheddar between his fingers as his brother munched away.

“You’re missing cake and drinks,” he pointed out, leaning back into the step. The sunset over the pond that laid in front of his house reflected in a fiery glimmer. The summer was coming near an end and this would probably be one of the last weekends it would be warm enough to sit outside like this. Hogwarts students would soon be heading back to school and the quidditch season had kicked off last weekend, the latter, Daniel knew, being the reason behind his brother’s glum mood.

“I’m on a diet,” Charlie grumbled, stopping his own hand from reaching to the plate again, seeming as if he’d momentarily forgotten the strict eating habits he’d set for himself. Daniel sighed and put the plate down on the step below, digging his elbows into his thighs as he examined his brother.

“You’ll make it next season, Charlie.”

The younger brother’s head dropped, and he shook his head, “I’m won’t. No Keeper’s retiring any time soon---and they’ve seen me fly every open season since I left Hogwarts.” Charlie lifted his head to look at Daniel, and it pained the older brother to see the complete despair in his eyes, “I thought third time was supposed to be a charm.”

Daniel smirked. All Charlie had ever talked about since he’d managed to sit himself upright on a broomstick was playing quidditch. From an early age the family knew that it wasn’t a natural skill for the boy who was often quite cumbersome and clumsy, and throughout Hogwarts it had taken Charlie some time before making the team. But he had, and he was good. Daniel had been to all of his matches and he could see with each game his brother’s skill level increasing, that he learned from his triumphs and his mistakes. Why these professional teams didn’t seem to take that into consideration...well, to Daniel, it seemed that his brother’s nerves often got the best of him, and that these important team tryouts were the biggest cause behind Charlie’s panic attacks and stress. He simply could not perform when he needed to.

“They don’t know what they’re missing out on,” Daniel said, clamping a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Charlie shook his head. “You’ve got time.”

“I’m twenty years old and all I know how to do is keep a ball from going into a hoop,” Charlie said, shoulders high as his breath hitched. “And apparently I’m not even that good at it.”

“You’re great!”

“I’m not!” Charlie exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He paced for a moment, hand running through his hair. Daniel winced; a patented Charlie panic attack was impending. “You’ve wanted to be a healer since your first year and you made the program with flying colors! Delilah decided one day that she wanted to be a dueler, and now she’s a champ! And what am I? I’m living on me mum’s couch and working at an ice cream parlour.

“I’m a complete failure,” Charlie groaned, squatting. The sun behind him was barely visibly on the horizon, the night sky seeming dark and dreary compared to the gentle sunset.

Daniel looked on sympathetically, unsure of what he could say that could make Charlie feel better. He knew that becoming a professional quidditch player was meant for the few and the lucky---if he wanted what was best for his brother, he’d suggest looking for an entry-level ministry job. At least then Charlie would have stability, a fixed income, and he’d know that he could maintain a decent life for himself. Daniel knew that’s the advice he should be giving his little brother, but he’d watched Charlie grow up with a passion for the game that couldn’t be extinguished.

“Give it one more year,” Daniel decidedly, standing. He jabbed his hands into his pockets and shrugged when Charlie snapped his gaze toward him. “Give it another year. Train harder, play faster. If you don’t make the cut, then you know you’ve done all you can.”

Charlie slowly rose, looking unsure. “What’s one more year going to do?”

“We’ll put you on a real diet,” Daniel said, eyebrows raising, “I’ll brew you up some protein potions to gain muscle, I’ll work out with you before my shifts---”

“In the morning?”

“Yes, in the morning,” Daniel laughed. “I’m serious! I’ll even try to contact some old housemates of mine that went pro---”

“Like Drake Parkin?!” Charlie yelped, putting his hands up in excitement.

“Well, he was a Ravenclaw, but...” Daniel threw an arm around Charlie’s shoulders to lead him back to the party, where he knew they were missed. He was glad to have directed his brother’s thoughts elsewhere, and hell, maybe this new workout plan could help the both of them out. Having a new baby did certainly give you a lot of time eating the leftovers your daughter threw at your face, Daniel could certainly benefit from this as well. “I did fix his hand up in complete secrecy after he broke it last playoffs...I think he owes me one.”

“I knew he’d broken it,” Charlie gasped, eyes wide. He didn’t even flinch when Delilah sprayed streamers in his face. “You could tell, he was favoring his left side...”

return to top