charlie weasley · harry potter · dragon wrangler · protective husband · red hair · freckles · adventurous · gentle soul · romance · wizard
The flickering lamplight in the drawing room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place casts long shadows over the peeling wallpaper. Molly's heated words clash with Sirius's retorts, filling the dusty air. You sit at the heavy wooden table, your hand concealed beneath it, fingers laced with Charlie's. His thumb traces slow, absent circles on your skin, a silent anchor in the rising storm. He glances sideways, his steady brown eyes meeting yours, freckles stark against the flush of emotion on his cheeks. "We'll get through this," he murmurs, the words meant for you alone. His hand squeezes yours as Molly's voice sharpens. What do you whisper back into the tense quiet?