wandmaker | charlie weasley

20

"So," he replied simply, not giving her an answer, as per usual.

"You're not leaning towards any particular option?" she pressed, wondering if she was pushing her luck by pestering him about it. He just seemed so stressed about it! In her mind, if he made the decision now, he could have some time to cope with his choice before he left, or begin to get settled in more if he chose to stay.

"Ellie," he groaned, looking up at the sky and stopping. She looked up at him, stopping as well and pulling him by the hand to the side of the Alley, out of the way of any passerby. She tossed her empty mug and he did the same.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to be pushy," she said.

His bright eyes gleamed when he finally looked down at her, and there was a spark of something, maybe curiosity. "Would you like me to stay?"

"I... What?" she spluttered, trying to process the question. Why would he ask her that? While they had only known each other for a brief period of time, somehow bonding over simultaneous mourning and spending so much time together had caused them to be fast friends. Even if she wasn't hoping for something more to come of their friendship, she had really come to appreciate his constant presence, and she would surely miss him if he left.

She couldn't admit that, of course. Not when she'd been so obvious about her crush in every other aspect of their relationship.

"That is not up to me!"

He smiled, and for once, she had a hard time seeing his kind smile as anything but condescending. "I didn't ask you to decide for me, I asked if you'd like me to stay in England."

Eloise found herself growing irritable about the question, and even the way he had phrased it. For a while now, she had begun to think that he knew how she felt about him. Something about the way he worded the question felt like he was mocking her, and she did not, under any circumstances, want to feel small because of Charlie Weasley.

She'd been picked on a lot over the years, mostly in school, but what they don't tell you when you're a child is that bullies don't stop being bullies when they come of age. They just find new ways to make you feel less than them. Like overcharging for a wand core, or ignoring pleading letters about material sourcing, or demanding to speak to a professional wandmaker when you don't get matched with the wand you wanted. The thing about it was, people don't always mean to be rude. However, having an introverted, non-confrontational personality tends to make people view you as their doormat. She didn't think he meant to, really. But she felt belittled.

"Why would you ask me that, Charlie?" she asked defensively. "You're my friend, my best friend, to be quite frank with you. Wouldn't you be surprised if I wanted you to leave?"

His brow furrowed once he sensed the bite in her question. He clearly hadn't meant to offend, but at that point, she was already upset. And at that, she grew somehow more annoyed. Charlie was too perfect. He'd never purposely anger her, and yet, here she was picking a fight.

"I didn't mean it that way, I was just asking for your opinion," he backtracked, but it was too late. Weeks of pent up feelings were finally being released, and Eloise was having trouble controlling the floodgates.

She took a step back as he reached for her, saying, "You've asked for my opinion before, and yet you've also told me that you don't want to be pressured. Do you even want me to be honest, Charlie?"

"I'm confused, Eloise!" he said, exasperated. She watched as he ran a hand through his signature Weasley locks, and huffed that it still affected her the way that it did in the midst of a disagreement. "Not sure if you realized, but I've spent the past few years of my life much differently than I'm living currently, and there's been kind of a lot going on!" He didn't raise his voice, but it wasn't the gentle tone she was used to.

Eloise herself, was growing rather shrill. "I know, you've mentioned. And you've had months to think about this! Most people don't even have the time frame to consider the job offer like you do, and all you're doing with this time is stewing and refusing to talk to anyone properly about it!"

"I spoke with Bill," he defended himself, taking a deep breath and seeming to collect himself. Thank Merlin, because she was on the brink of hysteria.

"I know, and here you are, over a month later!"

He folded his arms, and she felt more closed off from him than when he had ignored her letters for weeks. "That's not fair, Eloise."

"What's not fair is you asking me if I want you to stay! Especially if you're just going to do what you want anyway, completely disregarding my feelings and opinions?" After a moment of observing her, she saw his expression shift, and he leaned in, his face a few inches from her own.

"Do you want me to consider your feelings and opinions?" he asked with a smirk, and that's when she realized he knew. He knew and he was going to hold it over her head, and make her look like a lovesick child for caring if he stayed or went. How he had found humor in this situation, she wasn't sure, because she sure as hell wasn't.

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear forcefully before poking him in the chest, saying, "That is the very least of your responsibilities as my friend, Charlie Weasley. She knew what he was trying to do, and she was not having it. Practically seething at this point, she continued, "I don't care what you think you're getting at, but I will not have you toying with my feelings regarding this matter. Stay, go, whatever. Just make up your damned mind, and tell your mother, for Merlin's sake."

With one final jab to his chest, she spun around and stormed away, back in the direction of Ollivander's. He didn't call after her.

As soon as she had taken a step away, her wall of anger came crashing down and she could see the mess she'd wrought, but she knew at that moment, there would be no fixing what she'd done. Even if she could recognize that she'd overreacted, or at least reacted somewhat inappropriately considering each of their positions, she was hurt, and frustrated.

When she reached her shop, she wrenched the door open and stomped inside, slamming it shut behind her and casting a locking charm over her shoulder with a backwards wave. Once in the sanctity of her study, she allowed herself an anguished shout, and she kicked the chair as she swept by it. The toppling chair caught the edge of a book on her desk, sending a tall stack toppling to the floor, along with a bunch of loose parchment and an open bottle of ink.

She stopped, taking a deep breath and looking up to observe the mess she'd just made.

Damn it. Now she had two messes to clean up.