Present -Fic : The conversation, again.
DATE/TIME: 15 July 2007, morning
CHARACTERS: Charlie Weasley, Samantha Donnelly
PLACE: Sam's flat, London
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: Complete
Charlie woke up to the aroma of coffee. He stretched in the tangle of sheets and smiled; he loved the smell of the stuff even if he did prefer tea. He got up and pulled on his boxer shorts, and reached for where his tee shirt should have been on the floor, but Samantha had evidently put his things in the laundry. He smoothed his hair down and padded into the kitchen where he found Sam reaching for a mug.
"Morning, love," he wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her hair. "Did you put a kettle on for my tea?"
Sam poured her coffee and raised her wand to start the kettle heating. "Didn't know when you'd be up."
Charlie chuckled and kissed her hair. "Maybe you shouldn't keep me out so late socializing; I had no idea the brass kept such late hours," he joked, but quickly regretted his words when Samantha stiffened.
"The brass as you call them," she said frostily, "Could very well be people you should get to know."
He let her go and stepped to the side, leaning against the smooth stone counter. It seemed like they were headed for what Charlie had begun calling The Conversation in his head. It always started with Samantha hinting that Charlie should be doing something else with his life, that dragon-keeping was perfectly fine for a young man out of school but hardly a worthy career for someone, she hinted, who could have prospects.
He sighed. "They're nice enough, Sam, but they're your officemates, not mine. Not really my kind of people." Charlie shrugged. "No offense," he added, trying to diffuse the situation. Maybe he could change the subject or get her back to bed. At least sex was always still good between them even if lately conversation wasn't.
"Your kind of people? Are those the ones who want to spend the rest of their lives covered in dragon dung or the ones who spend all their free time playing Quidditch scrimmages?" Samantha sipped her coffee and looked at him imploringly and her voice softened. "I didn't mean to snap Charlie, but it;s so hard watching you waste all that potential. You know as well as I that the Ministry needs good people. You come from a good family Charlie, Pureblood but not bigoted, and you've got the right personality that only needs a little polish-" she stopped abruptly as Charlie glared at her.
"Grooming me for something special, Sam?" Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and felt his jaw tighten. "It's you who wants that type of job, not me. I'm happy where I am, thanks.
"And when you're fifty? Sixty? Think of your future, Charlie!" Sam's voice grew shrill and the tea kettle whistled, as if underscoring her point. She flicked her wand to silence it and glared at Charlie.
Charlie shook his head. "We've said all this before, Sam. I'd be just as unhappy cooped up in an office as you'd be doing my job." He held up his hands in a let's-make-peace-gesture. He was biting back his temper but was determined not to have a row. He had too much else on his mind between Ron's return and work. "Look, I've got to go home and change. I'm meeting Tonks later. Maybe we could have dinner after?"
Samantha rolled her eyes and Charlie would have bet his last Galleon that she swallowed some comment about Tonks. "Sure. Dinner. I'll make reservations, but don't worry, it won't be anything too posh."
"Thanks. I'll see you tonight, then." Charlie leaned over and kissed her cheek. She didn't turn towards him but didn't turn away either. He figured that was well enough, all things considered.
After he'd retrieved his clothes and dressed, he'd opted to walk home. Charlie liked being outside, even in the city; he thought better when he was moving. He knew that The Conversation wasn't going to go away and that gave him an empty feeling in his belly that was more than a lack of breakfast. He wondered if the two of them were just incompatible. At first Sam had liked that he worked with dragons, that it was sexy and exciting and that by extension he was too. The more time she spent at the Ministry, though, the more she'd seemed drawn towards the pin-striped robes types with the big mahogany desks and sleek offices. She was ambitious, which had suited him fine, except now it wasn't enough for her to reach the top of the Ministry hierarchy, he was supposed to come along as well.
"That," he said to to a pigeon as he sat down on a bench in a little park, "is not on."
The pigeon warbled in response, then flew away when she saw no crumbs were forthcoming with the complaints. Sooner or later, he was going to have to do something more than vent at the pigeons. Maybe Tonks would have some advice. Even if she didn't, something would have to change and he wasn't looking forward to it. Funny how he'd rather face a dragon than a relationship decision. Gryffindor bravery wasn't going to help with this one. He sighed again, stood up, and scoped out a small copse of trees away from any passing Muggles. He'd Apparate home, have a shower and a cuppa, then maybe he'd have more of a clue.
CHARACTERS: Charlie Weasley, Samantha Donnelly
PLACE: Sam's flat, London
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: Complete
Charlie woke up to the aroma of coffee. He stretched in the tangle of sheets and smiled; he loved the smell of the stuff even if he did prefer tea. He got up and pulled on his boxer shorts, and reached for where his tee shirt should have been on the floor, but Samantha had evidently put his things in the laundry. He smoothed his hair down and padded into the kitchen where he found Sam reaching for a mug.
"Morning, love," he wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her hair. "Did you put a kettle on for my tea?"
Sam poured her coffee and raised her wand to start the kettle heating. "Didn't know when you'd be up."
Charlie chuckled and kissed her hair. "Maybe you shouldn't keep me out so late socializing; I had no idea the brass kept such late hours," he joked, but quickly regretted his words when Samantha stiffened.
"The brass as you call them," she said frostily, "Could very well be people you should get to know."
He let her go and stepped to the side, leaning against the smooth stone counter. It seemed like they were headed for what Charlie had begun calling The Conversation in his head. It always started with Samantha hinting that Charlie should be doing something else with his life, that dragon-keeping was perfectly fine for a young man out of school but hardly a worthy career for someone, she hinted, who could have prospects.
He sighed. "They're nice enough, Sam, but they're your officemates, not mine. Not really my kind of people." Charlie shrugged. "No offense," he added, trying to diffuse the situation. Maybe he could change the subject or get her back to bed. At least sex was always still good between them even if lately conversation wasn't.
"Your kind of people? Are those the ones who want to spend the rest of their lives covered in dragon dung or the ones who spend all their free time playing Quidditch scrimmages?" Samantha sipped her coffee and looked at him imploringly and her voice softened. "I didn't mean to snap Charlie, but it;s so hard watching you waste all that potential. You know as well as I that the Ministry needs good people. You come from a good family Charlie, Pureblood but not bigoted, and you've got the right personality that only needs a little polish-" she stopped abruptly as Charlie glared at her.
"Grooming me for something special, Sam?" Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and felt his jaw tighten. "It's you who wants that type of job, not me. I'm happy where I am, thanks.
"And when you're fifty? Sixty? Think of your future, Charlie!" Sam's voice grew shrill and the tea kettle whistled, as if underscoring her point. She flicked her wand to silence it and glared at Charlie.
Charlie shook his head. "We've said all this before, Sam. I'd be just as unhappy cooped up in an office as you'd be doing my job." He held up his hands in a let's-make-peace-gesture. He was biting back his temper but was determined not to have a row. He had too much else on his mind between Ron's return and work. "Look, I've got to go home and change. I'm meeting Tonks later. Maybe we could have dinner after?"
Samantha rolled her eyes and Charlie would have bet his last Galleon that she swallowed some comment about Tonks. "Sure. Dinner. I'll make reservations, but don't worry, it won't be anything too posh."
"Thanks. I'll see you tonight, then." Charlie leaned over and kissed her cheek. She didn't turn towards him but didn't turn away either. He figured that was well enough, all things considered.
After he'd retrieved his clothes and dressed, he'd opted to walk home. Charlie liked being outside, even in the city; he thought better when he was moving. He knew that The Conversation wasn't going to go away and that gave him an empty feeling in his belly that was more than a lack of breakfast. He wondered if the two of them were just incompatible. At first Sam had liked that he worked with dragons, that it was sexy and exciting and that by extension he was too. The more time she spent at the Ministry, though, the more she'd seemed drawn towards the pin-striped robes types with the big mahogany desks and sleek offices. She was ambitious, which had suited him fine, except now it wasn't enough for her to reach the top of the Ministry hierarchy, he was supposed to come along as well.
"That," he said to to a pigeon as he sat down on a bench in a little park, "is not on."
The pigeon warbled in response, then flew away when she saw no crumbs were forthcoming with the complaints. Sooner or later, he was going to have to do something more than vent at the pigeons. Maybe Tonks would have some advice. Even if she didn't, something would have to change and he wasn't looking forward to it. Funny how he'd rather face a dragon than a relationship decision. Gryffindor bravery wasn't going to help with this one. He sighed again, stood up, and scoped out a small copse of trees away from any passing Muggles. He'd Apparate home, have a shower and a cuppa, then maybe he'd have more of a clue.