RP: A mother's love is patient...
Date: June 28 1998
Characters: Charlie Weasley, Molly Weasley
Location: The Burrow
Status: Private
Summary: Charlie returns home drunk and melancholy, and finds the kitchen not so empty as he previously hoped.
Completion: Complete.
Charlie was quite relieved not to have splinched himself twelve ways from Sunday upon landing. He did, however, fall over in the wet grass, and throw up behind the roses. It had been a long time since he'd drunk so much that he'd actually felt the effects of the alcohol. Tonight, however, he felt it well needed. He didn't think he'd have been able to survive it without the alcohol dulling the sensation of pain.
He was usually much better at holding it, but when he stood up, he almost fell straight over again. He walked in not-a-straight-line to the kitchen door and pushed it open, peering inside, closing it behind him as quietly as he could manage. The sound still reverberated noisily around his head.
He'd just have a glass of water to help with his morning headache before he crept up to bed, he decided. Hopefully everyone was still asleep, and he could get away with it.
With effort he made his way over towards the jug, but failed at keeping his line, and tripped over the leg of a chair, sending himself clattering to the ground. Nobody could possibly believe that he had survived dragon related danger when he looked like this, surely. He dragged himself back up, feeling utterly wretched, and hoping that nobody had heard him. He didn't think that he could take it.
He was at breaking point. A single word could set him off. And that would be embarassment that he couldn't live down.
Characters: Charlie Weasley, Molly Weasley
Location: The Burrow
Status: Private
Summary: Charlie returns home drunk and melancholy, and finds the kitchen not so empty as he previously hoped.
Completion: Complete.
Charlie was quite relieved not to have splinched himself twelve ways from Sunday upon landing. He did, however, fall over in the wet grass, and throw up behind the roses. It had been a long time since he'd drunk so much that he'd actually felt the effects of the alcohol. Tonight, however, he felt it well needed. He didn't think he'd have been able to survive it without the alcohol dulling the sensation of pain.
He was usually much better at holding it, but when he stood up, he almost fell straight over again. He walked in not-a-straight-line to the kitchen door and pushed it open, peering inside, closing it behind him as quietly as he could manage. The sound still reverberated noisily around his head.
He'd just have a glass of water to help with his morning headache before he crept up to bed, he decided. Hopefully everyone was still asleep, and he could get away with it.
With effort he made his way over towards the jug, but failed at keeping his line, and tripped over the leg of a chair, sending himself clattering to the ground. Nobody could possibly believe that he had survived dragon related danger when he looked like this, surely. He dragged himself back up, feeling utterly wretched, and hoping that nobody had heard him. He didn't think that he could take it.
He was at breaking point. A single word could set him off. And that would be embarassment that he couldn't live down.