Don't Think I Can Fight This Anymore

Dear Charlie,

Really, stop apologizing about bringing me to your parent’s on Easter. It wasn’t like I had other plans, or didn’t know everyone already. I love your family. You know that.

Sherlock and I went for a nice walk around Hyde Park today. Ge got a lot of attention from strangers for being sweet and patient. Obviously this was after he had his coffee.

I bet by now you’d told all of your friends about our motorcycle adventure. Don’t worry, next time you come home we’ll go again.

I miss you already.

Yours,
Evelyn

~*~

The tea room had been slow that day, so Evelyn was all done and the shop closed up by six. Evelyn sat in Sylvia’s store and let her braid lavender stalks into her hair. Sylvia had a slow day too.

“So.” Evelyn said, wincing as Sylvia pulled her hair a little too hard. “How are you and George working out?”

Sylvia smiled faintly. “We’re good. There’s a lot for us to work through. But we lost so much time. Thing about being dead is, you realize what’s important.”

Evelyn thought about Sylvia, and how terribly brave she had been. Trading places with her identical twin sister with the intention of saving her life. She had been captured and kept as a plaything by Bellatrix Lestrange, and the awful scar on her cheek served as a reminder of that.

Evelyn had never even told George this, but it was the 445th that had searched Malfoy Manor hours after Voldemort’s fall. And it was Evelyn who had found Sylvia locked in a wine cellar.

“Alright, alright, Master Yoda.” Evelyn smiled. “No need to be so wise.”

“Master who?”

Evelyn sighed. “Nevermind. What do you have to work through?”

“Well, I was dead, for starters.” Sylvia said, picking up another long lavender stalk. “I didn’t tell him about me and Matilda switching places. He’s lost a lot too. I’m just happy Ron’s quitting the Auror department to help George at the shop.”

“Really?” she asked, turning to look at the blonde. “I thought he liked it there.”

Sylvia firmly turned Evelyn’s head back to the position it had been in. “He does. But I think he’s had enough. Ron’s been through everything with Harry but he wants a quiet life. And with his wedding coming up and trying to start a family...he can make more money, honestly.”

Evelyn hummed in agreement.

“How’s Charlie?”

Evelyn glanced at the letter sitting at the top of her purse, bearing her name in perfect print. It had arrived today during service. Every letter that arrived from him was longer and more intimate than the last. Her heart skipped a beat each time she got one. He was thinking of her.

“He’s good.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes and started tying off the braid with a purple ribbon. “Well, I’m glad you found someone. George says you’ve been more or less celibate - “

“Goes to show what he knows.” Evelyn muttered grumpily.

“- and you haven’t connected with anyone since the war. This is the next step.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I’ve got my life back together. I don’t need a boyfriend to prove that.”

Sylvia sighed. “Evs, I had to put my life back together. You had to start over completely. No, you don’t need a relationship to prove that. But you need connections.”

“What if the old one won’t let me go?”

“Then you aren’t ready yet.”

The door opened and George walked in. “Opening a salon, are we?”

“I thought we could do weddings.” Sylvia smiled brightly. “Hold on, I’ve gotta grab something.”

Evelyn and George were awkwardly silent. George was her best friend. But in the past few months, things had been different.

“I’m sorry.” Evelyn blurted out.

George rose his eyebrows at her. “What did you do now?”

“I’m sorry it had be be your brother.”

“Okay, now you’ve gone mad. What are you talking about?”

“I feel like you’re mad at me. Or something. Because of Charlie.”

“You’re such a girl.” George grumbled. “You’re overthinking this.”

“Am not!” Evelyn snapped, mildly offended. “You’re the one who gets all judgmental when he’s here.”

“He’s my brother.” George said with emphasis. “And you’re my best friend, Evs. I don’t know if I’m more worried that he’s going to hurt you or the number of pieces I’ll have to put in a box for Mum when he does.”

“How are you so sure that he’ll hurt me? Why can’t I hurt him?”

“Because, he’s my brother. I always think the worst of him.”

“Well, I’ll try to keep the number of pieces to under ten.” She muttered, rolling her eyes.

George chuckled and gave her a half hug. “That’s my girl. Sides, i get it. He trains dragons. I mean, he’s not the sharpest quill in the box but - “

“Says the man who asked for a fart potion.” Sylvia said irritably, walking back in with a polaroid camera in hand.

Evelyn scowled at George. “You are such a boy.”

“Alright, Evelyn, let me take your picture.” Sylvia said, waving her camera.

“Awh, come on, Syl. I don’t photograph well.”

“I didn’t spend all that time on your bloody hair for nothing!”

Evelyn sighed and gave Sylvia a small, awkward smile. Then she laughed when George stood behind Sylvia and pulled goofy faces, like he was trying to get a small child to smile for the camera. Sylvia took a few photos in rapid succession, and the camera let off purple smoke as the photos instantly developed.

Sylvia flicked through the photos. Evelyn’s smile when she laughed was probably the most genuine expression on her face. “Very nice.” Sylvia said, trying to decide which one to send to Charlie. He needed one of these.

“Alright, I should get back soon.” George said, looking at Sylvia. “I just wanted to ask, what are we doing tonight?”

Sylvia shrugged. “I was going to make dinner. Alicia’s coming by. You’re welcome to join.”

Evelyn slipped out of the shop and went upstairs. She pulled the letter from her purse and read it again as she meandered into her apartment. She sat on the couch and Sherlock jumped up and lolled across her lap. Evelyn scratched his belly, then put aside her letter and started undoing her braid and carefully picking out the lavender. She’d never get the smell out of her hair.

~*~

“So, who is she?”

Charlie glanced up from the finch he was doodling on a scrap of parchment. His best friend and coworker was studying him, looking amused.

“Who?”

Nate Cress was a big, blue eyed blonde from Texas. He was the kind of guy who was never seen without a hat on. He grew up the son of a bullfighter, and probably had more scars from that than from the dragons he and Charlie worked with.

“The girl that has you running back to England every few weeks.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and crumpled up the finch.

“I saw you put in to trade rotations to have the second weekend of May off.”

“Family gathering.”

“You never go to those.”

Charlie went back to the sketch of the Chinese Fireball’s injury that he was supposed to be working on. He had always liked drawing. He was good at it.

He wanted to draw Evelyn. Capture her smooth skin and sparkling eyes. The tightly wound monster lurking below the surface. But he knew she’d never lie still enough. She was always in motion. He knew that she was afraid to stop, because if she did she might start going backwards.

“Well, she’s very pretty.” Nate mused, looking at the polaroid of the brunette. She laughed at him and it reached her eyes. “Not your usual type, though.”

Charlie looked at him, alarmed. He had just received that from Sylvia today. “How did you get that?”

“Swiped it from your desk.” He grinned like a child who had just been given an entire box of chocolate. “So, what’s her name?”

Charlie sighed and gave up. “Evelyn.”

“How’d you meet her?”

“She’s friends with my brother.”

“Hm.” Nate finally handed back the photo. “Well, I’m glad. Someone had to catch your eye at some point. I was worried it would be me.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“Weasley, letter.” Patricia, the clerk for the dragon habitat said, walking by and dropping a letter on his desk. Nate smiled and winked at her, and she rolled her eyes and kept walking.

Charlie reached for it and instantly recognized Evelyn’s messy cursive. He smiled slightly as he opened it and started reading. Nate sighed and went back to his own work.

~*~

Evelyn found herself back at The Burrow much sooner than she had expected, this time on account of George’s birthday. Because she had to work through the day, she arrived too late to play Quidditch, but instead she sat herself down at Molly’s kitchen table and started to help her and Fleur cook.

“You really don’t have to, Evelyn.” Molly said for the millionth time.

“I want to.” Evelyn insisted, pouring heavy cream into a bowl of potatoes, then putting a hand held masher to work. “Really Molly, this is the sixth time you’ve had me over. Let me help.”

Molly pulled the bread out of the oven and directed Fleur in beginning to layer the two large shepherd's pies they were making. A large chocolate cake was sitting on the ice box. Molly had cried for half the morning when she realized she had started to write Happy Birthday Fred and George on it.

“Where did you learn how to cook?” Molly asked.

“When I was growing up, I took care of my younger brother for the most part.” Evelyn shrugged. “And then I worked in muggle restaurants when I was off from school as a teenager. I picked up a few things, I guess.”

“Where were your parents?”

“Working.”

Molly had an inkling that her response wasn’t the whole truth, but she didn’t push it. Evelyn helped Fleur spread the potatoes on top of the shephard’s pies and move them into the oven.

Fleur glanced at the door to the sitting room, where Victoire was supposedly playing quietly. “Eet ees too quiet.” she announced, leaving.

Molly glanced out the windows and sat down. “They better come in soon. It’s getting dark.”

Evelyn smiled. “Quidditch in the dark is the best.”

“One year, Ginny woke me up in the middle of the night because all the boys had gotten out of bed and gone out to play in the dead of night. Oh, I could have killed the twins. Charlie’s idea, of course, but the twins put it in action.”

Evelyn laughed. “And Ginny?”

“They wouldn’t let her play, so she told on them.” Molly shook her head. “Which was good, because she could have gotten seriously hurt. Then of course they really didn’t let her play, so she started breaking into the broom shed.”

“Must have been interesting here, with so many kids.”

“It was a long twenty years before Ginny got off to school, I’ll tell you that.” She sighed. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” Now she laughed. “One year, I think it was George’s birthday - “

“Telling all the embarrassing stories, Mum?” Bill asked, trooping in with Harry, Ron, Ginny, George, a disgruntled Percy, and spectators Sylvia and Hermione.

“Well, she hasn’t heard them yet.”

George looked to Sylvia. “Have you - “

“Oh, yes.” she grinned. “All of them. Including the one about the boils.”

Ron snorted. “That is a good one.”

Molly shook her head and watched them all file through to the sitting room. “It was a good twenty years.” she muttered, twirling her engagement ring around her finger.

“Fitting for a beautiful ring.” Evelyn said. “I’ve never noticed it before.”

“Oh, I hardly ever wear it.” Molly sighed, looking at her hands. The gold claggagh ring with a red ruby in place of the heart rested perfectly on her finger. “I cook so often, it gets dirty. It’s been in Arthur’s family for centuries.”

Evelyn smiled. Molly really was extraordinary in her own way. Evelyn’s own mother was nothing compared to her.

Evelyn felt a pang of guilt when she realized she hadn’t written her mother at all in the last month. She stood and looked at the photos hanging on the walls. She smiled at a collection of seven ginger babies waving fists and grinning at her without teeth. There were several years of red and gold clad quidditch teams. A family photo in Egypt. Many Christmases. Molly, Arthur, Bill and Fleur smiling and waving at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Ron and Harry grinned for her. Fred and George opened the doors to their shop.

In all of that, there was one hand drawn picture, depicting all seven children standing together. Percy looked irritated, Bill looked mildly amused, the twins teased a gangly Ron, Ginny was hiding something behind her back, and Charlie looked into the distance, not paying attention to any of them.

“Charlie drew that.” Molly said, opening the oven and peaking inside. “When he was fifteen.”

“I never knew he could draw.”

“He always was a natural at it.” she said, crossing the room to the sitting room. “Helps with his job, now, I guess. I’ve got a ton of his artwork. I’ll show you sometime. Dinner, you lot.”

There was a great movement of people through the door to the sitting room. Evelyn waved her wand in a sweeping arc and plates and cutlery soared onto the table. George led the pack with Victoire sitting on his shoulders, Fleur running along behind nervously. Everyone settled into chairs and Evelyn was surprised to find herself sitting next to Bill.

Bill had always liked Evelyn. He had met her during the war, but she rarely appeared at Order meetings. Back then, her eyes were hard like diamonds and she jumped into fights without a second thought. He hadn’t believed at first that she was the fiercest warrior Canada could offer, but seeing her in action changed his mind. Besides, he had learnt when he was sixteen and sat on Ginny’s doll and almost gotten his teeth kicked in. Size was no guarantee of power.

But now she had healed a bit. She laughed easily and enjoyed life. She had a thirst for adventure. She was so much like Charlie in that way. Bill had to kick himself for not seeing it sooner.

“So.” Bill said quietly. “How many horrible things did Mum manage to tell you?”

Evelyn smiled.”Just about how everyone was so mad at Ginny when all she wanted to do was play with her big brothers.”

“There’s a lot of stories that end like that.”

Evelyn helped herself to some sheppard’s pie and passed the dish to Bill. He grimaced at the fully cooked meat but took a decent sized helping anyway. He helped Victoire take a small helping and looked pointedly at his wife when he saw she had even less food on her plate.

“How’s Charlie?” Bill asked Evelyn. “I’m sure you hear from him more than the rest of us.”

“He’s good. I guess he’s working with an injured nesting mother right now. Dangerous, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Bill snorted. “No, he wouldn’t. But, I guess we’re all a little like that. Cept maybe Perce.”

Evelyn smiled and ate some of her food.

“Mum thinks you’re going to get him to move back here.”

Evelyn choked on her food and Bill quickly thumped her on the back. “You alright?”

“Yes.” she said hoarsely.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry.”

She shook her head. “What do you think?”

“Me?”

“He’s closer to you than the others.”

Bill studied her for a moment. She looked curious for his opinion, but not the outcome.

“I think Charlie’s a romantic. Always has been. He gets it from Mum. That said, he loves those bloody dragons too much to leave them.”

Evelyn smiled, relieved. She didn’t want to tear up anyone’s life.

“Evelyn.” Arthur called down the table, taking her attention away from the eldest Weasley sibling. “Charlie tells me you own a motorbike?”

~*~

April brought hockey playoffs, even in London. Evelyn and Ian abandoned their card games to sit in a muggle pub owned by a Canadian to watch the games. But as the month dragged on, Evelyn found herself closer and closer to a day she didn’t want to remember.

May 3rd came, and an entire country was silent with grief.

George and his siblings went to visit Fred, and George stood there in silence a long time after they left.

Sylvia sat on her childhood bed and stared at her twin’s side of the room, tears rolling down her scarred face.

Harry and Hermione sat quietly in his apartment, not saying a word. When Ron and Ginny came back from the cemetery, they joined Neville, Luna, and other members of the DA at the leaky Cauldron.

Molly didn't even get out of bed.

Andromeda Tonks took Teddy to visit his parents, and went on a long walk with him, trying to hold herself together so he could play.

In Romania, Charlie sat outside and watched a mother dragon guarding her eggs. No one spoke to him, not even Nate. He turned over a family photo in his hands.

Tessera and Colin Burke sat with a small white pregnancy stick between them. It was positive, but they felt guilty in their joy.

In Kuwait City, trip stared at the ceiling blankly while his girlfriend slept soundly next to him.

In Alberta, Quinn Tracy sat in the corner and sobbed, covering his ears against the screams he still heard. Each time he closed his eyes, Frank Jones stared at him.

Evelyn and Ian sat in a muggle pub with an entire bottle of whiskey between them. They didn't speak.

Finally, when half the bottle was gone, she asked, “Why them? Why not us?”

Ian put his hand over hers, a fatherly gesture, and tears that were three years too late rolled down Evelyn face.