Belonephobia
.... i can never seem to find this when I want it so it's going here. This is from 2009?
Title: Belonephobia
Author: wanderhomeagain
Rating: PG-13 for language
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Charlie/Viktor, canon pairings
Prompt: It didn't seem like the day could get any weirder…
Warnings: Language. General lack of smuttyness.
Word Count: 2861
Summary: Charlie Weasley does not have a tattoo. His family wants to get to the bottom of this mystery.
Notes: Now wait! Before you run away! I solemnly swear that I have a method to my madness. A long time ago, in a land far far away, luvscharlie was discussing what would immediately make her hit the back button. One of the items on her list was a Charlie without ink.
I, being the devil's advocate that I am, said that I would be okay with it, as long as the author could come up with a reason why- such as a fear of needles.
So luvscharlie threw down the gauntlet. And I became that author.
So, as written for the first week of fandom_fridays, I give you a tattooless Charlie.
Charlie was pretty sure that they were all drunk. They had to be, because there was no way this evening could get any weirder, so he must have been making some of it up in the haze of alcohol in which he found himself.
If they weren't drunk, Charlie wasn't sure that Bill would be showing off the Fleur-de-Lis tattoo on his arse.
Not that he wouldn't show it off if he were sober
.
He just didn't think that Bill would show it to all of their siblings and their wives while standing on their mother's kitchen table if he weren't drunk. Maybe to his mates- and maybe to the brothers- but not to everyone in the family save his parents.
Nor did he think George would be the voice of reason.
"All right you bloody exhibitionist, get off the table," their younger brother mock-scolded. "Do you want Mum to come down here?"
Bill waggled his arse once more towards his wife- and Charlie noticed, towards Hermione and Audrey, who were eyeing him speculatively- then did up his trousers and jumped down off the table.
"Is it safe to look now? Ginny asked, peeking from between the fingers that she'd put up to her eyes the minute Bill had begun undoing his trousers. Harry pulled her hands from her face completely.
"You're good." Then he raised his wine glass. "Who's next?"
They had met at the Burrow for dinner, an impromptu celebration for Charlie's temporary return home to the UK and Ron's acceptance into the Auror program. Molly was ecstatic to have them all under her roof again and had gone all out with the preparation of the meal, and Arthur pulled out a bottle of Old Ogden's he said he'd been saving for a special occasion. Everyone had brought a bottle of wine to help celebrate, and even though Charlie was used to the effects of fiery Romanian liquors, the alcohol consumed tonight combined with the camaraderie of his family had led to a pretty interesting evening so far.
The tattoo conversation had begun when George brushed back Angelina's braids to reveal a small trail of stars on the back of her neck, and Ginny had pounced, shooting off a million questions and looking the way she always did when Charlie thought of his baby sister- young and inquisitive, even though she was well out of school and engaged to be married. Her questions had led to some rather revealing conversations, and the more they had gotten into their cups, the more they had learnt about each other.
Or maybe, Charlie wondered, it was the other way around.
He certainly had not wanted to know about the butterfly tattoo that Audrey had just above her arse crack, nor did he have any desire to think about just how much it had hurt when George had had Fred's initials tattooed on the inside of his wrists, and he found himself drinking just a little bit more with each new revelation.
"Charlie?"
He jerked his head up to find everyone staring at him. "What?" He picked up his wineglass and began to drink down the contents.
"You're next," Harry said. "Everyone else has either told their tale or shown off. We want to know about your ink."
Charlie sputtered, spitting his wine back into his glass. "And what makes you think I have any?"
"Oh, come on," Ron said. His face was rosy from all of the alcohol and his arm was around Hermione's shoulders, his fingers drifting a little too far down her chest for Charlie to be comfortable. "You're not going to tell us that you don't have any tattoos."
"Why is that so hard to believe?"
"You let dragons burn your skin for fun," George pointed out. "Excuse us for not believing your dragon shit."
"I don't let them do it for fun," Charlie said, glaring at everyone around the table. "It's a big deal when someone gets any sort of burn. There's all these forms that you have to fill out. You wouldn't believe the parchme-"
"Spare us the Percy-like lecture-" George began.
"Hey," Percy said, but it sounded good-natured to Charlie. Though, Charlie reckoned, that could have been due to the way Audrey was stroking his thigh.
"-because we want to see ink."
"Sorry, mates, but there's nothing to see." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I hate to disappoint you."
"Is it naughty?" Hermione of all people asked, leaning forward across the table to stare up at him with glassy eyes. "Or is it on a private part? Is that why you won't show us?"
"There. Is. Nothing. To. See. And even if there was, while I don't give a damn who sees my naughty bits, your husband might not appreciate you seeing them." Hermione screwed up her face into a pout as she considered this. "And that goes for you, too," Charlie reiterated, pointing at the rest of his sister-in-laws.
"Charlie, they're not going to believe you until you prove it," Bill said, and Charlie wanted to pull out his wand and curse his older brother into a puddle right there at the kitchen table.
"And just how do you expect me to do that?" he asked. "I've already said no to shucking my kit in our mother's kitchen in front of Merlin and everybody. That's a bit much, even for me."
"Could show one of your brothers," Percy said, looking thoughtful. "Mind now, I'm not volunteering."
"I haven't seen your naked arse since you were thirteen years old and I'd rather not see it now," Bill said. "And I don't see anyone else jumping up to volunteer." He cast a wary eye over the table. "Who's related to you by blood."
"Harry could check," George supplied.
"Harry wants to do no such thing, but thanks for asking."
"We didn't ask."
"I don't give a flying fuck whether you asked or not." Harry gave George a two-fingered salute. "I'm not volunteering."
"That won't do any good anyway," Audrey said. She was beginning to slur her words a little bit. "You could always pay off whomever checks. Or you could threaten them. I think you could probably beat up most of your brothers."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence. But the answer is still no. I don't have anything to prove to you-" He almost said 'fuckers', but didn't think his brothers would appreciate him referring to their wives quite like that, "people."
"Oh, I know how we can find out whether Mr. Dragon Burns over here has any kind of ink or if he's lying through his teeth," Angelina said. Everyone's heads swivelled her way, though Charlie noticed a couple of people turning green around the gills with the motion. "We ask his last shag."
"You've been married to George for too long," Charlie muttered under his breath. "That's ridiculous."
Bill grinned. "I think that solves our problem perfectly. But we do have to make sure that it's someone that he's shagged multiple times. Not just a one-off who might have been drunk and wouldn't have had a chance to take a full inventory."
"I am right here. In the room." Bill gave him a blank look. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here."
"You want us to talk to you," Ron said. "Then answer this question. Can you get in touch with the last person you shagged?"
"If she still wants to speak to you, that is," George added.
"Fuck off."
"I'm pretty sure that's what she said, yes," George said. "Now, can you Floo her or not?"
Charlie stared at all of them. His sister-in-laws were looking on with barely concealed delight, not only at the prospect of putting the rumours to rest, but also at the idea- he could just tell- of finally getting to meet someone he was with. His brothers didn't look much less excited than their wives, all except for Bill, who knew everyfuckingthing anyway, and who raised an eyebrow in challenge.
"Fine," he said. "Fine. If it will get you all off my back. You do realise, though, that if Mum finds out that I've been seeing someone, she's never going to lay off me. I might never get to come home again. I might never want to anyway." He said that last sentence under his breath before raising his voice again. "The rest of you can buy Mum and Dad the Floo powder since this is international."
"Small price to pay, little brother."
Charlie took a deep breath, then reached into the flower pot over the mantle. He threw the powder into the fireplace, stuck his head in, and yelled, "Viktor Krum!"
Behind him, he could hear the uproar in his mother's kitchen and prayed that his parents wouldn't wake up. Judging by Ron's cry of, "He's fucking kidding, right?" and Hermione's gleeful, "I knew something was up!" he was going to have a lot of explaining to do. And if he could get it out to his brothers, to his sisters, and to their spouses, then maybe, one day soon, he could figure it out enough to talk to his parents.
It took extra time for his head to travel through the Floo all the way to Bulgaria, and by the time he could see the legs of the sofa in Viktor's flat in Sophia, he had had time to have second thoughts. He could always just modify everyone's memories at the Burrow. It shouldn't be too hard, especially not if he got to Hermione first and made her help him with everyone else. He was just about to turn back when saw Viktor's feet enter the room, and he crouched down beside the fire.
"Charlie? What are you doing here?" He glanced back into the fire behind Charlie, perhaps, Charlie thought, to see if he could see what the ruckus was behind him. "I thought you were at home with your family."
"I am. They have a bet they want to settle regarding my lack of tattoos. It seems they want an expert witness called to the stand, since my word is apparently not enough."
Viktor looked confused for a moment as he took in Charlie's words, then he nodded stiffly. "You want me to come through? It would be nice to speak with your family as I have not seen Hermio-ninny and Fleur and Potter for many years."
"Yes," Charlie said, He felt relief pour through his body at the thought, even though he had been dreading this very thing the entire time he'd been planning his trip back to England, even though he and Viktor had rowed before he'd left, even though he'd said that he wasn't sure we would want to come back to the flat in Sophia, even though he'd said it might be over.
Even though he knew it was his fault.
"Step back then. I will be across in a moment."
"Viktor." There were a thousand words Charlie thought about saying as Viktor stared back down at him, his eyes inscrutable. "Thank you."
"I will be across in a moment," Viktor repeated and left the room as Charlie pulled his head back from the fire.
"Anything you'd like to tell us?" George asked, a grin on his face as Charlie returned to himself in the Burrow's kitchen.
"Nothing you can't infer for yourself."
There was a peaceful quiet around the kitchen as everyone watched for their guest to come in through the Floo, and Charlie wondered if his family wasn't sobering up just when he wanted to get drunker. When Viktor finally did arrive amid a cloud of green flames and Floo powder, there were smiles and handshakes and a few hugs all around, then everyone turned, and merely stared at Charlie.
"Well?" Fleur had been surprisingly silent up until this point, but Charlie figured that was mostly because since Bill
knew everyfuckingthing, Fleur did too. Viktor raised an eyebrow at her.
"Well, what?"
"You seem to be the most reliable source Charlie could find," Audrey said, "to let us know the location of any and all tattoos he may possess."
Viktor nodded, then glanced at Charlie. "They don't believe what I have to say. They wanted to talk to the last person who's seen me without my kit." He could feel Viktor lean just a little closer to him.
"I hope I am still that person."
Charlie took a deep breath, and, trying not to notice the way Hermione had her hands clasped under her chin as she stared up at the two of them, her eyes ricocheting back and forth between them, nodded. "Of course you are." Viktor turned to the room at large.
"Then I think I speak with good faith when I tell you that as of a week ago-"
"Tuesday."
"-that as of Tuesday, Charlie Weasley is a completely blank canvas. Minus the freckles."
Everyone in the kitchen stared at the two of them, until Charlie began to grow more uncomfortable than he had been when he'd been hauled in for questioning the first time. Finally Ron spoke.
"But why?"
"Why what?" Charlie shot back, hearing the dangerous note in his own voice and wishing he hadn't put it in there. Hoping he didn't need to.
"Why don't you have one? Just about everyone else here does. I always figured you would have been the first person in this family to get something like that done."
Viktor began to laugh. "You haven't told them?" Charlie buried his head in his shoulder.
"Fuck. Viktor."
"Yes," he said. "I like that idea. But still, why are you so afraid to tell your family anything? This of all things they will not shun you for."
"You heard him," Charlie said. "I'm supposed to be the one who does things like go out and gets tattooed from head to toe and fucks whatever I can find that moves, not be the one who's afraid of needles and who asks his partner to consider a goddamn bonding ceremony before he properly introduces him to his family."
There was a collective gasp around the room, but Charlie couldn't stop staring at Viktor to see whether or not people were staring at the two of them with starry eyes or whether they were laughing at him. He suspected a little of both.
"So," Viktor said after a moment. "Introduce me to your family, then."
Charlie turned to do so, only to find George and Ron stuffing their knuckles in their mouths to keep from laughing, and Percy, Harry, and Bill shaking their heads in amusement, while their wives glared at them.
"What?"
"This whole thing," Bill began, then seemed to reconsider his words, then said it anyway. "This whole ordeal was because you didn't want us to know that you were afraid of needles?"
Charlie scowled. "Well, when you put it like that."
"No, no." Bill held up his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. "I think it was all for the best. We're thrilled Viktor could join us this evening. But still it just seems like a lot to have to go through to keep an itty-bitty fear under wraps."
"It's not an itty-bitty fear," Charlie protested. He could feel Viktor beside him, shaking with suppressed laughter. "It's not."
"It was almost fifteen years ago, Charlie," Viktor pointed out. "And if you won't tell them, I will."
"Oooh"s and "yes"es and "tell us please"s echoed through the kitchen.
"Fine," Charlie said. "Fine. But if you laugh, I swear to Circe I'll hex every last one of you, got that?"
Everyone nodded, and even though Charlie wasn't convinced, he started his story anyway, still bolstered by the wine he had consumed earlier and the feel of Viktor's fingers on his hip. "Look, when I had been at Hogwarts for six weeks, there was a mini-epidemic of Dragon Pox. I caught it, of course, and immediately felt miserable. So my mates hauled me up and out of bed to see Madam Pomfrey, who had a ward full of sick students and faculty."
Bill nodded. "I remember that. They tried to keep everyone locked away in their houses so it wouldn't spread farther, but it didn't work. Half the people in my year- from every house- caught it." He narrowed his eyes to look at Charlie. "I don't remember you catching it, though."
"Oh, I caught it all right. Something awful. And I'm up to see Madam Pomfrey, who had so many sick people that she had camp beds set up in between the regular hospital beds. And she's so busy that when she comes over to me, she diagnoses me in about a second, then summons the treatment. And it's this huge syringe, with a needle that has to be fifteen centimetres long. She tells me to roll over on my stomach and pull down my trousers, and sticks that needle right into my arse. Burned like a motherfucker, too."
Charlie took a deep breath and shrugged. "Never liked needles since. Can't believe anyone would do that to themselves on purpose."
Title: Belonephobia
Author: wanderhomeagain
Rating: PG-13 for language
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Charlie/Viktor, canon pairings
Prompt: It didn't seem like the day could get any weirder…
Warnings: Language. General lack of smuttyness.
Word Count: 2861
Summary: Charlie Weasley does not have a tattoo. His family wants to get to the bottom of this mystery.
Notes: Now wait! Before you run away! I solemnly swear that I have a method to my madness. A long time ago, in a land far far away, luvscharlie was discussing what would immediately make her hit the back button. One of the items on her list was a Charlie without ink.
I, being the devil's advocate that I am, said that I would be okay with it, as long as the author could come up with a reason why- such as a fear of needles.
So luvscharlie threw down the gauntlet. And I became that author.
So, as written for the first week of fandom_fridays, I give you a tattooless Charlie.
Charlie was pretty sure that they were all drunk. They had to be, because there was no way this evening could get any weirder, so he must have been making some of it up in the haze of alcohol in which he found himself.
If they weren't drunk, Charlie wasn't sure that Bill would be showing off the Fleur-de-Lis tattoo on his arse.
Not that he wouldn't show it off if he were sober
.
He just didn't think that Bill would show it to all of their siblings and their wives while standing on their mother's kitchen table if he weren't drunk. Maybe to his mates- and maybe to the brothers- but not to everyone in the family save his parents.
Nor did he think George would be the voice of reason.
"All right you bloody exhibitionist, get off the table," their younger brother mock-scolded. "Do you want Mum to come down here?"
Bill waggled his arse once more towards his wife- and Charlie noticed, towards Hermione and Audrey, who were eyeing him speculatively- then did up his trousers and jumped down off the table.
"Is it safe to look now? Ginny asked, peeking from between the fingers that she'd put up to her eyes the minute Bill had begun undoing his trousers. Harry pulled her hands from her face completely.
"You're good." Then he raised his wine glass. "Who's next?"
They had met at the Burrow for dinner, an impromptu celebration for Charlie's temporary return home to the UK and Ron's acceptance into the Auror program. Molly was ecstatic to have them all under her roof again and had gone all out with the preparation of the meal, and Arthur pulled out a bottle of Old Ogden's he said he'd been saving for a special occasion. Everyone had brought a bottle of wine to help celebrate, and even though Charlie was used to the effects of fiery Romanian liquors, the alcohol consumed tonight combined with the camaraderie of his family had led to a pretty interesting evening so far.
The tattoo conversation had begun when George brushed back Angelina's braids to reveal a small trail of stars on the back of her neck, and Ginny had pounced, shooting off a million questions and looking the way she always did when Charlie thought of his baby sister- young and inquisitive, even though she was well out of school and engaged to be married. Her questions had led to some rather revealing conversations, and the more they had gotten into their cups, the more they had learnt about each other.
Or maybe, Charlie wondered, it was the other way around.
He certainly had not wanted to know about the butterfly tattoo that Audrey had just above her arse crack, nor did he have any desire to think about just how much it had hurt when George had had Fred's initials tattooed on the inside of his wrists, and he found himself drinking just a little bit more with each new revelation.
"Charlie?"
He jerked his head up to find everyone staring at him. "What?" He picked up his wineglass and began to drink down the contents.
"You're next," Harry said. "Everyone else has either told their tale or shown off. We want to know about your ink."
Charlie sputtered, spitting his wine back into his glass. "And what makes you think I have any?"
"Oh, come on," Ron said. His face was rosy from all of the alcohol and his arm was around Hermione's shoulders, his fingers drifting a little too far down her chest for Charlie to be comfortable. "You're not going to tell us that you don't have any tattoos."
"Why is that so hard to believe?"
"You let dragons burn your skin for fun," George pointed out. "Excuse us for not believing your dragon shit."
"I don't let them do it for fun," Charlie said, glaring at everyone around the table. "It's a big deal when someone gets any sort of burn. There's all these forms that you have to fill out. You wouldn't believe the parchme-"
"Spare us the Percy-like lecture-" George began.
"Hey," Percy said, but it sounded good-natured to Charlie. Though, Charlie reckoned, that could have been due to the way Audrey was stroking his thigh.
"-because we want to see ink."
"Sorry, mates, but there's nothing to see." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I hate to disappoint you."
"Is it naughty?" Hermione of all people asked, leaning forward across the table to stare up at him with glassy eyes. "Or is it on a private part? Is that why you won't show us?"
"There. Is. Nothing. To. See. And even if there was, while I don't give a damn who sees my naughty bits, your husband might not appreciate you seeing them." Hermione screwed up her face into a pout as she considered this. "And that goes for you, too," Charlie reiterated, pointing at the rest of his sister-in-laws.
"Charlie, they're not going to believe you until you prove it," Bill said, and Charlie wanted to pull out his wand and curse his older brother into a puddle right there at the kitchen table.
"And just how do you expect me to do that?" he asked. "I've already said no to shucking my kit in our mother's kitchen in front of Merlin and everybody. That's a bit much, even for me."
"Could show one of your brothers," Percy said, looking thoughtful. "Mind now, I'm not volunteering."
"I haven't seen your naked arse since you were thirteen years old and I'd rather not see it now," Bill said. "And I don't see anyone else jumping up to volunteer." He cast a wary eye over the table. "Who's related to you by blood."
"Harry could check," George supplied.
"Harry wants to do no such thing, but thanks for asking."
"We didn't ask."
"I don't give a flying fuck whether you asked or not." Harry gave George a two-fingered salute. "I'm not volunteering."
"That won't do any good anyway," Audrey said. She was beginning to slur her words a little bit. "You could always pay off whomever checks. Or you could threaten them. I think you could probably beat up most of your brothers."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence. But the answer is still no. I don't have anything to prove to you-" He almost said 'fuckers', but didn't think his brothers would appreciate him referring to their wives quite like that, "people."
"Oh, I know how we can find out whether Mr. Dragon Burns over here has any kind of ink or if he's lying through his teeth," Angelina said. Everyone's heads swivelled her way, though Charlie noticed a couple of people turning green around the gills with the motion. "We ask his last shag."
"You've been married to George for too long," Charlie muttered under his breath. "That's ridiculous."
Bill grinned. "I think that solves our problem perfectly. But we do have to make sure that it's someone that he's shagged multiple times. Not just a one-off who might have been drunk and wouldn't have had a chance to take a full inventory."
"I am right here. In the room." Bill gave him a blank look. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here."
"You want us to talk to you," Ron said. "Then answer this question. Can you get in touch with the last person you shagged?"
"If she still wants to speak to you, that is," George added.
"Fuck off."
"I'm pretty sure that's what she said, yes," George said. "Now, can you Floo her or not?"
Charlie stared at all of them. His sister-in-laws were looking on with barely concealed delight, not only at the prospect of putting the rumours to rest, but also at the idea- he could just tell- of finally getting to meet someone he was with. His brothers didn't look much less excited than their wives, all except for Bill, who knew everyfuckingthing anyway, and who raised an eyebrow in challenge.
"Fine," he said. "Fine. If it will get you all off my back. You do realise, though, that if Mum finds out that I've been seeing someone, she's never going to lay off me. I might never get to come home again. I might never want to anyway." He said that last sentence under his breath before raising his voice again. "The rest of you can buy Mum and Dad the Floo powder since this is international."
"Small price to pay, little brother."
Charlie took a deep breath, then reached into the flower pot over the mantle. He threw the powder into the fireplace, stuck his head in, and yelled, "Viktor Krum!"
Behind him, he could hear the uproar in his mother's kitchen and prayed that his parents wouldn't wake up. Judging by Ron's cry of, "He's fucking kidding, right?" and Hermione's gleeful, "I knew something was up!" he was going to have a lot of explaining to do. And if he could get it out to his brothers, to his sisters, and to their spouses, then maybe, one day soon, he could figure it out enough to talk to his parents.
It took extra time for his head to travel through the Floo all the way to Bulgaria, and by the time he could see the legs of the sofa in Viktor's flat in Sophia, he had had time to have second thoughts. He could always just modify everyone's memories at the Burrow. It shouldn't be too hard, especially not if he got to Hermione first and made her help him with everyone else. He was just about to turn back when saw Viktor's feet enter the room, and he crouched down beside the fire.
"Charlie? What are you doing here?" He glanced back into the fire behind Charlie, perhaps, Charlie thought, to see if he could see what the ruckus was behind him. "I thought you were at home with your family."
"I am. They have a bet they want to settle regarding my lack of tattoos. It seems they want an expert witness called to the stand, since my word is apparently not enough."
Viktor looked confused for a moment as he took in Charlie's words, then he nodded stiffly. "You want me to come through? It would be nice to speak with your family as I have not seen Hermio-ninny and Fleur and Potter for many years."
"Yes," Charlie said, He felt relief pour through his body at the thought, even though he had been dreading this very thing the entire time he'd been planning his trip back to England, even though he and Viktor had rowed before he'd left, even though he'd said that he wasn't sure we would want to come back to the flat in Sophia, even though he'd said it might be over.
Even though he knew it was his fault.
"Step back then. I will be across in a moment."
"Viktor." There were a thousand words Charlie thought about saying as Viktor stared back down at him, his eyes inscrutable. "Thank you."
"I will be across in a moment," Viktor repeated and left the room as Charlie pulled his head back from the fire.
"Anything you'd like to tell us?" George asked, a grin on his face as Charlie returned to himself in the Burrow's kitchen.
"Nothing you can't infer for yourself."
There was a peaceful quiet around the kitchen as everyone watched for their guest to come in through the Floo, and Charlie wondered if his family wasn't sobering up just when he wanted to get drunker. When Viktor finally did arrive amid a cloud of green flames and Floo powder, there were smiles and handshakes and a few hugs all around, then everyone turned, and merely stared at Charlie.
"Well?" Fleur had been surprisingly silent up until this point, but Charlie figured that was mostly because since Bill
knew everyfuckingthing, Fleur did too. Viktor raised an eyebrow at her.
"Well, what?"
"You seem to be the most reliable source Charlie could find," Audrey said, "to let us know the location of any and all tattoos he may possess."
Viktor nodded, then glanced at Charlie. "They don't believe what I have to say. They wanted to talk to the last person who's seen me without my kit." He could feel Viktor lean just a little closer to him.
"I hope I am still that person."
Charlie took a deep breath, and, trying not to notice the way Hermione had her hands clasped under her chin as she stared up at the two of them, her eyes ricocheting back and forth between them, nodded. "Of course you are." Viktor turned to the room at large.
"Then I think I speak with good faith when I tell you that as of a week ago-"
"Tuesday."
"-that as of Tuesday, Charlie Weasley is a completely blank canvas. Minus the freckles."
Everyone in the kitchen stared at the two of them, until Charlie began to grow more uncomfortable than he had been when he'd been hauled in for questioning the first time. Finally Ron spoke.
"But why?"
"Why what?" Charlie shot back, hearing the dangerous note in his own voice and wishing he hadn't put it in there. Hoping he didn't need to.
"Why don't you have one? Just about everyone else here does. I always figured you would have been the first person in this family to get something like that done."
Viktor began to laugh. "You haven't told them?" Charlie buried his head in his shoulder.
"Fuck. Viktor."
"Yes," he said. "I like that idea. But still, why are you so afraid to tell your family anything? This of all things they will not shun you for."
"You heard him," Charlie said. "I'm supposed to be the one who does things like go out and gets tattooed from head to toe and fucks whatever I can find that moves, not be the one who's afraid of needles and who asks his partner to consider a goddamn bonding ceremony before he properly introduces him to his family."
There was a collective gasp around the room, but Charlie couldn't stop staring at Viktor to see whether or not people were staring at the two of them with starry eyes or whether they were laughing at him. He suspected a little of both.
"So," Viktor said after a moment. "Introduce me to your family, then."
Charlie turned to do so, only to find George and Ron stuffing their knuckles in their mouths to keep from laughing, and Percy, Harry, and Bill shaking their heads in amusement, while their wives glared at them.
"What?"
"This whole thing," Bill began, then seemed to reconsider his words, then said it anyway. "This whole ordeal was because you didn't want us to know that you were afraid of needles?"
Charlie scowled. "Well, when you put it like that."
"No, no." Bill held up his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. "I think it was all for the best. We're thrilled Viktor could join us this evening. But still it just seems like a lot to have to go through to keep an itty-bitty fear under wraps."
"It's not an itty-bitty fear," Charlie protested. He could feel Viktor beside him, shaking with suppressed laughter. "It's not."
"It was almost fifteen years ago, Charlie," Viktor pointed out. "And if you won't tell them, I will."
"Oooh"s and "yes"es and "tell us please"s echoed through the kitchen.
"Fine," Charlie said. "Fine. But if you laugh, I swear to Circe I'll hex every last one of you, got that?"
Everyone nodded, and even though Charlie wasn't convinced, he started his story anyway, still bolstered by the wine he had consumed earlier and the feel of Viktor's fingers on his hip. "Look, when I had been at Hogwarts for six weeks, there was a mini-epidemic of Dragon Pox. I caught it, of course, and immediately felt miserable. So my mates hauled me up and out of bed to see Madam Pomfrey, who had a ward full of sick students and faculty."
Bill nodded. "I remember that. They tried to keep everyone locked away in their houses so it wouldn't spread farther, but it didn't work. Half the people in my year- from every house- caught it." He narrowed his eyes to look at Charlie. "I don't remember you catching it, though."
"Oh, I caught it all right. Something awful. And I'm up to see Madam Pomfrey, who had so many sick people that she had camp beds set up in between the regular hospital beds. And she's so busy that when she comes over to me, she diagnoses me in about a second, then summons the treatment. And it's this huge syringe, with a needle that has to be fifteen centimetres long. She tells me to roll over on my stomach and pull down my trousers, and sticks that needle right into my arse. Burned like a motherfucker, too."
Charlie took a deep breath and shrugged. "Never liked needles since. Can't believe anyone would do that to themselves on purpose."