Season's Greetings, RAGDOLL!
Title: Icy Rendezvous
Author: katmarajade
Written for: ragdoll
Pairing: Charlie/Luna
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 688
Prompt: snowdrifts and icicles
Summary: Molly keeps trying to fix Charlie up with nice girls, not knowing that he's already found the perfect woman.
He'd been back in England for a year and was remembering why he'd left in the first place. There was no question that he loved his mum dearly-she was a fiercely devoted, loving, and amazing woman and the best mother a bloke could ask for-but she also drove him around the bloody bend. It had been easier to forget her meddlesome tendencies while away in Romania surrounded by unattached dragon handlers, but now that he was back …
Every week he stopped by for Sunday dinner and every week she had some woman in mind with whom he could settle down and raise a new batch of ginger grandbabies. Some weeks she even invited the women to dinner, which meant he needed to sit awkwardly next to a strange girl at the table and make uncomfortable small talk while they both realised just how impossible their future happiness would be.
He had repeatedly attempted to explain to his mother how he was quite fulfilled and satisfied with his work right now. One of the reasons for his return was that he'd been offered a position at an English magical zoo, where he worked with dozens of amazing magical creatures. The daily challenge and problem solving was something he greatly enjoyed, and his boss, who managed the entire compound, was fantastic. This was not enough for Molly Weasley, however.
The woman she'd invited to dinner that week was lovely and by the end of the meal, Charlie had discovered she was quite handsy too. Politely thanking his mum for another great meal, hugging his father goodbye, and lying through his teeth as he told his latest potential match how lovely it had been to meet her, he excused himself early, citing work obligations.
Moments later he Apparated to a quiet field where the snow had been teased into peaks, valleys, and teetering crests by whimsical winter winds. The artist wind, bored with its sculptures, now played with the long, wavering icicles hanging from the sagging willow branches, playing them like wind chimes, a low, bittersweet winter song.
Trudging through the icy snow, he ducked behind a snow drift and smiled at the woman who was already there, resting peacefully in the quiet, icy afternoon.
"Hello, Charlie," she breathed, her voice reminding him of the whispering wind.
"Hello yourself, love," he answered. "I thought I'd never get away."
"I knew you would get here when you were supposed to. Things have a way of working out as they should. Can you hear the wind, the song it's playing?"
Charlie grinned, thinking how perfect this woman was. "Yes! I was noticing it as I came in. A haunting sort of,"
"Winter song," they finished together, their words quiet in deference to the icy melody that still danced through the air.
Leaning in for a kiss, Charlie wondered how his mother would react to him having already fallen in love, because he was sure that this was it, that heady forever feeling that his besotted siblings and moony friends had always blathered on about. Would she be delighted that it had happened or would she be offended that he'd hid it from her for all these months, letting her fret and waste her time on pointless matchmaking? He supposed it didn't matter.
All that mattered was Luna, her golden hair sparkling with a glittery dust of snow and her silver eyes shining brighter than the moon. For now, he wanted her all to himself. No well-intentioned teasing from his brothers, no interfering mother, no jokes from his dad.
Her smile showed that she understood exactly and she gave him a sly, lidded look as she pushed him gently into the smooth bed of snow and covered him like a blanket, her long limbs warm pressed against his. She kissed him hungrily and despite the cold, he felt warmth radiating from deep within.
Lost under a blanket of blond hair, his fingers clenching around the perfect handholds of her flared hips, Charlie could have sworn that the melancholy song of the wind changed into something warmer, something sweeter. This was their song.
Author: katmarajade
Written for: ragdoll
Pairing: Charlie/Luna
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 688
Prompt: snowdrifts and icicles
Summary: Molly keeps trying to fix Charlie up with nice girls, not knowing that he's already found the perfect woman.
He'd been back in England for a year and was remembering why he'd left in the first place. There was no question that he loved his mum dearly-she was a fiercely devoted, loving, and amazing woman and the best mother a bloke could ask for-but she also drove him around the bloody bend. It had been easier to forget her meddlesome tendencies while away in Romania surrounded by unattached dragon handlers, but now that he was back …
Every week he stopped by for Sunday dinner and every week she had some woman in mind with whom he could settle down and raise a new batch of ginger grandbabies. Some weeks she even invited the women to dinner, which meant he needed to sit awkwardly next to a strange girl at the table and make uncomfortable small talk while they both realised just how impossible their future happiness would be.
He had repeatedly attempted to explain to his mother how he was quite fulfilled and satisfied with his work right now. One of the reasons for his return was that he'd been offered a position at an English magical zoo, where he worked with dozens of amazing magical creatures. The daily challenge and problem solving was something he greatly enjoyed, and his boss, who managed the entire compound, was fantastic. This was not enough for Molly Weasley, however.
The woman she'd invited to dinner that week was lovely and by the end of the meal, Charlie had discovered she was quite handsy too. Politely thanking his mum for another great meal, hugging his father goodbye, and lying through his teeth as he told his latest potential match how lovely it had been to meet her, he excused himself early, citing work obligations.
Moments later he Apparated to a quiet field where the snow had been teased into peaks, valleys, and teetering crests by whimsical winter winds. The artist wind, bored with its sculptures, now played with the long, wavering icicles hanging from the sagging willow branches, playing them like wind chimes, a low, bittersweet winter song.
Trudging through the icy snow, he ducked behind a snow drift and smiled at the woman who was already there, resting peacefully in the quiet, icy afternoon.
"Hello, Charlie," she breathed, her voice reminding him of the whispering wind.
"Hello yourself, love," he answered. "I thought I'd never get away."
"I knew you would get here when you were supposed to. Things have a way of working out as they should. Can you hear the wind, the song it's playing?"
Charlie grinned, thinking how perfect this woman was. "Yes! I was noticing it as I came in. A haunting sort of,"
"Winter song," they finished together, their words quiet in deference to the icy melody that still danced through the air.
Leaning in for a kiss, Charlie wondered how his mother would react to him having already fallen in love, because he was sure that this was it, that heady forever feeling that his besotted siblings and moony friends had always blathered on about. Would she be delighted that it had happened or would she be offended that he'd hid it from her for all these months, letting her fret and waste her time on pointless matchmaking? He supposed it didn't matter.
All that mattered was Luna, her golden hair sparkling with a glittery dust of snow and her silver eyes shining brighter than the moon. For now, he wanted her all to himself. No well-intentioned teasing from his brothers, no interfering mother, no jokes from his dad.
Her smile showed that she understood exactly and she gave him a sly, lidded look as she pushed him gently into the smooth bed of snow and covered him like a blanket, her long limbs warm pressed against his. She kissed him hungrily and despite the cold, he felt warmth radiating from deep within.
Lost under a blanket of blond hair, his fingers clenching around the perfect handholds of her flared hips, Charlie could have sworn that the melancholy song of the wind changed into something warmer, something sweeter. This was their song.