Yours truly ; Charlie Weasley

Eighteen

"I wouldn't do that. If you want them to know, you'll tell them yourself. I'm not about to do that for you." He said. "I want to talk to Charlie. He's up there, right?"

I nodded.

"The door should be unlocked."

We walked back out of the office and while I made my way to the front of the shop, Bill made his way towards the staircase that led upstairs to the loft.

"What did Bill want?" Valencia asked when I walked over to help her restock a shelf of book. "And... where's he at?"

"Oh, he had to borrow a book." I lied. It was the first explanation that popped into my head. "He'll probably be down again in a moment."

Bill did eventually come back downstairs. He gave me a hug and whispered that he had given Charlie a beating for me, before he winked at me in that friendly way of his as he left the boutique. I immediately looked towards the door that led to the backrooms and the staircase, and I felt my curiosity grow but I decided to stay down here.

The more time down here without Charlie, the better. When I finished helping Valencia with the books, I grabbed the now empty box and glanced out at the busy streets of Diagon Alley, as I made my way out back. Instead of going up, I went down the stairs to the storage room in the basement.

Calypso was counting orders, making sure we got everything in this morning. It was her favourite duty for some reason – standing down here and counting the orders. I walked past her, earning a glance as I put the box away.

"You look tired." she simply stated. I looked at her and shrugged before sighing heavily. I mean, she wasn't exactly wrong. Last night it took me a while to fall asleep. All I could think about was that Charlie was back and he was sitting right out there in either the living room or the kitchen.

"Aren't we all tired?"

"I certainly am." she nodded slowly. "Have been ever since the war."

I bit my lip and folded my arms over my chest while watching my sister's side-profile as her eyes went to over ten different places on the shelves.

"War leaves trauma." I said. "It takes a while to get over and it's only been a little over a year."

Calypso looked at me and squinted her eyes at me while biting down on her pen. "Have you written with Amethyst lately?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, I have." she informed me. "Apparently she and Wood has been writing together for a while now and they're planning on going on a date once Ames graduate next month."

My eyebrows knitted together into a frown.

"Oliver Wood?" I asked. "Isn't he like–  five years older than her?"

"I guess." Calypso shrugged. "But that isn't a lot, and age is just a number."

"True." I nodded. "I'm just thinking about the age she's at right now. She just turned nineteen. He would be twenty-four or at least turning it."

Alright, that doesn't seem like a lot.

"If she's happy–" I breathed with a shrug of my shoulders. "... then so am I."

When the work day once finished and I closed up after my sisters left, I felt like I could finally breathe and drop the act. All day I had to act like Charlie wasn't right upstairs, breaking my heart every time he entered my thoughts, but now that I was alone, the grimace dropped and a frown of pain and frustration hit my face as I walked around, tidying up the shop. It was quite dark in here, the only light being the one from outside.

I didn't want to turn on the lights. I liked walking around in the dark, unless it was pitch black, meaning I wouldn't be able to see anything. No– this was nice and it helped me think better. Maybe I was stalling. Normally, I didn't clean this much after a work day. I normally did a complete sweep of the shop on Fridays when I closed up, but today was Saturday. I normally didn't open the shop on Saturdays but I asked my sisters if they were free to come and work because I really needed my mind of shit. That was before Charlie came back. I had cleaned the shop completely yesterday but now I was doing it again to stall on getting back to the loft.

Though it didn't seem as it was in my favour. Charlie knew my working hours so when forty-five minutes passed and I hadn't come back up, I heard the footsteps on the stairs out back and shortly after he showed his face in the shop.

He looked as attractive as this morning, though he had some stained blood right under his right nostril. It wasn't bleeding actively and it had been quite a while since Bill had been here, but there was some stained blood that Charlie hadn't gotten rid of.

"Are you gonna come upstairs?" he asked in a soft voice, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants while he looked at me with his head tilted to the right side.

"What happened to your face?" I asked, deciding to ignore his question. I already knew what had happened but I wanted the satisfaction of hearing him say it.

"Bill isn't too happy with me." he explained. "He's got a great right hook."

I hummed and finished up in the shop, making sure that the front door was locked, before I turned towards Charlie.

"Good."

"Yeah, I definitely deserved that." he nodded. "If I were him, I wouldn't have stopped with one punch."

"Neither would I." I agreed. "But I'm not gonna punch you if that's what you're looking for. There's a difference between being punched by your brother than being punched by your girlf– ex-girlfriend."

I gulped, hoping he didn't notice I almost called myself his girlfriend. I wasn't his girlfriend anymore. I was his ex.

"And I'm not into domestic abuse." I added. Being the woman who hits her partner is as bad as a man who hits his partner. Somehow though, the world goes crazy if a man hits his girlfriend but if a woman hits her boyfriend, they somehow think he did something to deserve it, and even though he might've deserved it, it's just as wrong. I'm not about to hit him, no matter how angry I am with him.

"Not exactly domestic abuse if we aren't together." He joked, cracking a smile, though it quickly dropped when he saw I didn't find it funny.

I looked at him, slowly wetting my lips before I approached him. I stopped when I stood right in front of him, looking up at his face.

"You have to look for a flat." I told him. "Or a house. I don't really care— could be a cave. I just want you gone as quick as possible."