True Love is Blind (A Charlie Weasley Love Story)

Chapter 11

I had written to Charlie, letting him know what was going on, but he had not replied. I was nervous; I had not heard from him in almost two weeks and I was panicked. My mind kept racing over things that could have happened; what if some Death Eaters had found him? What if something terrible had happened to him?

No, stop it. You can’t keep thinking like this. He’s probably just been busy, I chided myself, but what if he hasn’t written because he didn’t want to talk to me. What if he’s realized that he doesn’t want to be with me.

Worries flooded my head, but I could not bring myself to believe them. Remembering our conversation in the hold room at Grimmauld Place, I could not believe that he would just leave me with no explanation. He would not cut off all communication without a valid cause. I just hoped he was alright.  

Charlie had, however, taught the spell, the one that allowed me to hear his voice in my head when reading letters, to every member of the order so that I no longer had to depend on others to read them to me. This was probably for the best, considering that anyone could hear what was being read aloud to me. This gave me the freedom to read, rather, listen to, the letters on my own time, instead of having to wait until Fred, George, Hermione, Ron, or Harry had time.

Pushing those thoughts out of my mind for now, I decided to focus my attention on choosing an outfit for tomorrow. Molly had helped me pack outfits in groups, putting clothing that would go together in a pile. This made it significantly easier for me to decide what to wear. Upon Umbridge’s instance, we teachers had been given the option of wearing “normal” clothes to Hogsmeade. I suppose that stemmed from her disdain for the dark colors of the robes. She seemed to prefer pink, from what I had heard, wearing pencil skirts and blazers, both bright hues of pink, and lots of frills.

Rummaging through my trunk, I found an outfit that Mrs. Weasley had said would look “stunning” on me. She had mentioned that she was putting it towards the top, describing it to me so that I would know what materials to feel for. It was a pair of dark-wash jeans, a white lace tank-top that was flowy, but still showed my shape, a brown blazer, a simple gold necklace, and a pair of heels, which I believed that Mrs. Weasley had said were red. I was excited, in all honestly. I had lost so much weight that I could now wear clothes that I would never have even considered before this year.

I knew that I had no one to impress by wearing nice clothes, but that did not matter to me. I just wanted to feel pretty, for once. It was hard to feel pretty working as a Professor, especially when I was teaching Care of Magical Creatures. I had little time to put effort into my outfits, which were really simple, consisting of robes and a cloak when the weather became colder. It was simple and plain, but most of the time I did not mind. I don’t know what came over me, but I just suddenly had the urge to dress nicely, at least for a day, as if to prove to Umbridge that I was not a complete failure, which I am sure she believed I was.

Having spoken to Dumbledore, I found that I could also modify the spell he had told Charlie about so that I could hear essays and books in my mind. This made my life a lot easier, and I certainly felt better about being able to help Wilhelmina with grading papers. Though I was certain that there was a spell that would grade papers for me, I preferred to have a part in grading it so that if a student asked why points were deducted, I would be able to give them a real explanation, as opposed to just telling them that their answer was wrong. Either way, it was good to feel that I was accomplishing work here.

Muttering the spell, I sat down at my desk, taking out a stack of papers from my bag. I had about twenty essays on the proper way to handle a bowtruckle that needed to be graded for Monday’s classes. I could have left them for Sunday night, but I preferred to have them out of the way now.