chapter vi the grey stallion
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THE RAVENCLAW COMMON ROOM WAS A HYPERACTIVE BURROW OF ENERGY. Even in the early hours of the day, Ravenclaw students can be seen bustling around eagerly for the following day to approach them. Whether they are hurriedly scrawling unkempt sentences along the ruffled parchment of an essay they'd left too late in advance to it's due date, or whether the topic of a strange beyond comparison dream had the need to be discussed, the Ravenclaw students engage with each other well at any time of day.
In a time zone between breakfast and her first class's commencement, Avery Carmichael can be seen laying on her frontside in her old bed up in the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory. Where there was once a green-and-white Celtic scarf pinned up onto the wall space next to her bed and pictures of Avery and her family, the McKinnie farm (most especially their marble grey horse George) and discarded letters from her family, along with a fine collection of disorganised books and trinkets littering the desk, top of her trunk and beneath the four poster bed, there now laid an empty space. No pictures, no Celtic merchandise, no books and certainly no pictures were seen in the space Avery occupied for the last six years she'd spent in Hogwarts. Just a blank wall, notice board, desk, and the same bed, outlined in mahogany wood and decorated and blue and bronze bedsheets.
If you saw Avery at the outset of the school year, at the beginning of her new lifestyle as Head Girl, you would see a girl who could hardly stand to be in the room she'd welcomed so easily previously. You would see a girl who wished so hard for her life to not change so much in one year — you would see a girl terrified of the effects a little difference could make.
Now, perhaps, you might still see that same Avery. The one who misses all those nights spent up in the Ravenclaw dormitories, with Dominique, Rowan, Juliet, Hannah. All the nights spent staying up late past curfew and telling each other embarrassing stories about guys, and girls — Juliet was currently involving herself on an unbeknownst Hufflepuff in their year, from what she allowed herself to tell them. All the nights talking about the exhaustive stories about drama within families. Hannah was best for this — her mum had three sisters and four brothers, so, an endless amount of drama about family barbecues where one sister wouldn't show up because of petty entitlement issues. And not to mention, all the nights of cutesy comfort, laughter and friendship splayed across duvets and pillows dragged down onto the ground (because it was more homely).
You might still see the Avery, the one holding a grudge about an appointment she had no control over — something she didn't want. But that was then. Now, you could also see a side to Avery that she perhaps wasn't fond of verbally confronting. There was a new side inhabiting the persona of Avery, in all her five-foot-six glory, one that is allowing her to see that maybe, this change wasn't so bad. Or was a side willing to welcome this change.
But you'd never see Avery openly admit that this change came out positively. For all you'd think, Avery was as begrudging as a bear being brought out of hibernation early. Her stubborn attribute was blatantly obvious to everyone when it was quite clear to see that, as stressful as it could be sometimes, Avery enjoyed being the Head Girl.
Avery is near-oblivious to the quiet pecks of chatter surrounding her in her old dorm as she allows her fingers to delicately trace over the picture in her hands, the remainder of a rustic beige envelope overlapping underneath. The picture — one sent by her beloved Uncle Douglas — blanketed her heart with warmth and trickled a gentle smile up onto her rosy lips. The baby was called Abigail — after her grandmother — and from what the letter attached within the envelope had depicted, she'd just reached over five months old. The resemblance was unmistakable — Jenna had the dark onyx eyes of her father's and delicate wisps of blonde hair like her mother, Laurel, and whose petite smile basked in mirth, as seen in the picture, held equally between the arms of the new parents, bouncing within the moving picture frames.
Douglas Carmichael was, to put it fairly, a man of immense bloom. Douglas was the youngest of two children to Ross and Abbie Carmichael (wizard and Muggle respectively) and the younger brother to Valerie Carmichael, two years age difference between the two. Douglas attended Hogwarts a Ravenclaw, THR same as his sister, excelling in Potions and Arithmancy. Much like his older sister, Douglas was a fan of football and attended Celtic games with his parents and sister, though he was admittedly a bigger quidditch fan. He played as a chaser for the Ravenclaw quidditch team, captaining it in his sixth and seventh year, his thin frame and agile reflexes allowing him to be a quick and undetectably remarkable player. (He still has the same thin stature to this day — no amount of increased butter in Abigail Carmichael's cooking was able to help Douglas gain a firm bit of weight.)
When Douglas left Hogwarts, he was... lost in himself, to say the least. All around him, his friends seemed to have it all sorted out — and people thought Douglas had it sorted out too — getting themselves into internships, part-time studying, travelling; Douglas wasn't the same. People said he should follow a quidditch path and truly become something. They said he had potential. A prospect. And Douglas knew it too — he knew he could become a firm quidditch player. But it just wasn't what he wanted. He was a man of severe intellect, a man whose time was better spent among literature and knowledge — but nobody else seemed to see that. Perhaps Douglas couldn't see it himself, either.
This apparent 'loss of identity' and forcing himself to be what everyone else wanted to see led him into a bad place for many years. The year Valerie Carmichael married Oliver Hearst, Douglas dropped out of a scholarship with Pride of Portree quidditch team when he realised that he just didn't... belong there. He felt out of sorts anywhere he went — to his got-it-all-sorted-out friends right up to his own sister, who was never condescending in any way whatsoever, but just overwhelmed him with her increasing successes in life. It was only when the death of his four-year girlfriend died from generational leukaemia, that Douglas Carmichael was truly driven off the edge.
Douglas was always close to Valerie. Despite their personality differences, they were always on an even footing with each other and Douglas was grateful to have someone support him like Valerie did. But it wasn't enough. Even with Valerie's support, and her reassurances that he could find his place again, Douglas didn't know how to cope. He pushed Valerie, his parents away. He turned to drugs, alcohol no longer filling the void he'd occupied it with for so long before.
And so, he fell off the pedestal. He'd drawn himself into a new world consumed by addiction, remorse and detachment. Douglas became the train wreck he never wanted to be. Nearly two years passed, two years of no contact with his family, his friends, and he had barely witnessed the birth of his nephew by the name of Jeremiah Chalmers Carmichael — Chalmers, after Stevie Chalmers, one of the best strikers Celtic FC had ever seen. (A court favourite of Valerie's — Douglas remembers the glee upon Valerie's face whenever Chalmers scored within the homely nets of Parkhead Stadium.) Then Avery Cesar Carmichael was brought into the world, and Douglas recognised that he needed to fix something inside of him.
He was broken inside. He spiralled. He fell off of the pedestal. But when one falls off the pedestal, they must find a way back up to that point again.
One night, Douglas was sat, slumped like a lopsided, damaged piano upon his dust-infested greying sofa. Ashtrays with the remainder of charred cigarettes and smoked joints, round-rimmed glass bottles kicking around wooden table legs. A putrid stench of damp upholstery, denied by many offset, delayed bills, surrounded the man, whose face grew thinner and more gaunt over the years from the lack of improper lifestyle and isolation. Sleep-ridden pupils contracted beneath eyelids too weighed down to open. Hazardous wires, ajar microwave doors, a wand void of use for uncountable years, and a man unaware of how fucked up he let his life get.
He opened his eyes.
What initially met those carob irises, were the turned paper corners of a heartfelt letter. A heartbreaking letter. All around him were people, passing like silhouettes in the dark, but none kept in touch with him like Valerie did. Douglas only wished he could do the same. Replies to her letters were unseen of to Valerie Carmichael. She sent the letters, he didn't reply. She didn't know the reason was that her brother suspected that the very person she once knew was no longer present. The picture within the letter depicted a boy of mousy brown hair, no older than four years old, giggling helplessly from the small bundle of newborn fragility wobbling in his arms, the adoring faces of both his parents supporting him on either sides. God, he could see so much of Valerie in Jeremiah. Though he'd inherited the same tresses his father Oliver wore, his eyes mimicked the exact onyx trails of his older sisters'. Of his. He could see the raised tufts of rosy-chestnut hair sprouting from Avery's lacking head, the blank expression in her premature face — like she had no idea of the unstable hold she would've been under had her parents not assisted Jeremiah — and Douglas knew right away that she would uphold the best of Valerie. His sister. The one who'd never gave up on him, the one who'd never stopped trying, even if Douglas had.
In the bloodshot, disengaged eyes of Douglas Carmichael, he saw two children who were the best of both their parents. Two children who would grow up with so much love no matter what the circumstance, two innocent children who didn't know much about the ferocity of the world they lived in. And Douglas wanted to be apart of that. Seeing the uncanny glint, the unmistakable resemblances in both of their eyes were enough to get Douglas to open his.
And Douglas realised that he needed to mend whatever had been broken inside of him.
The first thing he did was stumble loosely off of the couch he inextricably moulded himself into, and with just enough focus, Apparated himself into the newly-rented apartment of the Hearst-Carmichael family in London, which he'd seen briefly when the letter arrived. He near enough dropped into an unsuspecting Valerie's arms, who'd adjusted rapidly and held him strongly at his sudden arrival into her new home, still apt with open paint cans and debris from walls recently demolished. Valerie always supported her brother regardless of the circumstance, and now wouldn't be any different — whether or not a firm stench of alcohol, cigarettes and cannabis reverberated through her sinuses. Valerie had hope for her brother once; she hadn't lost it since.
Douglas was a wreck. That was what Valerie could see. She saw a man so ridden with isolation, detachment and pity, and knew she had to get her brother back. Her then-husband Oliver saw the same thing too.
And so, Valerie and Oliver got Douglas aid. Helped him get over his addiction — build a new life for himself. One where he wouldn't allow himself to be alone, and would find some peace. Some hope. This included Douglas' self-plea to see Jeremiah or Avery. When he saw himself, he saw a man devoid of response, of life, and he knew that wasn't what the kids should see, he knew their precious eyes should be protected. And he told himself that until he became a reformed man, until he'd turned his life around, that he'd allow himself to enter the lives of his beloved niece and nephew. He wanted to be the uncle that they deserved — one that was there for him, one that they should be proud of.
It's easy for Douglas to admit that he owes his life to his big sister. She, quite literally, saved his life by taking him to get help and getting rid of his addictions. Of his dependencies. By helping him find a new passion, a new life. He began writing more. Books — fiction, non-fiction. Wizard, Muggle. Anything and everything that was cooped up inside that cluttered mind of his. And he was ruddy good at it, too. Nearly eight years later; Jeremiah is 12, Avery is 8, and Douglas is participating full-time in their lives along with owning his own bookstore. Douglas quite literally turned his life around — he became a healthy man, void of drugs and of coping mechanisms, he became successful, and he became an uncle that Jeremiah and Avery Carmichael we're proud of. He was reliant for his sister when Oliver Hearst was no longer in the lives of Valerie and her two children, because it's what he owed her. She saved him — he had to be there for her.
Douglas had only thought his redemption came in the form of Valerie — she was the key to him plucking his life back together, reconnecting with their parents, and meeting Jeremiah. But that wasn't all.
Laurel Cameron sauntered her way into his life, and Douglas was found welcoming himself into a new opportunity. One of love. A matter of the heart that was so unfamiliar to him in this long while. One that he hadn't felt in a long while, not since his girlfriend passed away nearly two years after his graduation from Hogwarts. Laurel was the epitome of everything gentle and sublime within his life. She was beautiful, she was kind, she was charismatic, from the effervescently harmonious chorus of her voice to the soft, platinum tresses of hair he adored. And with this new opportunity, came an even bigger chance at redemption — the arrival of baby Abigail Carmichael.
It had never even occurred to Douglas that he would even be able to father a child in his lifetime, let alone at age 37. He thought the closest he would to such an affair was his relationship with his sister's children, but apparently, the universe had other plans for Douglas Carmichael. And he wouldn't dare pass up the chance to make this world the best possible for his baby Abbie. In the years that lead up to Douglas becoming a father, he's seen many things — the rise of dark wizards, the fall of them too, and poor children like Harry Potter, who'd had his parents taken from him, like many other families. Douglas sword to never leave his child. He would do what was necessary to protect his baby, at any cost. He would be the dad she deserved. The husband Laurel deserved, too.
Douglas was able to turn his life around, and it's why Avery is so proud to have a cousin like Abigail. Because even after all the hardships, Douglas managed to make his way through.
"Oh my god, Aves!" Dominique squeals, drawing Avery out of her reminisce of her new baby cousin. "Let's see the picture!"
Avery clambers off of her bed with a lingering grin and lays on her stomach next to Dominique on her bed. The other two currently present in the room, Rowan and Hannah, bend around them both, squinting into the picture placed held between Avery's fingers.
"She's so cute!" Dominique gushes.
"She looks just like Jeremiah," says Rowan.
"She does," says Hannah.
Dominique narrows her eyes up at Hannah.
"You're only saying that because you fancy the backside off that guy."
"No, I don't!" Hannah retaliates, furrowing her eyebrows furiously. It still wasn't enough to shake the look of sheer disgust on Avery's face, and it didn't go unnoticed by Hannah. "I don't fancy Jeremiah!"
"Hannah, you disgust me," says Avery.
"It's not like we can blame her," says Rowan, "Jem is pretty fit. But he has a girlfriend."
Avery scoffs. "I know he has a girlfriend? And not to mention he's four years older than you guys? And more importantly, he's my brother?"
"Okay, it's not like I was even planning on getting with him?" Hannah reasons. "And anyways, his star chart says that his girlfriend will propose to him within the next two years." Hannah sighs, "I have no chance."
"You've never had a chance," Rowan sniggers.
"His girlfriend will propose?" Dominique questions, an eyebrow upturned.
"That does not surprise me," Avery says, a throaty chuckle escaping her mouth. "Alice by far wears the pants in that relationship." She recounts what Hannah said, and looks at her friend with squinted eyes. "You made Jeremiah a star chart?"
"Yeah?" Hannah answers, seemingly finding nothing wrong with the allegation. "I've made everyone a star chart! All of you guys, Jem, Val, Row's parents, Juliet's four older brothers and her stepdad, and Dominique's family too! That reminds me!" Hannah exclaims, her finger shooting remarkably into the air, "I need to make star charts for Abbie, and Douglas, and Laurel!"
"How would you make a star chart when you know next to nothing about them?"
Hannah smirks, a mischievous glint in her charcoal eyes. "I don't — but you do."
"Oh, great," says Avery.
Her eyes are drawn to a new interruption at the swinging of the dormitory door, and in stumbles Juliet Rhodes carrying — and it's smell was unmistakably heavenly — a plate of cookies. Freshly baked, if the smell gave it any credit. "Juliet's here!"
"And I come bearing goods!" She exclaims gleefully, holding the plate in front of Dominique's bed as they all plucked a cookie from the plate. (Even Rowan, who decides not to abide by her strict quidditch dieting regime for a moment.)
"Where did you even get these from?" Dominique asks, her mouth mumbling after biting a large chunk of cookie. "Breakfast hadn't even finished yet?"
"The kitchens," says Juliet. "Well, someone gave it to me. But they were from the kitchens."
The other four girls didn't fail to notice the blush creeping up Juliet's tan skin at the decrypted mention of whoever got them the cookies.
"Someone?" Dominique grins, peeking a curious eyebrow up at Juliet.
"Yes, someone," says Juliet.
Avery smirks. "Does this happen to be that Hufflepuff you're madly in love with?"
"Perhaps."
"Oh, Rowena's most ravished ring, you need to tell us who she is!" Hannah pleads, bounding up and down on Dominique's side of the bed, who threw her a lighthearted look of loathing.
"Not... yet," says Juliet, seating herself on the floor and crossing her legs together. "But I will tell you guys, obviously."
Hannah sighs, sinking down into her posture. "With that being said, I saw something on your brother's star chart—"
"You made my brother a star chart?"
"Yes. Rowena, I've already had this conversation. Anyways, the oldest, Elijah—"
"It's Nathan." Juliet corrects. "Nathan is the oldest. Elijah is second-oldest."
"Okay, well, Nathaniel—"
"I said Nathan—
"Fine," says Hannah with a light huff, "Nathan — his star chart says that he's apparently due to having a threesome next month—"
Dominique chokes on her cookie. Avery stifles a snigger in her hand. Rowan's eyes explode open. Juliet looks absolutely horrified. While Hannah herself has erupted into a fit of raucous giggles, rolling around the floor.
"What the fuck?" Juliet says. "Hannah! Why on earth would you say that?"
"He's —he's your bro—brother!" Hannah says, struggling to voice her reasoning amidst her laughing fit.
"That's exactly why you shouldn't tell me!" Juliet yells, "I don't want to hear about my brother's sex life! Any of them!" Juliet's eyes waver over the squirming figure of Hannah, her head shaking with the sheer absurdity of Hannah's behaviour and also the revelation itself. "Hannah!"
Hannah picks herself off of the ground, wiping away tears excreted from laughter and glimpsing the look on her friends' faces. There was no doubt Juliet would be scarred for life at the sudden revelation of her oldest brother.
"I swear on Rowena's lost diadem, Hannah—" Before Hannah is able to continue, Juliet has snatched a pillow from a nearby bed and began rampaging after her, and the door to the dormitory opened and shut in a flurry of flailing dark hair and trampling legs.
"Well then," says Avery. She bites on her lip in an attempt to not laugh, "Who knew star charts could predict threesomes?"
———
THE GOLDEN SUNLIGHT SPILLED IN AN ARRAY OF glistening specks through the windows of Professor Rakepick's Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Today was one of the few lessons in which the fox-haired Defence teacher had arrived late, but around fifteen minutes into the lesson she'd made her appearance, her lavish red hair voluminous in depth, bright-eyed and with an expression of firm restlessness within her charming, frisky face. She holds a mug in hand, flipping her firmly-knitted shawl over her shoulder and glanced over her students' faces, who stare up at their latecomer teacher with restless patience from their paired wooden desks.
"Sorry for the late start, all," Rakepick croons lowly, fumbling around her cluttered desk for her wand.
"That damned poltergeist hid my coffee from me. Today we'll be practicing something we haven't covered in a long while. Patronus charms," says Professor Rakepick in a somewhat monotonous voice. "Up you get! Find a space and start practicing the incantation. If you've forgotten, ask someone else."
Professor Rakepick's wand sent the tables and chairs flying to the edges of the classroom all within the capacity of a thin swipe, and the next half hour saw all of the seventh year N.E.W.T Defence students casting their wands in a spiral-like flounce, some producing evanescent, somatic semblances of corporeal creatures, others casting a mere, unformed blanket of luminous light. Either way, the dreamy, phosphorous blue light cast a glittering glow against the otherwise naturally-lit classroom.
"Take a look at this, everyone!" Professor Rakepicks's astounded voice carried through her classroom, attracting the wandering attention of her occupied students. They followed her eyes to see just what exactly had shocked her so immensely, and saw exactly that: in a near-secluded corner of the classroom, an ethereal, flawlessly materialised serpentine creature, whose length reached the topmost height to the arched ceiling, with it's blinding sheen white body, reminiscing in the sapphire glow radiating around it. It was a dragon — as big as can be, given the circumstance of the restrictive classroom ceilings, but still was big, standing sedentarily on it's structure, it's arched tail fluttering long behind him, it's scales sticking up sharply along itself. Everyone gaped at the sight of the remarkable Patronus, and even more so, the caster, smiling bashfully from all this sudden attention. Charlie Weasley used his free hand — the one that wasn't holding onto the wand and it's masterpiece — to unnecessarily smooth his hair down. "Excellent work, Weasley!"
Moving away from Charlie and his likeable dragon companion, Rakepick scoured the classroom for the next Patronus caster, settling on Juliet's figure.
"You next, Rhodes!"
Juliet abides, casting the spell so that a hyperactive, shining fox spilled out of her wand, prancing rapidly around her mischievously grinning figure.
"Carmichael, you're up!"
Avery, who'd up until then been watching both Charlie's and Juliet's Patronuses with such fascination, jumped when Rakepick called her on.
"Oh, uh — sure," says Avery.
Until now, Avery had never been able to produce a full, corporeal patronus. The furthest she'd be able to conjure was a small, misshaped form — too uneven for her to fully distinguish a proper creature from. She hoped that now would be her lucky moment — for the sake of her own curiosity and Rakepick's scrutinising eyes. She adjusts her stance, holding out her wand muttering a brief "Expecto patronum", with a firm positive memory in mind. She remembers it as being one of the most mundane possible things to ever happen, pretty much a daily occurrence whenever she was back home, but it was still produced some of the most happiness Avery would ever feel. Simply enough, it was one of the many family dinners held in the Carmichael residence, with everyone seated around the oak-strung table over a hearty, pleasant dinner. Avery, Valerie, Jeremiah, along with Douglas and Laurel. And the thought that baby Abbie would be able to join them next time just heightened the blissfulness of the memory. Because what'd made that memory so intoxicated with mirth, with glee, was the idea of unity and being with her family. Being with people she loved — her family, her friends. There wouldn't ever be a time where Avery would grow ungrateful with her most appreciated — she cherished them more than she'd cherish any prized belonging, more than any Magizoology qualification. They were, as the story foretold, priceless.
The dreamy, reminiscent white sheen spilled out of the wand held meticulously in Avery's grasp, and a pleasuring laugh escaped her mouth as the light formed itself into a glistening, tall steed, galloping gently around the room, leaving a glittering trail of dissipating white smoke behind it.
A horse.
First and foremost, what springs to mind for Avery is George. The grey stallion held accountable in the stables at the McKinnie's farm in Thankerton. In other words, the horse she'd grown most attached to.
As Professor Kettleburn moves onto the next student, Avery grins in response to her friends' awes of admiration for her horse, but she picks out a small detail in one of the ends of the classroom. Charlie Weasley, smiling gently in her direction as he witnesses Avery's Patronus begin to vanish. She smiles back.
———
WHEN CURFEW STRIKES, AND WHEN MOST OF THE CASTLE IS SNUGGLED UP IN THE WARMTH OF THEIR BEDS, Avery is strapping the Velcro on her polished black shoes and clasping the button on her Ravenclaw robe. Perhaps part of her is envious of the people able to find solitude deep within the cascades of their duvet while she's obliged with carrying out her Rounds, but part of her finds that maybe, this is just the kind of solitude she needs. A tranquil walk in the restful and giving dark of the castle corridors.
Accompanied by none other than her fellow Head, Charlie, of course.
But Avery doesn't think she minds anymore. Charlie is... growing on her. He's been kind, and he's been patient, and it's taken time, but Avery isn't bequeathing past these niceties anymore. She found him sitting on the sofa in the living area, arms trailing against the back of the leather material, with only the back of his unruly head of hair and the peek of his white shirt collar visible. He turns around, the smallest of smiles visible at seeing Avery approaching him.
"You ready to go?" She asks.
"Yeah," says Charlie, picking up his Gryffindor robe draped around the back of the sofa, hastily doing the buttons at the top. He smiles. "Let's go."
Charlie follows Avery through the small and dark hollowed passageway, until they can hear the portrait click shut behind them with Sir Cadogan's sword slashes being imminently heard clashing against the wall within his portrait. The two walk through the timid, near-black castle in a comfortable silence, the only provided light being that of their wands after a small lumos being muttered, their free hands swinging slowly by their sides.
"So, erm—" says Charlie. Avery tilts her head curiously to face him, and Charlie begins to take notice of how her sunkissed hair has lost its natural rosy glow, being buried in the near-blinding white light springing from the tip of her wand. He sends her a short smile. "Your Patronus? It was a horse, right?"
Avery lets out a small exhale, nodding her head genially. "Yeah. I — er — where I live, in the Scottish countryside, there's a farm a few miles away from our house. We're quite good friends with the owners, and they have this horse called George who I've grown fond of riding, so I suppose that's why it turned out to be a horse."
"Nice," Charlie grins, "Have you ever been able to produce a patronus before? You looked pretty overjoyed when it happened."
"No, actually," says Avery. "Or not properly, at least. Today was my lucky day, I guess." She smiles at him through the dim hold of light in between them, the remains of whatever light was being shone in their path ahead, remembering the majestic, sheer size of his dragon-shaped patronus earlier on. "Your dragon was quite remarkable, though."
Charlie chuckles. "Thanks. It's never been as big as that, so I was pretty shocked just like everyone else."
The matter conjures a thought in Avery's mind. Or rather, a question. For Charlie.
"What — er — what are you going to do, when you leave Hogwarts? Something to do with dragons, I suppose?" She asks him. It was usually Charlie who asked the questions, not Avery. But she figures this is part of taking the leap. There was a tone of hesitancy present which Charlie could recognise — it nonetheless elated him to see Avery open to making some kind of effort at opening up.
Charlie grins softly. "Yes, actually. I'll be going to Romania to study Dragonology. You?"
"Something similar to that," says Avery. "I'm studying Magizoology at an institute in Norway."
"Oh?" Charlie says, a curious widening of his eye. "I mean — I know you take N.E.W.T Care of Magical Creatures, but I didn't take you to be much of a, well, an animal person?"
Avery smiles. "I wouldn't expect you to know this much about me just yet, Charlie."
(The fact Avery had said yet, made an unaware smile crawl onto Charlie's face. He didn't know yet was even on the cards for them.)
Avery continues: "But I guess I've always had a soft spot for animals and other creatures. Since I grew up near a farm, I've seen and dealt with many different creatures. Some, people seem to like, and others not so much. But I find it unfair that people treat some animals differently just because they aren't the same as the ones most people most idolise. They all deserve to be treated equally, regardless if one has something different to the other. So, I want to... make a difference. A real difference. Have my own magical creature enclosure one day, and help those many people won't," She pauses, throwing a fleeting smile Charlie's way, "You seem to think the same. Not many people are willing to work with dragons as enthusiastically as you seem to be about them. It's inspiring."
"Not as inspiring as what you just said," says Charlie. He smiles. "Thanks. And you too... good on you. We... need more people like you."
"I can only say the same for you, Charlie."
The corners of Avery's mouth stretch into an vivacious smile, though hardly seen from the lack of lighting visible in their uneventful patrol. But it dawns on Avery that it wasn't inopportune in the slightest. Something did happen. Something special. Because she realises that Charlie Weasley, with his illuminated red hair in the dim incandescence, was a complexity in his entirety. And though Avery usually shuts herself off from any sort of unfamiliar and elaborate being, Avery is realising that she's slowly growing used to that in Charlie's, and that perhaps, she wasn't minding it so much. He was growing on Avery. Slowly and more quicker, the mere presence of his enthusiastic spirit didn't irk her any longer.
Avery finds it remarkable; she finds him remarkable — how a boy like him was filled with so much compassion, so much empathy, and was so willing to take his chances for other people. How he gave Avery another chance. How he was so determined, and how he wouldn't give up on Avery. They were the simplest of traits displayed in the most impenetrable of a person that Avery has ever encountered.
"Charlie?" Avery says.
"Hmm?" Charlie hums in return, turning his head so that he could be acquainted with her slightly smaller figure.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
Avery lets out a deep sigh, her mouth stretching into a sanguine smile. "For giving me another chance."
***
BABIES!! :') idk if you guys like this or if i'm acc making this slowburn seen genuine enough bc this is the first time i've ever written a slowburn relationship ahhh whoops LMAO but like even if it ain't the most perfect i hope you enjoyed it cos i enjoy writing it!!! and avery's character development is highkey difficult but like,,, i hope you guys like it??? she's unlike any character i've ever written before but she's my baby don't hate her <333
and we also got the first mention of avery's dad (oliver) in here!!! there will be a LOT where that came from don't u worry hehe i know you guys will have been asking questions about why it's just her, jem and val!! but all shall be revealed in time :')
&& uncle douglas too!!! there'll be more of him and his wife laurel too,, and im tryna decide the face claim for douglas i'm thinking richard madden or colin o'donoghue??? like i need help with his fc lmao so if you guys have any suggestions pls help. i think i'm casting candice king as laurel like that's perf for me :')
i really really hoped you guys liked this chapter!!! ty for supporting me it makes me so so so happy 💓💓💓
also next chapter...🙊😼😉😻