Promises

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When he was younger, right out of Hogwarts, Charlie had chosen an apprenticeship as far from the Burrow and his overbearing Mum as possible. He’d wanted a chance to be on his own, to simply be Charlie and not ‘one of the Weasleys’. In Romania, no one knew his family. He didn’t have to live every day being compared to his older brother. He loved Bill, more than life, but Bill was bloody perfect, and there was only so much he could take of always being second best.

Your brother is Head Boy, Charlie. Why can’t you focus more on your studies instead of that silly game? Being captain of the team won’t mean a knut once you’re taking Newts. Why can‘t you a more responsible job? Taking care of dragons? Really, Charlie, that‘s very well-meaning but you could do so much more. Look at your brothers. Bill is working for Gringotts and doing so well. And Percy is at the Ministry with such a hopeful future. Even the twins are making a name for themselves with their joke shop. And all you do is take care of those frightening animals.

He knew his mum meant well, but she didn’t understand. None of them understood. He was good at his job. No, he was great. It was something he did well, did better than nearly anyone at the reserve, and he didn’t have constant comparisons that found himself lacking. He had ‘the touch’, something not many possessed. He might not make a lot of money, might not have prestige and a title, might not have a future full of promising promotions, but he loved his job so why couldn’t his mum understand and accept that?

He risked his life every day, had burns covering a majority of his body at any give time, often collapsed into bed at the end of the day with sore shoulders and worn muscles, had a social life that consisted of talking to his dragons with an occasional flight to a nearby large Muggle town for an anonymous sexual encounter with a willing bird who wanted nothing more than a shag because most women wouldn’t understand his commitment to his job or the fact that his dragons would most likely always come first, and he didn’t care about these sacrifices because he had found the place where he belonged.

Looking at the invitation to come home for the holidays, he remembered the last time. Mum unconsciously belittling him because of his job choice, Dad trying to be supportive without knowing a bloody thing about what he really did because he’d never bothered asking, tolerating Bill’s sheepish ‘I’m sorry, mate’ smiles, and the awkwardness of Ron reliving his Quidditch feats despite those being years ago. The War was getting worse. He’d been working from sunrise to sunset, training new dragons, trying to get them ready for battle if necessary, knowing there was a chance that any day he might receive an owl from the Ministry needing him and his dragons.

He knew he should go home to see his family. He loved them all, considered them the greatest part of himself, and he’d vowed as a youngster that he’d always take care of them. The dragons needed trained. There were still a dozen who were a bit wild, that kept tossing anyone but him when they tried to ride, and even a week to go home was seven days that they’d not be closer to ready should War call. His family wouldn’t miss him, not really, and he could do far more here to save them. After all, he’d made a promise to protect them and he always kept his promises.