Yours truly ; Charlie Weasley

Twenty-five

Either he was dead, maybe it was me, or maybe it was the both of us. I couldn't take my eyes off of Charlie. The way he was curled up on the sofa, his ginger curls a mess on his head and his lips parted as he breathed heavily through them.

I started imagining what our daughter would've looked like, and then I started crying again as I continued to cry.

Charlie and I could've been happily married with a little baby sleeping peacefully in her crib right now. She would've been adorable with a few red hairs on her head. Her eyes would eventually be either blue, green, a mix or maybe even brown. I would've wanted her to be called either Clover, Enola or Izora.

Those were three names I really liked for a little girl. It's some I had always picked out. I've always imagined myself being a first-time mum to a girl — I don't know why. Though when I found out I was pregnant, I also started looking at boys names. I was so excited.

I liked Theo or Canyon, perhaps even Marino, but now I'm not pregnant and I'm probably not gonna get the chance to become a mum until I'm in my thirties, and women are most fertile in their twenties, so that sucks.

I slid off the table, making my way towards the sofa while taking another big sip of the bottle. With a sigh, I sat down on the coffee table, staring at Charlie's beautiful face as he lied there.

If he ever fucking leaves me again, I'll cuff him to our bed. I don't care if I'll have to feed him and hold his fucking cock when he needs to pee into a bottle.

If he leaves me, I'll kill him.

It's that simple.

Suddenly Charlie opened his eyes, looking at me with them narrowed. He then rubbed them and sighed softly as he pulled himself up to sit. I watched while he put his feet on the ground and looked at me again as we sat in front of each other.

"I could feel your eyes on me."

"You could?" I mumbled. "You normally sleep heavily."

He chuckled softly, his eyes going from the bottle in my hand and up to my face as I took a sip.

"Well, the sofa is shit to sleep on." He told me. "Angel, why are you drinking at this time?"

"Because I'm tired."

He placed his hands on my thighs, giving them a squeeze as he watched me sip off the bottle again.

"If you're tired, you should be sleeping."

"Not tired. Not like that." I sighed out of frustration. "I'm tired of dreaming about death. You killed me and my family didn't care."

When I went to take another sip, Charlie grabbed the bottle from my hand and sniffed it before he scrunched up his nose.

"I don't recognise this. Did you go out and get it?" He asked before he eyed my clothing. "No.. couldn't have. Not in your knickers and a t-shirt."

He looked up at my face again with a wondering look.

"Where'd you get this?"

I looked at the bottle he was holding, then at his face before I stood up.

"I'm going to bed." I announced, but as I stood up, so did he. He grabbed my hand, forcing me back.

"Don't tell me you're hiding alcohol somewhere." He said with a disappointed sigh. He watched my face for a moment, then shook his head at me. "Jesus, Ember. Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"Your stash!" He raised his voice slightly. I ripped my hand from his, taking a step back.

"I don't see what the big deal is."

"You don't—" he let out a laugh, shaking his head. "A few nights ago, you were drinking too. You drank an entire bottle of fire whisky because it was gone in the morning, but you weren't hungover."

"So?" I scoffed. "What are you trying to say, Charlie? I am sorry that I am such a wreck but you are the one who fucking left. You lived your life in Romania while I was stuck in my boring ass life. I lost almost everything. You, our baby, the future we had planned together. You don't get to judge me for drinking."

"I'm not judging you for drinking." He said. "I'm judging you for the amount you do drink. This isn't healthy. Hiding a stash, coming up with excuses for your drinking and getting aggressive."

"I'm not getting aggressive!" I yelled. "You're just being a fucking asshole!"

"I'm being an asshole?" He laughed. "For looking out for you? You've got a drinking problem, Ember!"

I flicked him off in response, feeling the anger starting to boil inside of me.

"I do not have a drinking problem."

I do not have a drinking problem.

"My uncle had a drinking problem." Charlie told me. "I know what it looks like."

"And what does to look like?" I asked. "You can't judge me on the small amount I've had to drink!"

"No, but I can judge you on the many bottles that keep disappearing from the cupboard and empty bottles on the counter in the morning that I know we've never owned." He said. "You're hiding it somewhere because deep down you're embarrassed of your drinking habit."

I took two long steps towards Charlie and grabbed the bottle of vodka from his hand before marching into the bathroom. Charlie followed behind but I got the door closed and locked it.

"Ember!" He yelled. "Don't you dare continue drinking that shit!"

"Why can't I drink vodka when you can drink whisky?!" I yelled. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my system before I threw my head back, placing the bottle at my lips, feeling the liquid running down my throat.

I heard a spell being cast, and the door flew open, making me jump.

"You've been back for less than a month." I told him. "You have no right coming in here and telling me if I can or cannot drink."

"I'm trying to help you." He said. "You can't seek to alcohol whenever you have a nightmare. It's not healthy."

He reached for the bottle, but I held it back, staring at him cautiously.

"Give me the bottle, Ember."

"No."

"Just— give it to me, we can go to bed and we can talk about this in the morning." He said. "Or I can mention it when we start couples counselling. I bet the therapist will tell you exactly what I just did."

I bit onto my lip, fighting the urge to cry as I slowly handed over the bottle.

"It was the only pain relief I had in those six months." I excused myself. "You can't just take it away."