Yours truly ; Charlie Weasley

Twenty

Somehow, we both ended up falling asleep, me in his arms. When I woke up again, it was the next morning and Charlie was sleeping heavily, soft snores coming from him.

His head was buried in the pillow next to mine, his hair a mess of light red curls around his head. One of his arms had let go of me in his sleep and was lying above his head but the other was still wrapped around my body.

His tones and muscled chest was rising and falling slowly and from time to time, he'd make some noise or mumble in his sleep.

I found myself studying his face. It was weird waking up to him after six month of not being with him, but for some reason, I liked it and for the first time in so long, I actually woke up with a smile on my face.

Oh fuck.

My smile dropped when I remembered everything I went through. All the pain, all the nights I would wake up sweating from a nightmare. It was all because of him, yet here I was, cuddling up with him like nothing has happened.

With a sigh, I rolled out of his arms. When I got out of bed, I heard him whine in his sleep as he moved onto his stomach, bending a knee towards his side as one arm slid under his pillow, the other resting next to his side. The duvet was covering only the lower half of his body so I could clearly see the muscles on his toned back, plus the tattoos.

He always had a thing for tattoos. Most of them had something to do with dragons. He also had his siblings and his parents birthdays tattooed in runes on one of his sides. It was a tree but on each branch, there was a date written in runes.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed, running my fingers over the tree on his side. Then my eyes noticed something knew about the tattoo. Usually there was eight dates — his parents at the top and then his siblings in order from oldest to youngest, though there was a date inked into his skin right beneath the roots of the tree.

My eyes flicked to Charlie's sleeping face before I quickly got up and walked to the bookshelf next to the desk. I found the books with the runic numbers and walked back to the bed, sitting down as I opened up the book.

I looked at the signs that was tattooed on his skin and my eyes widened when I had translated every sign of the new date.

27/08-73

He had tattooed my birthday underneath the tree. 27th of August, 1973. He had my birthday tattooed on the skin of his left side — on his rib cage.

"Jesus." I muttered, closing my eyes for a second to gather my thoughts. He did not do that. He did not fucking get my birthday tattooed.

I stood up again, closing the book before I put it away. I walked out of the room, glancing back at him before shaking my head at the thought.

I went for a shower and when I got out, Charlie was awake, taking advantage of the fact I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, to cook some for the both of us.

Once I got myself dressed, I joined him in the kitchen while I pulled my hair back into a quick and messy bun.

"Charlie?" I asked, leaning on the wall by the counter. He glanced at me with a hum before going back to focusing on the breakfast. "When did you get my birthday tattooed on your skin?"

He froze for a moment, seeming to think about it before he continued cooking.

"I got it done in Romania."

"Okay—" I breathed. "But why?"

"What do you mean; why?" He asked and looked at me. "Because I love you."

I don't know why that hurt so much to hear. It felt like he had punched me right in the chest. He could punch me in the chest and that would hurt less.

"Because while I thought I was doing you a favour by disappearing from your life, I still loved you. That's something that'll never fade, and I wanted something that was dedicated to you — like a reminder."

"A reminder?"

"Of everything we've been through together." He continued, turning his head away from me again, turning the sausages on the pan. He was making a full British breakfast.

He used to do that sometimes on Sundays. It was nice waking up to.

"Because no matter what happens, you're still the favourite thing I've ever come across and I wanted something to keep me reminded of what you did for me. You kept me grounded, like the roots on a tree." He said and lifted his arm. He used the fingers on his other hand to run over the date underneath the roots of the tree tattooed on his rib cage, then he looked at me. "That's why you're by the roots, because in our relationship, I was the tree and you were the roots that kept me grounded."