Fic: “The Post-Honeymooners,” BtVS/HP, Xander/Charlie Weasley, NC-17
NOTE: THIS FIC HAS BEEN NOMMED OVER AT THE SUNNYDAWARRDS SITE.
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The Post-Honeymooners
Author:
_beetle_
Fandom: BtVS/Harry Potter
Pairing: Xander Harris/Charlie Weasley
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: Approx. 4000
Notes/Warnings: Set post-Chosen by ten years, and post DH/e by ten years. Spoilers for BtVS “Chosen” and DH/e. Previous stories in the Impressions-verse can be found here.
Disclaimer: Who owns nothing? I own nothing!
Summary: Xander and Charlie have sex. Xander and Ginny finally meet. Harry and Ginny have problems. Xander and Charlie have sex.
Xander awakens on the final day of their honeymoon much the same way he's awakened on the other days: On his stomach, Charlie kissing his way down Xander's back, then holding his cheeks apart to run his tongue down to Xander's sore, sensitized hole.
He laves it with his tongue, flicking it teasingly in, but not quite penetrating Xander. At least not until Xander's moaning and squirming on the bed, swearing and panting, beging for more, please, Charlie, more. . . .
And, as always, Charlie gives him more-or is about to, when there's a knock at the door.
“GO. AWAY!” Xander calls hoarsely as Charlie's agile, oh, so, naughty tongue wiggles its way inside him. “OH, GOD, GO AWAY!”
“Em . . . sorry. But it's check-out time, and I need to get in to clean the room for the next guests,” a muffled, slightly hesitant voice says.
This time, Charlie's the one to moan, and he withdraws his tongue with a final lascivious slurp then crawls up Xander's body and the bed to whisper in his ear:
“We'll pick up where we left off later, alright?”
“So not alright . . . but I guess we don't have a choice,” Xander grouses, and Charlie nuzzles his ear.
“Not unless we want Rosemerta up here. She has a key to all the rooms and she's not shy about using it.”
Xander shudders. “Alright, alright, I get the point. Well, I was going to get the point, until we were so rudely interrupted.” He snorts, reaching behind him and between them for Charlie's cock. It's gratifyingly hard, and Xander sighs.
“Don't worry, Xand, I promise you, it'll keep,” Charlie says, laughing and groaning as Xander strokes him off. “Or maybe it won't-fuck, if you don't stop, I'm gonna come just from this.”
“Kinda the idea, hon. Uh, give us five minutes, please! We need to, uh, get dressed!” Xander calls to the waiting maid at the door, still running his thumb across the glans of Charlie's cock and hissing when Charlie insinuates his hands between him and the bed, and pulls Xander up to his knees.
Then his hand is on Xander's cock, rough and tight and fast. . . .
Five minutes and thirty-seven breathless seconds later, they open the door to the room-scourgified, clothes on mostly straight, faces flushed-and apologize to the maid, who looks both harried and horrified.
Then they're making their way down to the common room and the floo.
At least, Xander thinks guiltily as Charlie kisses Rosemerta on the cheek, then scoops Xander up in his arms. We left a really good tip.
Then they're in the floo, and on their way to the Burrow.
*
Charlie and Xander step out of the floo-Xander carried safely in Charlie's arms-and into a small-scale war-zone.
“-she's been at loose ends since graduating from Hogwarts, Gin. I think this'll be good for her,” Harry's saying to Charlie's sister, who's got that angry, mum-look on her face and her hands on her narrow hips.
“And I'm telling you, no daughter of mine is going to be a dragon-keeper!” She proclaims, her voice rising as Harry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You can't exactly stop her from doing this, if it's what she wants, Gin. She's reached the age of majority.”
“Then you stop her Harry! Or don't you even care, anymore?”
Now, Harry's glaring. “How can you say I don't care? Just because I'm not behaving like some autocratic despot-“
“It's autocratic, now, to love and worry about our children?”
“When it gets in the way of their dreams, I believe it is.”
“Oh, yes, the dream she's had for about two weeks!” Ginny rolls her eyes. “Wouldn't want to stand in the way of that!”
Harry sighs again. “Look, there's every chance that once she sees the nuts and bolts of how dragon-keeping works, she'll lose interest in it, just as she has with everything else.”
“Except that she thinks she's uniquely qualified for the job because she speaks bloody Parseltongue.” Ginny crosses her arms and turns away from Harry, only to start when she notices Charlie and Xander standing at the fireplace. Then she starts again when she gets a good looks at Xander.
Harry follows her gaze and covers his eyes for a moment, muttering something about timing.
“You're home,” he says, trying to smile. It doesn't quite work. “How was the honeymoon?
*
Lunch is an awkward affair, with the four of them sitting around Molly's kitchen table, eating sandwiches Xander and Harry hastily put together while the siblings get caught up.
And Xander can't, of course, help but notice the way Ginny Potter's eyes keep sliding over to him. He can feel her intent gaze even when his back is turned, which is most of the time, while he and Harry are sandwich-crafting.
Then, when he and Harry bring the sandwiches over to the table-Charlie looks up at Xander with a soft: “Thank you love,” and a kiss when Xander sits down-a silence falls over the two couples. Everyone takes a sandwich and busies themselves with eating it.
Ginny keeps sneaking peeks at Xander, her face growing more and more confused, and Xander, for his part, doesn't know where to look. Harry's avoiding everyone's eyes and Charlie's trying so hard to pretend everything is alright.
Finally, Xander-having barely tasted any of his sandwich, even though two-thirds of it is gone-sighs and looks at Ginny straight on, smiling lamely, daring to approach the white elephant in the room. “So . . . I look like Tom Riddle and most of the witches and wizards who've met me find that . . . disconcerting.”
“Yes. Quite,” Ginny breathes-it's a small sigh of relief-and almost smiles, herself. “The resemblance is uncanny. I can't imagine that's been . . . easy for you. I've been seeing the photos and articles in the Prophet, and well, the photos at least don't do the resemblance justice.”
Xander blushes. “Yeah, well, they're close enough to freak me out,” he mutters, and Charlie takes his hand, pulling it to his mouth for a kiss. Ginny's eyes tick between them, and she sighs once more, shaking her head.
“How did you two meet, if you don't mind me asking?”
Xander and Charlie share a glance. Then Xander shrugs and Charlie answers. “We met in a cafe in Romania five months ago. Xander had made a . . . social gaffe of sorts, and we stared talking and . . . things just went from there.”
Ginny's brow furrows. “Five months? Isn't that a little . . . soon to be getting married and having a child?”
“In most cases, I'm sure it might be. In some cases, knowing each other for a lifetime isn't long enough.” Charlie agrees, and for some reason, both Ginny and Harry blush. But Charlie squeezes Xander's hand and doesn't seem to notice. “Trust me on this, Gin: we know what we're doing. I've never met anyone like Xander in my entire life, and never will again. He's the love of my life. Of all my lives.”
“Oh, Charlie,” Xander murmurs, leaning in to kiss Charlie. Charlie, of course, happily kisses him back, tugging Xander up and over, till Xander's sitting in his lap. They laugh and kiss and hug till Harry clears his throat.
“Oh, sorry.” Xander blushes, but plants a final quick, small kiss on Charlie's lips, but not moving from Charlie's lap. “Leftover honeymoon horniness. You know how it is.”
Ginny and Harry blush again, carefully not looking at each other or at Xander and Charlie.
“Hey, speaking of the Daily Prophet,” Xander begins with a sigh of his own, “we've managed to avoid it for four blissful days and nights. Have we been featured in it at all?”
Now, at last, Harry and Ginny exchange a glance. Ginny shrugs and Harry sighs. “Accio Daily Prophet,” he says. And several issues of the newspaper come flying into the room, to land on the table in front of Harry, who sorts through them, muttering to himself. “Aha!”
He hands one of the evening editions to Xander, who takes it and unfolds it. “I see Charlie and I have made the first page, once more. Or at least our hands have,” he says wryly, tilting the paper so Charlie can see the front page photo.
Technically, there are two shots: one of Charlie's hand and one of Xander's, side by side. Both still-shots, for once, but only so, it would appear, the photo editor could highlight the rings on their fingers.
The headline is, predictably: SECRET NUPTIALS!
Charlie opens the paper to page three, where the story is continued. “'. . . seen about Hogsmeade and environs, walking hand in hand, and wearing matching wedding rings, Mr. Charles Weasley and the Tom Riddle look-a-like-whom, the Prophet can now confirm is named and has been introduced to several people this reporter has spoken to as Xander Weasley-were confirmed by many to be on their honeymoon.
“'The pair were not shy about announcing their recent nuptials to all and sundry, though one wonders why the wedding announcement wasn't simply posted in the Prophet'-she wonders why?” Charlie snorts, handing the paper back to Xander, who skims the article, which has little substance, and scans the photos of them at the few places they'd left their room to go visit: Puddifoot's, Gladrags, Dervish and Banges, and, several times, Honeyduke's.
In fact, he and Charlie have packages coming to the Burrow from the latter three, though mostly from Dervish and Banges, where they'd picked up some basic wizarding supplies for relatively cheap, for Xander's future studies. A standard, size two, pewter cauldron, some scales, a mortar and pestle, and things of that nature.
“If I were a spiteful man, I'd give an interview to the Quibbler just for her cheek!” Charlie snorts again, leaning his chin on Xander's shoulder.
“What's the Quibbler? Is that another newspaper?”
“Yeah, the only direct rival of the Prophet, actually. And you know, Charlie, that's not a bad idea,” Harry says thoughtfully. “This wouldn't be the first time the newspapers were used to control the flow of information. Perhaps you two giving a candid interview with the Quibbler might puncture this balloon of Ministry secrecy Skeeter's blown up. . . .”
Charlie and Xander look at each other. “Listen, Harry, mate, I was just kidding about giving an interview with the Quibbler . . . I think the best thing is to let this whole interest in us run its course and fizzle out.” Charlie looks at Xander again for agreement, but Xander's frowning in thought, too.
“This . . . Quibbler . . . is it on the level? Fair and accurate, and all that jazz?” he asks, and Harry nods.
“Occasionally their stories are a bit . . . on the weird side, but they're honest, and Xenophilius and Luna Lovegood have more integrity in their little fingers than Rita Skeeter has ever had in her whole life. Which isn't saying much, but . . . I trust them to do fair and accurate reporting, and not play hobble-de-hoy with the facts or draw erroneous conclusions based on next to nothing.” Harry waves at the piles of the Prophet on the table.
“Huh.” Xander breathes, and Charlie's eyes widen. “That's not a bad idea, there, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter.”
“You're not serious, love?!”
“Well, I think Harry has a point about getting our own version of things out there before people like that Skeeter-person can poison the water. It's a classic end-run celebrities use to do damage control. And with this mug? I need all the damage control I can get.” Xander laughs ruefully, and Charlie reaches up to caress his cheek.
“I love this mug,” he says solemnly. “I can't imagine waking up every morning to a lovelier sight.”
Xander leans closer till his forehead is touching Charlie's. “Thank you,” he says. “But sadly, most of the wizarding world won't feel that way. And that's why I think we ought to at least consider Harry's idea. Especially if we have the Ministry's help in answering some of the more . . . thorny, classified questions, such as why, exactly, I look like Tom Riddle.”
Harry nods again, looking grim. “You leave the, er, thorny questions to us, and we'll come up with something that'll satisfy the public without . . . outting you, as it were.”
“Why do you look like Tom Riddle, by the way?” Ginny asks, eyes narrowing in curiosity and, yes, suspicion. “Not just a little, but exactly like him.”
“That's a good question . . . Harry?” Charlie turns to his brother-in-law and, following his gaze, so does Xander. Even Ginny turns to him. Harry clears his throat and says in his blandest tones.
“The Ministry is, of course, looking into this matter as time and circumstances allow. We don't, as yet, have any definite answers, but until we've completed our investigation into this matter, we'll do our best to reassure the wizarding public and keep them apprised of the situation.”
Xander blinks, as do Charlie and Ginny.
“Was any of that in English?” Charlie asks. Ginny shakes her head. “I'm not sure that it was.”
“That, my fine witch and wizard, was government non-speak. And it was perfect!” Xander says, leaning across the table to shake Harry's hand. Harry looks bemused, but takes Xander's hand. “If you decide being a wizard-cop isn't for you, you should come be our PR guy.”
Ginny laughs and responds before Harry can. “Harry's been an auror since he was eleven years old. I don't expect he'll be changing that any time soon.”
At this, Harry's smile turns rather bitter, and he stands up. “Well, some of us have to be heading back to that job we've been doing since we were eleven. My lunch hour ended at leat half an hour ago, sorry,” he adds when Xander pouts. That bitter smile becomes less so. “The Ministry is willing to let you stay at the Burrow, if you wish, though if you prefer, I can pop over later to take you back to Grimmauld Place-“ Harry's tone says what he thinks of the likelihood of that happening.
“Why do you stay there, Harry, where you have a perfectly good home that doesn't include screaming, racist paintings and ghouls in the loo?” Ginny asks, and Harry rolls his eyes.
“Well, with the kids moved out and you gone most of the time, it's just easier for me to stay at Grimmauld Place.”
“How? How is it easier?” Ginny demands, trying to put a smile on the face of it, but that smile merely looks like a dyspeptic grimace. Harry pushes his chair in and looks at her.
“It just is,” he says quietly, and finally. And Ginny subsides, but with a cold, unhappy silence.
“We still need to talk about Lily and this . . . dragon-keeping thing,” she says, glancing at Charlie. “And I want Charlie, as the only dragon-keeper we know, there, as well.”
Harry rolls his eyes, but nods his assent. “If that's okay with Charlie? This evening, around eight?”
Charlie sighs, but nods. “I can answer any questions you have about dragon-keeping . . . they may not be the answers you want or expect, though, Gin,” he says gently. And Ginny's lips purse.
“How would you feel if it was your child?” She points at Xander's midsection. “The child he's carrying right now. Imagine in nineteen years, that child wanted to be a dragon-keeper. How would you feel?”
Xander and Charlie look at each other, and Charlie places his hand over Xander's abdomen.
“Worried,” he decides, but smiles. “But proud. And let me say . . . very recently, both Xander and a mate of mine, Gavin, were very badly injured when we brought in an Ironbelly dragon. Last I heard, Gavin was still being kept in a healing coma at St. Mungo's due to the extent of his injuries. But-“ he adds, before Ginny can say anything. “If-no, when he's better, he'll be right back out there with the rest of us, taking care of our dragons. It's a labor of love, not of foolhardiness, despite what you may think, Gin. And anyway, most of the time isn't spent bringing in new and wild dragons, but taking care of the ones we already have. We actually only average one dragon per year. If that.”
Ginny shakes her head. “I still think it's a horrible idea for Lily. She's so . . . flighty. Smart. Brave. But flighty. If that flightiness exerted itself at the wrong moment, she could wind up like your friend Gavin.”
“Honestly, if she displays that much flightiness during her internship-which is where she'd start, for the first year-she'd wash right out of the program. The keeper who's temporarily holding my position, Charlene, wouldn't let her past the interview stage if she seemed unsuited to the work in any way, no matter who she was related to.”
“See? All on the up and up. And we can discuss it in more detail later because I have a meeting. . . .” Harry says regretfully, glancing at his Muggle-style watch. Ginny snorts.
“Don't you always?”
There's another awkward silence, during which Harry takes out his wand and clearly fights the urge to respond to what Ginny-who's already looking as if she regrets saying it-said. It's a fight that Harry loses.
“And you wonder why I stay at Grimmauld Place?” he asks stiffly. “Apparate!”
And in the wake of Harry's apparation, Ginny looks both guilty and hurt-as if she's lost the plot of her entire life and is just now realizing it.
Neither Xander nor Charlie know what to say to her-but that turns out to not be a problem, as Ginny stands up suddenly, a bright, but fake smile on her pretty face. “Well!” she says, clapping her hands together. “Now that I've managed to bollocks up my homecoming to the hilt-I'm going home to take a bath and a nap. I'll see you both this evening. Excuse me.”
And with that, she's striding out of the kitchen, shoulders back and head held high.
“Yikes. How long's this been going on?” Xander asks Charlie, who shrugs helplessly.
“I don't know. Last I knew, things were-well, maybe not wonderful between them, but they were better than this.”
Xander shudders, remembering what Harry had told him at the wedding reception.
I've been unhappy for a long time, he'd said. Then he'd told Xander to not worry about it . . . as if, once told something like that, anyone would be liable to just forget it.
Sighing again, Xander lays his head on Charlie's shoulder. “Promise me we'll never end up like that-just passively aggressively hurting each other, then running away before we at least try to solve our problems.”
Charlie kisses Xander's forehead and gathers him into his arms, standing up. Xander wraps his arms around Charlie's neck. “I promise,” Charlie says, gazing seriously into Xander's eyes as he carries him into the hallway and up the stairs.
“And promise me we'll find a way to help Harry and Ginny,” Xander adds, and Charlie makes a face.
“Love, it's not our marriage. We shouldn't get involved.”
“But look at how unhappy they are? Promise me that if there's any way we can help them be happier, we'll do our best. Nothing interfere-y, just . . . a little nudge, here and there, as needed.”
“Xand. . . .” Charlie groans, lightly kicking open the door to his and Bill's old room. Once inside, he kicks the door shut, placing Xander on his old bed and sitting next to him. Xander does not let go of Charlie, but instead holds him closer.
“Just offering a listening ear and advice?”
“They've been married for almost thirty years. We haven't even been married thirty days. What kind of advice could we offer?”
“Better advice than the none they're getting, right now,” Xander says, kissing Charlie teasingly. “They're floundering, and they're making each other miserable. I've seen this before-I grew up with it. If they don't get some sort of help, either from family or from a professional counselor, they're going to end up like my parents. Or, since they're probably smarter than my parents were, they'll end up divorced.”
Charlie frowns even as Xander kisses that frown away.
“Alright,” he says finally, letting Xander pull him down to the bed. “I'll take Gin if you take Harry. And only if they come to us, first. We're not going to get into their business and forcing unsolicited advice on them. Deal?”
Xander pouts, but Charlie's facial expression doesn't change one iota. “Deal?” he says again, and Xander huffs. “Fine, deal. No unsolicited advice.”
“Good.” Charlie maneuvers his body so that he's laying between Xander's legs and looking down into his eyes. “I do, however, love that you have such a big and caring heart.”
“Well, he's our friend. And she's your sister. They're family, and if we can't help family. . . .” Xander shrugs. Then moans softly as Charlie kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him some more.
“So, how long do you think we have till someone comes home?” Xander eventually pants on Charlie's lips, and Charlie grins.
“A few hours, maybe.”
“In that case, I declare our honeymoon to be not over for at least the next few hours!” Xander exclaims, fumbling about in his robe for his wand. Charlie, who, as always, is robeless, beats him to the punch by simply touching the wand in its holster.
“Divestio!” he murmurs, and just like magic, they're naked. Xander chuckles as Charlie starts grinding against him. He's more than half hard, and in less than a minute, so is Xander, who wraps his legs around Charlie's waist. They're still gazing into each other's eyes and grinning.
“Are we really gonna have sex in your old room?” Xander finally asks, laughing. Charlie's eyebrows shoot up.
“If I could even venture as guess as to how many times I've wanked in here-“
“That's different, you know.” Xander hisses as Charlie's cock slides past his balls, dragging lightly over his perineum. “Totally different.”
“Mm . . . how so?” Charlie kisses Xander again, before he can answer. And it's just as well, because Xander has no real explanation for why it is different, just that it is.
And different doesn't necessarily mean bad.
No, it definitely doesn't mean bad, when Charlie's body feels, as always, so good against his own.
I wish Harry had this with-well, if not with Ginny, then at least with someone, is Xander's last thought before Charlie gently urges him onto his stomach, then slides a pillow beneath his hips. Xander spreads his legs without having to be told, and draws in a stuttered breath as Charlie kisses the small of his back. I wish Harry had someone he could feel this safe with.
Then all thought is eradicated as Xander moans, and squirms around Charlie's tongue, and their honeymoon-which had ended so abruptly when a maid had knocked on their door to remind them it was check-out time-picks up right from where it left off.
End
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The Post-Honeymooners
Author:
_beetle_
Fandom: BtVS/Harry Potter
Pairing: Xander Harris/Charlie Weasley
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: Approx. 4000
Notes/Warnings: Set post-Chosen by ten years, and post DH/e by ten years. Spoilers for BtVS “Chosen” and DH/e. Previous stories in the Impressions-verse can be found here.
Disclaimer: Who owns nothing? I own nothing!
Summary: Xander and Charlie have sex. Xander and Ginny finally meet. Harry and Ginny have problems. Xander and Charlie have sex.
Xander awakens on the final day of their honeymoon much the same way he's awakened on the other days: On his stomach, Charlie kissing his way down Xander's back, then holding his cheeks apart to run his tongue down to Xander's sore, sensitized hole.
He laves it with his tongue, flicking it teasingly in, but not quite penetrating Xander. At least not until Xander's moaning and squirming on the bed, swearing and panting, beging for more, please, Charlie, more. . . .
And, as always, Charlie gives him more-or is about to, when there's a knock at the door.
“GO. AWAY!” Xander calls hoarsely as Charlie's agile, oh, so, naughty tongue wiggles its way inside him. “OH, GOD, GO AWAY!”
“Em . . . sorry. But it's check-out time, and I need to get in to clean the room for the next guests,” a muffled, slightly hesitant voice says.
This time, Charlie's the one to moan, and he withdraws his tongue with a final lascivious slurp then crawls up Xander's body and the bed to whisper in his ear:
“We'll pick up where we left off later, alright?”
“So not alright . . . but I guess we don't have a choice,” Xander grouses, and Charlie nuzzles his ear.
“Not unless we want Rosemerta up here. She has a key to all the rooms and she's not shy about using it.”
Xander shudders. “Alright, alright, I get the point. Well, I was going to get the point, until we were so rudely interrupted.” He snorts, reaching behind him and between them for Charlie's cock. It's gratifyingly hard, and Xander sighs.
“Don't worry, Xand, I promise you, it'll keep,” Charlie says, laughing and groaning as Xander strokes him off. “Or maybe it won't-fuck, if you don't stop, I'm gonna come just from this.”
“Kinda the idea, hon. Uh, give us five minutes, please! We need to, uh, get dressed!” Xander calls to the waiting maid at the door, still running his thumb across the glans of Charlie's cock and hissing when Charlie insinuates his hands between him and the bed, and pulls Xander up to his knees.
Then his hand is on Xander's cock, rough and tight and fast. . . .
Five minutes and thirty-seven breathless seconds later, they open the door to the room-scourgified, clothes on mostly straight, faces flushed-and apologize to the maid, who looks both harried and horrified.
Then they're making their way down to the common room and the floo.
At least, Xander thinks guiltily as Charlie kisses Rosemerta on the cheek, then scoops Xander up in his arms. We left a really good tip.
Then they're in the floo, and on their way to the Burrow.
*
Charlie and Xander step out of the floo-Xander carried safely in Charlie's arms-and into a small-scale war-zone.
“-she's been at loose ends since graduating from Hogwarts, Gin. I think this'll be good for her,” Harry's saying to Charlie's sister, who's got that angry, mum-look on her face and her hands on her narrow hips.
“And I'm telling you, no daughter of mine is going to be a dragon-keeper!” She proclaims, her voice rising as Harry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You can't exactly stop her from doing this, if it's what she wants, Gin. She's reached the age of majority.”
“Then you stop her Harry! Or don't you even care, anymore?”
Now, Harry's glaring. “How can you say I don't care? Just because I'm not behaving like some autocratic despot-“
“It's autocratic, now, to love and worry about our children?”
“When it gets in the way of their dreams, I believe it is.”
“Oh, yes, the dream she's had for about two weeks!” Ginny rolls her eyes. “Wouldn't want to stand in the way of that!”
Harry sighs again. “Look, there's every chance that once she sees the nuts and bolts of how dragon-keeping works, she'll lose interest in it, just as she has with everything else.”
“Except that she thinks she's uniquely qualified for the job because she speaks bloody Parseltongue.” Ginny crosses her arms and turns away from Harry, only to start when she notices Charlie and Xander standing at the fireplace. Then she starts again when she gets a good looks at Xander.
Harry follows her gaze and covers his eyes for a moment, muttering something about timing.
“You're home,” he says, trying to smile. It doesn't quite work. “How was the honeymoon?
*
Lunch is an awkward affair, with the four of them sitting around Molly's kitchen table, eating sandwiches Xander and Harry hastily put together while the siblings get caught up.
And Xander can't, of course, help but notice the way Ginny Potter's eyes keep sliding over to him. He can feel her intent gaze even when his back is turned, which is most of the time, while he and Harry are sandwich-crafting.
Then, when he and Harry bring the sandwiches over to the table-Charlie looks up at Xander with a soft: “Thank you love,” and a kiss when Xander sits down-a silence falls over the two couples. Everyone takes a sandwich and busies themselves with eating it.
Ginny keeps sneaking peeks at Xander, her face growing more and more confused, and Xander, for his part, doesn't know where to look. Harry's avoiding everyone's eyes and Charlie's trying so hard to pretend everything is alright.
Finally, Xander-having barely tasted any of his sandwich, even though two-thirds of it is gone-sighs and looks at Ginny straight on, smiling lamely, daring to approach the white elephant in the room. “So . . . I look like Tom Riddle and most of the witches and wizards who've met me find that . . . disconcerting.”
“Yes. Quite,” Ginny breathes-it's a small sigh of relief-and almost smiles, herself. “The resemblance is uncanny. I can't imagine that's been . . . easy for you. I've been seeing the photos and articles in the Prophet, and well, the photos at least don't do the resemblance justice.”
Xander blushes. “Yeah, well, they're close enough to freak me out,” he mutters, and Charlie takes his hand, pulling it to his mouth for a kiss. Ginny's eyes tick between them, and she sighs once more, shaking her head.
“How did you two meet, if you don't mind me asking?”
Xander and Charlie share a glance. Then Xander shrugs and Charlie answers. “We met in a cafe in Romania five months ago. Xander had made a . . . social gaffe of sorts, and we stared talking and . . . things just went from there.”
Ginny's brow furrows. “Five months? Isn't that a little . . . soon to be getting married and having a child?”
“In most cases, I'm sure it might be. In some cases, knowing each other for a lifetime isn't long enough.” Charlie agrees, and for some reason, both Ginny and Harry blush. But Charlie squeezes Xander's hand and doesn't seem to notice. “Trust me on this, Gin: we know what we're doing. I've never met anyone like Xander in my entire life, and never will again. He's the love of my life. Of all my lives.”
“Oh, Charlie,” Xander murmurs, leaning in to kiss Charlie. Charlie, of course, happily kisses him back, tugging Xander up and over, till Xander's sitting in his lap. They laugh and kiss and hug till Harry clears his throat.
“Oh, sorry.” Xander blushes, but plants a final quick, small kiss on Charlie's lips, but not moving from Charlie's lap. “Leftover honeymoon horniness. You know how it is.”
Ginny and Harry blush again, carefully not looking at each other or at Xander and Charlie.
“Hey, speaking of the Daily Prophet,” Xander begins with a sigh of his own, “we've managed to avoid it for four blissful days and nights. Have we been featured in it at all?”
Now, at last, Harry and Ginny exchange a glance. Ginny shrugs and Harry sighs. “Accio Daily Prophet,” he says. And several issues of the newspaper come flying into the room, to land on the table in front of Harry, who sorts through them, muttering to himself. “Aha!”
He hands one of the evening editions to Xander, who takes it and unfolds it. “I see Charlie and I have made the first page, once more. Or at least our hands have,” he says wryly, tilting the paper so Charlie can see the front page photo.
Technically, there are two shots: one of Charlie's hand and one of Xander's, side by side. Both still-shots, for once, but only so, it would appear, the photo editor could highlight the rings on their fingers.
The headline is, predictably: SECRET NUPTIALS!
Charlie opens the paper to page three, where the story is continued. “'. . . seen about Hogsmeade and environs, walking hand in hand, and wearing matching wedding rings, Mr. Charles Weasley and the Tom Riddle look-a-like-whom, the Prophet can now confirm is named and has been introduced to several people this reporter has spoken to as Xander Weasley-were confirmed by many to be on their honeymoon.
“'The pair were not shy about announcing their recent nuptials to all and sundry, though one wonders why the wedding announcement wasn't simply posted in the Prophet'-she wonders why?” Charlie snorts, handing the paper back to Xander, who skims the article, which has little substance, and scans the photos of them at the few places they'd left their room to go visit: Puddifoot's, Gladrags, Dervish and Banges, and, several times, Honeyduke's.
In fact, he and Charlie have packages coming to the Burrow from the latter three, though mostly from Dervish and Banges, where they'd picked up some basic wizarding supplies for relatively cheap, for Xander's future studies. A standard, size two, pewter cauldron, some scales, a mortar and pestle, and things of that nature.
“If I were a spiteful man, I'd give an interview to the Quibbler just for her cheek!” Charlie snorts again, leaning his chin on Xander's shoulder.
“What's the Quibbler? Is that another newspaper?”
“Yeah, the only direct rival of the Prophet, actually. And you know, Charlie, that's not a bad idea,” Harry says thoughtfully. “This wouldn't be the first time the newspapers were used to control the flow of information. Perhaps you two giving a candid interview with the Quibbler might puncture this balloon of Ministry secrecy Skeeter's blown up. . . .”
Charlie and Xander look at each other. “Listen, Harry, mate, I was just kidding about giving an interview with the Quibbler . . . I think the best thing is to let this whole interest in us run its course and fizzle out.” Charlie looks at Xander again for agreement, but Xander's frowning in thought, too.
“This . . . Quibbler . . . is it on the level? Fair and accurate, and all that jazz?” he asks, and Harry nods.
“Occasionally their stories are a bit . . . on the weird side, but they're honest, and Xenophilius and Luna Lovegood have more integrity in their little fingers than Rita Skeeter has ever had in her whole life. Which isn't saying much, but . . . I trust them to do fair and accurate reporting, and not play hobble-de-hoy with the facts or draw erroneous conclusions based on next to nothing.” Harry waves at the piles of the Prophet on the table.
“Huh.” Xander breathes, and Charlie's eyes widen. “That's not a bad idea, there, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter.”
“You're not serious, love?!”
“Well, I think Harry has a point about getting our own version of things out there before people like that Skeeter-person can poison the water. It's a classic end-run celebrities use to do damage control. And with this mug? I need all the damage control I can get.” Xander laughs ruefully, and Charlie reaches up to caress his cheek.
“I love this mug,” he says solemnly. “I can't imagine waking up every morning to a lovelier sight.”
Xander leans closer till his forehead is touching Charlie's. “Thank you,” he says. “But sadly, most of the wizarding world won't feel that way. And that's why I think we ought to at least consider Harry's idea. Especially if we have the Ministry's help in answering some of the more . . . thorny, classified questions, such as why, exactly, I look like Tom Riddle.”
Harry nods again, looking grim. “You leave the, er, thorny questions to us, and we'll come up with something that'll satisfy the public without . . . outting you, as it were.”
“Why do you look like Tom Riddle, by the way?” Ginny asks, eyes narrowing in curiosity and, yes, suspicion. “Not just a little, but exactly like him.”
“That's a good question . . . Harry?” Charlie turns to his brother-in-law and, following his gaze, so does Xander. Even Ginny turns to him. Harry clears his throat and says in his blandest tones.
“The Ministry is, of course, looking into this matter as time and circumstances allow. We don't, as yet, have any definite answers, but until we've completed our investigation into this matter, we'll do our best to reassure the wizarding public and keep them apprised of the situation.”
Xander blinks, as do Charlie and Ginny.
“Was any of that in English?” Charlie asks. Ginny shakes her head. “I'm not sure that it was.”
“That, my fine witch and wizard, was government non-speak. And it was perfect!” Xander says, leaning across the table to shake Harry's hand. Harry looks bemused, but takes Xander's hand. “If you decide being a wizard-cop isn't for you, you should come be our PR guy.”
Ginny laughs and responds before Harry can. “Harry's been an auror since he was eleven years old. I don't expect he'll be changing that any time soon.”
At this, Harry's smile turns rather bitter, and he stands up. “Well, some of us have to be heading back to that job we've been doing since we were eleven. My lunch hour ended at leat half an hour ago, sorry,” he adds when Xander pouts. That bitter smile becomes less so. “The Ministry is willing to let you stay at the Burrow, if you wish, though if you prefer, I can pop over later to take you back to Grimmauld Place-“ Harry's tone says what he thinks of the likelihood of that happening.
“Why do you stay there, Harry, where you have a perfectly good home that doesn't include screaming, racist paintings and ghouls in the loo?” Ginny asks, and Harry rolls his eyes.
“Well, with the kids moved out and you gone most of the time, it's just easier for me to stay at Grimmauld Place.”
“How? How is it easier?” Ginny demands, trying to put a smile on the face of it, but that smile merely looks like a dyspeptic grimace. Harry pushes his chair in and looks at her.
“It just is,” he says quietly, and finally. And Ginny subsides, but with a cold, unhappy silence.
“We still need to talk about Lily and this . . . dragon-keeping thing,” she says, glancing at Charlie. “And I want Charlie, as the only dragon-keeper we know, there, as well.”
Harry rolls his eyes, but nods his assent. “If that's okay with Charlie? This evening, around eight?”
Charlie sighs, but nods. “I can answer any questions you have about dragon-keeping . . . they may not be the answers you want or expect, though, Gin,” he says gently. And Ginny's lips purse.
“How would you feel if it was your child?” She points at Xander's midsection. “The child he's carrying right now. Imagine in nineteen years, that child wanted to be a dragon-keeper. How would you feel?”
Xander and Charlie look at each other, and Charlie places his hand over Xander's abdomen.
“Worried,” he decides, but smiles. “But proud. And let me say . . . very recently, both Xander and a mate of mine, Gavin, were very badly injured when we brought in an Ironbelly dragon. Last I heard, Gavin was still being kept in a healing coma at St. Mungo's due to the extent of his injuries. But-“ he adds, before Ginny can say anything. “If-no, when he's better, he'll be right back out there with the rest of us, taking care of our dragons. It's a labor of love, not of foolhardiness, despite what you may think, Gin. And anyway, most of the time isn't spent bringing in new and wild dragons, but taking care of the ones we already have. We actually only average one dragon per year. If that.”
Ginny shakes her head. “I still think it's a horrible idea for Lily. She's so . . . flighty. Smart. Brave. But flighty. If that flightiness exerted itself at the wrong moment, she could wind up like your friend Gavin.”
“Honestly, if she displays that much flightiness during her internship-which is where she'd start, for the first year-she'd wash right out of the program. The keeper who's temporarily holding my position, Charlene, wouldn't let her past the interview stage if she seemed unsuited to the work in any way, no matter who she was related to.”
“See? All on the up and up. And we can discuss it in more detail later because I have a meeting. . . .” Harry says regretfully, glancing at his Muggle-style watch. Ginny snorts.
“Don't you always?”
There's another awkward silence, during which Harry takes out his wand and clearly fights the urge to respond to what Ginny-who's already looking as if she regrets saying it-said. It's a fight that Harry loses.
“And you wonder why I stay at Grimmauld Place?” he asks stiffly. “Apparate!”
And in the wake of Harry's apparation, Ginny looks both guilty and hurt-as if she's lost the plot of her entire life and is just now realizing it.
Neither Xander nor Charlie know what to say to her-but that turns out to not be a problem, as Ginny stands up suddenly, a bright, but fake smile on her pretty face. “Well!” she says, clapping her hands together. “Now that I've managed to bollocks up my homecoming to the hilt-I'm going home to take a bath and a nap. I'll see you both this evening. Excuse me.”
And with that, she's striding out of the kitchen, shoulders back and head held high.
“Yikes. How long's this been going on?” Xander asks Charlie, who shrugs helplessly.
“I don't know. Last I knew, things were-well, maybe not wonderful between them, but they were better than this.”
Xander shudders, remembering what Harry had told him at the wedding reception.
I've been unhappy for a long time, he'd said. Then he'd told Xander to not worry about it . . . as if, once told something like that, anyone would be liable to just forget it.
Sighing again, Xander lays his head on Charlie's shoulder. “Promise me we'll never end up like that-just passively aggressively hurting each other, then running away before we at least try to solve our problems.”
Charlie kisses Xander's forehead and gathers him into his arms, standing up. Xander wraps his arms around Charlie's neck. “I promise,” Charlie says, gazing seriously into Xander's eyes as he carries him into the hallway and up the stairs.
“And promise me we'll find a way to help Harry and Ginny,” Xander adds, and Charlie makes a face.
“Love, it's not our marriage. We shouldn't get involved.”
“But look at how unhappy they are? Promise me that if there's any way we can help them be happier, we'll do our best. Nothing interfere-y, just . . . a little nudge, here and there, as needed.”
“Xand. . . .” Charlie groans, lightly kicking open the door to his and Bill's old room. Once inside, he kicks the door shut, placing Xander on his old bed and sitting next to him. Xander does not let go of Charlie, but instead holds him closer.
“Just offering a listening ear and advice?”
“They've been married for almost thirty years. We haven't even been married thirty days. What kind of advice could we offer?”
“Better advice than the none they're getting, right now,” Xander says, kissing Charlie teasingly. “They're floundering, and they're making each other miserable. I've seen this before-I grew up with it. If they don't get some sort of help, either from family or from a professional counselor, they're going to end up like my parents. Or, since they're probably smarter than my parents were, they'll end up divorced.”
Charlie frowns even as Xander kisses that frown away.
“Alright,” he says finally, letting Xander pull him down to the bed. “I'll take Gin if you take Harry. And only if they come to us, first. We're not going to get into their business and forcing unsolicited advice on them. Deal?”
Xander pouts, but Charlie's facial expression doesn't change one iota. “Deal?” he says again, and Xander huffs. “Fine, deal. No unsolicited advice.”
“Good.” Charlie maneuvers his body so that he's laying between Xander's legs and looking down into his eyes. “I do, however, love that you have such a big and caring heart.”
“Well, he's our friend. And she's your sister. They're family, and if we can't help family. . . .” Xander shrugs. Then moans softly as Charlie kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him some more.
“So, how long do you think we have till someone comes home?” Xander eventually pants on Charlie's lips, and Charlie grins.
“A few hours, maybe.”
“In that case, I declare our honeymoon to be not over for at least the next few hours!” Xander exclaims, fumbling about in his robe for his wand. Charlie, who, as always, is robeless, beats him to the punch by simply touching the wand in its holster.
“Divestio!” he murmurs, and just like magic, they're naked. Xander chuckles as Charlie starts grinding against him. He's more than half hard, and in less than a minute, so is Xander, who wraps his legs around Charlie's waist. They're still gazing into each other's eyes and grinning.
“Are we really gonna have sex in your old room?” Xander finally asks, laughing. Charlie's eyebrows shoot up.
“If I could even venture as guess as to how many times I've wanked in here-“
“That's different, you know.” Xander hisses as Charlie's cock slides past his balls, dragging lightly over his perineum. “Totally different.”
“Mm . . . how so?” Charlie kisses Xander again, before he can answer. And it's just as well, because Xander has no real explanation for why it is different, just that it is.
And different doesn't necessarily mean bad.
No, it definitely doesn't mean bad, when Charlie's body feels, as always, so good against his own.
I wish Harry had this with-well, if not with Ginny, then at least with someone, is Xander's last thought before Charlie gently urges him onto his stomach, then slides a pillow beneath his hips. Xander spreads his legs without having to be told, and draws in a stuttered breath as Charlie kisses the small of his back. I wish Harry had someone he could feel this safe with.
Then all thought is eradicated as Xander moans, and squirms around Charlie's tongue, and their honeymoon-which had ended so abruptly when a maid had knocked on their door to remind them it was check-out time-picks up right from where it left off.
End