Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author: littleblackbow
Recipient: mindabbles
Title: The Ward
Rating: Hard R
Pairing(s): Harry/Charlie
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Harry is going blind. Ron and Hermione need to find the Grangers. They ask Charlie to stay with Harry while they're gone.
Warnings: *Suggestion of Character Death*
Word Count: ~9,000
Author's Notes: This was hard to write, but as soon as I saw your prompts, the story just popped into my head. I'd been tossing around some of these ideas for a while, so THANK YOU for giving me an opportunity to express them! Thanks to my betas, you know who you are! You guys are the bestest!!!



Six days after Voldemort was defeated, Harry Potter was almost completely blind.

His eyesight started failing him shortly after the last battle, but he just wrote it off to the magical backlash, or some side-effect of stress and being around so much dark magic all the time. However, by the time Ron and Hermione came to talk to him about going to look for Hermione's parents, he could only see faint glimmers of the brightest light.

"We're not leaving you."

"Hermione, it will be alright. Really. You need to make sure your parents are okay. After all we've been through, you know that I can manage. I always do."

"Harry, how're you going to manage if you can't see a bloody thing?" Ron asked. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"Kreacher can help me. I'm sure it's only temporary, anyway. And I have an appointment to see a healer on Tuesday. Maybe they can find out what's wrong with my eyes. Maybe I just need new glasses?"

"Harry, we're not leaving you here alone."

"What about Charlie?" Ron asked, looking over at Hermione. "He's still in town, and will be for the next couple of months. And Mum's making him mental, she is."

"Why can't you stay with him, Ron?"

"And leave you to go off to Australia alone? You heard what Harry said, there might be Dark Wizards there! I'm not leaving you to them!"

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Charlie's a great idea. There's plenty of room here, and I've hardly had a chance to talk to him, anyway. "

Truth be told, if he hadn't done such a horrible job of breaking up with Ginny, he might have asked if she could stay with him. She was one of his best friends, and would have been great fun to have around. But they both needed their space right now, and apparently hers was spending the summer helping her mother in the house while sneaking off to train with the Holyhead Harpies on the weekends.

"Do you mind asking him, Ron?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Charlie had only been to 12 Grimmauld place once, as he recalled. And he'd never been further than the foyer, hall, and parlour. He really hadn't expected the house to be this big! There were four levels to the main part of the house, and then a double-cellar, one side being a Roman bath, and the other side a fully-stocked wine cellar. And the attic. Charlie wasn't sure he wanted to know what was up there.

After Ron and Hermione gave him the grand tour of the house (while Harry sat in the parlour listening to the wireless), they stopped at Charlie's bedroom – formerly Sirius' bedroom.

"Take care of him while we're gone. I really don't want to leave him, but we can't really take him with us, and—"

"Don't worry," Charlie said. "You go find your parents. Ron, you take care, too; and if anything happens, I'll send an owl."

Charlie unpacked his things and then headed back downstairs to the parlour. "Hello, Harry."

Harry sat there in the silence for a few moments. "Are they gone yet?"

"Yeah, they just left. They're going back to the burrow, and then it's a series of Portkey jumps back to Perth."

Letting out a long sigh, Harry relaxed and smiled. "Good. They need to do this, and not worry about me. I mean, it's just my eyesight – not really any different from when my glasses were broken and I couldn't wear them, if you think about it."

"I know you're not an invalid, Harry. Still, I can't imagine that Kreacher would offer you much entertainment while you're here."

Harry laughed. "No, for all the things he's good for, entertaining is not his forte. And I don't mind being your ward. As wardens go, I think after tending to all of those dragons, you'll find me much more agreeable."

Charlie found himself fidgeting nervously. He'd, of course, met Harry Potter before, but as well as he knew Hermione, he realized he'd never really sat down and talked to Harry as a peer. As his brother's best friend. As the saviour of the Wizarding World.

"So, I hear you're a fine seeker?"

Harry sat silent for a few moments. "I was, yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

Harry shifted his position and turned off the wireless. "Tell me about yourself. I only know what Ron's told me. You've got a talent for dealing with magical creatures. Have you met Buckbeak?"

"Oh, yeah, animals are brilliant. I- I don't know how to explain it sometimes. It's just the intelligence behind the eyes of the unicorns, or the cleverness of Merpeople. And dragons. To have that sort of power and yet so much control – did you know that a dragon is able to pinpoint its flames down to the size of a knut? Trained, and given enough time and inclination, they can be very skilled with both their breath and claws."

Harry listened raptly. Charlie relaxed. It was, perhaps, the most enjoyable evening Charlie had spent since he came back to England.

That is, until…

"So, tell me why you haven't married yet? I suspect your mother would have picked someone out for you already, if you hadn't found someone. I mean… you're here, staying with me rather than—"

Charlie laughed. "Oh, hah. I'm gay. Oh, yeah, you didn't know that. Well, although the laws here allow for it, it's still frowned upon in Wizarding society, so I just haven't—"

Harry looked confused. "I thought Percy…"

"He does seem the type, doesn't he? No, I was the one who got this peculiar personality trait. I don't think it's much of a problem, really. I mean, with Bill and Fleur, she's probably already expecting, and then there's Percy, and I'm sure Ron and Hermione… well, it's only a matter of time now, isn't it?"

Charlie intentionally did not mention his sister. He'd heard about the break-up, of course, and after all, she did have another year of school left to go. And, well, anything could happen in the meantime, right?

"I've never really thought about it, myself," Harry said with a twinge of regret. "I actually don't know that I've ever thought much about what life would be like after defeating Voldemort. I never thought I'd survive. And… well, even now, the idea of a future is still just that: some far-away thought."

"Well, right now, we're just going to take this one day at a time. What do you want to do tonight?"

"You could read to me." Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"Okay."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The actual house at 12 Grimmauld Place was an old building that seemed to make an awful lot of noise for something that had been settled for so long. Even the Burrow with all of its extensions and odd little cracks and corners didn't make so much noise.

Charlie noticed that when the wind blew from a certain direction, the house howled, and when it shifted and blew through the other direction, it was more like a low chirping or squeaking sound. All the time, there were parts of it that creaked and groaned, and at one point, he thought he'd heard a banshee scream from upstairs.

Due to the noise the house was making, Charlie had difficulties sleeping. The first night was terrible, and the second night not much better. By the third night, he was so tired and so exhausted from not sleeping the other two nights, he found that even if the house would start in at a full orchestral pitch, he would have slept right through it.

Right through the sounds of the house, perhaps, but the screams coming from across the hall were something entirely different.

As soon as he heard the first scream, Charlie sprung from his bed and grabbed his dressing gown. Not even waiting to don it fully, he rushed out the door and across to Harry's room, tying the sash as he swung the door open.

"Are you alright?" It was a stupid question. Harry was curled up in a fetal position with his back in the air, arching off of the bed. His head was tucked down inside of his arms and his knees were up under his chest.

There was an odd glow about him, almost as if his magic was oozing out of every pore in his body.

Charlie's first thought was that he looked like a baby dragon maturing into an adolescent. It wasn't something that many people had witnessed. For the most part, dragons were so dangerous in this state nobody dared approach them. Having helped a young one through the transition, Charlie instinctively knew what to do. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Harry's body, tucking it under him and around him so tightly that the boy wouldn't have been able to move even if he'd wanted to.

Tightening the blanket and sticking it with a charm, it would suffice as a cocoon. Charlie pulled Harry into his arms and cradled him, holding him tight. "Shhhh. Calm down. It's okay. Shhhh." As he rocked Harry back and forth, the younger man's screams abated and turned into a low whimper.

"It's alright." Charlie wiped the sweat off of Harry's brow.

"He's… he's… My parents' killer—"

"He's gone. Dead. Harry, he won't be coming back again."

"He's… my parents' killer."

Charlie pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead. "It's alright, Harry."

"Gone."

"Harry, it's—"

"Avenged."

Harry's body relaxed. He moved his head in to rest on Charlie's shoulder, and pressed his face into his neck. "Avenged."

"Shhh."

Charlie tried to imagine what it must be like to be blind and have nightmares like that. To be unable to open one's eyes and see reality again – it must have been awful. Charlie resolved to spend the rest of the night with Harry. Even if he had gone back to his own room, he would have had those screams echoing in his head all night.

"It's okay, Harry. Just try to get some sleep. I'll be here."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, Charlie woke up, still holding Harry. He seemed to still be asleep, so Charlie gently set him down, unwrapped the blanket, and covered him up.

"Are you going to make breakfast?" Harry asked, sleepily.

"Um… sure. I can do that. What would you like?"

Harry rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut. "Porridge, I think. With honey and milk. Or… no, maybe just toast."

There was something in Harry's voice that sounded, well, defeated. "Are you sure? I can make you some—"

"No, I'm sure. Toast is fine."

Charlie went over and sat at the edge of the bed. He cast a "Lumos" and pulled Harry up. "Open your eyes," he said. Harry squeezed them tighter. "Please?"

Slowly, Harry turned to the sound of Charlie's voice and opened his eyes. Just a little at first, and then opened them wide. Charlie was looking down into deep pools of green. Green and nothing else. There was a little white from the sclera out on the edges, but no pupil.

"You're completely blind."

"… yes."

Charlie ran his thumbs down Harry's cheeks and gently, soothingly moved them down his neck and then back up again to cradle the young man's head. He'd only seen this once before – when he worked with the Myotis Draconis out in the salt flats of Kazakhstan.

The mouse-eared bat-dragons of that region would start out with working eyesight, but then at a certain age, the pupils would disappear entirely, and they would spend the rest of their lives completely blind. However, he had never heard of any person losing their vision in this way. It was a mystery as to why the dragons would (some attributed it to the fact that they spent their entire lives out on the blinding white of the salt flats, others claimed it was handed down from the Gods since their wings resembled the angel-wings from local mythology), and as far as he knew, no real research had been done on the subject.

"Don't tell Ron and Hermione. Please. They need to find her parents, and not come running back here because I can't see."

The room fell silent for a few moments. Of course he ought to owl them right away and let them know. However, the way Harry was looking at him with those sightless eyes, something inside of Charlie felt as if it just broke. "You… you want porridge for breakfast? I'll make that for you. Sure, toast is easier, but if you're going to learn to feed yourself without looking, you might as well start now, yes?"

Harry put his hand on Charlie's arm. "Thank you," he said with a smile.

A strange peace fell over them. Charlie could feel it come from within himself almost as if a voice was crooning soothing words. Harry's face was peaceful and serene, even though he ought to have felt something. Still, something inside of Charlie told him that it was not strange, and that this was just another example of how much Harry's life as the Chosen One was different from everyone else.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The daily routine wasn't really that difficult. It was kind of refreshing, actually. Not only was he away from the sadness of the burrow, and able to have some of his own free time, but Harry was absolutely delightful He was fun, silly at times, and interested in just about everything Charlie had to say. Charlie would talk for long hours about his research of dragons and related magical creatures. He told Harry stories of his travels, and about all of the places he'd love to visit again.

"Someday I think I'm going to sell everything I own and just wander all over Europe and Asia. And then when I'm done with that, I'll go to South America. And then maybe the Antarctic. I just want to travel. To get as far away as I can and see every inch of this amazing world."

"It's funny," Harry said, curling his legs up on the sofa, "I've never been out of the British Isles. I mean, other than on the Knight Bus, but that doesn't really count."

"No, not really. Hey! Maybe after Ron and Hermione come back, I can take you with me to Germany. I think I'm going there next. There are some areas of the Black Forest that are said to have some very interesting creatures, indeed."

Harry closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "I... I don't think I'll be able to leave England, do you? I mean... they'll want to run tests on me and try to cure me, and I'm sure they won't let their chosen one out into the big bad world while handicapped."

"Don't say that, Harry."

"It's true."

Charlie moved to sit next to Harry. "Listen, I don't know what you expect them to do to you, but if it's anything bad, there's no way I'll let them near you, alright?"

Harry nodded.

"Alright. So then, let's think this through. When they come back, they'll want to spend some time with you, and then you and I can sneak off in the middle of the night - or in the day while they're working or something. I've got friends over there who can put us up for the night."

"Lovers?"

Charlie drew in a sharp breath. "I... um, former lovers, I suppose."

Harry nodded again. After a long silence he reached out and found Charlie's arm with his hand. Moving his hand up, he reached his shoulder, then neck.

Charlie was frozen. He didn't know what to do, and couldn't really think. Especially when Harry opened his eyes, and he was faced with gazing into those two perfectly round emeralds. Something in his mind told him to just sit still and let this happen. That it would be alright. Harry was just exploring and...

... and when Harry's hands cupped the sides of his face, and he ran his thumb across Charlie's lower lip, there was nothing left but sensation. Charlie closed his eyes and sighed. This wasn't just some other guy looking him over. Harry was really trying to learn what Charlie's face was about.

"I have freckles."

"I know. I've seen photos of you at the Burrow."

"Oh yeah, I guess so."

"Your face... it's very smooth where there isn't stubble."

"I didn't shave this morning."

"Charlie... there's... there's one more thing I'd like to learn, if you don't mind."

There was no way he could deny this voice anything. The soothing song in his head still echoed even after Harry had finished speaking. "What is that?"

It's alright. It's alright. It's going to be alright. Just relax and let him do what he needs to do, the voice whispered to him.

Harry brought their faces together and without even thinking about it, found Charlie's lips with his own. It was a soft, smooth brushing of lips against lips for a moment, and then Harry took Charlie's lower lip between his own. That was all Charlie needed. He opened his mouth to Harry's, and simply melted into whatever it was that Harry was offering. Wrapping his arms around Harry's torso, he tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

It was perfection. The taste, the motion, how they fit together, and even how long the kiss lasted. It was long enough to convey emotion, to get Charlie high off of the sensations, but not too long, or too suggestive as to make him yearn for something more.

"That was nice," Harry said, smiling. "You taste very nice, as well. And... it wasn't wet, or strange, or... or too much."

"I... I... yeah." Charlie leaned his forehead on Harry's shoulder. How could he say it? It was perfect. The kiss was perfect, simply perfect. The best he'd ever head and he could go on forever with just that - nothing more. It was a kiss that went directly into his soul like the kiss of an angel. Something he'd remember on every cold night and lonely day.

"Are you okay, Charlie?"

"Yes. I'm okay. I'm... I'm more than okay, Harry. Are you?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"So, Germany?"

"Sounds wonderful. So does Indian take-away."

"Aah, yes. That, too."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two days later, Harry lost his ability to hear human speech. Charlie was cooking up some bacon at the stove while Kreacher cleaned in the far corner of the kitchen, grumbling about how the cooking was his job, and why did the frecklewizard take his job away from him.

"Good morning," Harry said, feeling his way into the kitchen.

"Good morning." Charlie put the bacon on two plates that already held a healthy pile of scrambled eggs.

"I said good morning. Charlie?" Harry turned his head around to the far corner of the kitchen. "Charlie, are you in here?"

"I'm right here, Harry."

"Charlie?" Harry turned around to face back into the hallway. "Charlie! The bacon smells like it's done, are you—"

Charlie put his hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, I'm right here," he said.

"Charlie? That's you, right?" Harry put his hands up on the sides of Charlie's face. "Why didn't you reply to me?"

"Master Potter is unable to hear what Freckle Wizard has to say to him now," Kreacher said, striding up next to the two wizards. "It is the way."

"Oh, I can hear you, Kreacher. And... the house."

Charlie looked stunned. "But you can't hear me? Not at all? What-- that doesn't make any sense!"

He could see Harry's brow furrow as Charlie's jaw and lips were moving with no sound coming out.

"Kreacher, why can't I hear him anymore? But I can hear you - and this house?"

"My kind cannot explain such things. Not even to Master Potter. This house, my kind, and others may be heard to those like Master Potter. Man and Wizarding kind cannot. Kreacher says no more."

Harry's face fell in an expression of despair. First his sight, and then his hearing. Something was seriously wrong. Charlie took Harry's hand in his, turned it over, and pushed up the sleeve of Harry's pajamas.

On his arm he wrote: I. W.I.L.L. F.I.N.D. O.U.T. W.H.A.T. I.S. H.A.P.P.E.N.I.N.G

Harry brought Charlie's hand up to his face and kissed his palm. "Thank you."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The whole time Charlie was researching Harry's condition, not once did he leave Harry's side. Actually, he was in physical contact with him the whole time. Not only did Harry seem reassured by Charlie's presence, but Charlie felt better about the situation if he knew that Harry was with him.

And then there was what Charlie called "the warmth factor." Harry couldn't hear Charlie, but he could feel him, so every few minutes, Harry's hands would wander up and down Charlie's arms, sometimes reaching around to his neck or back. They hadn't kissed again since that first time - Charlie wasn't sure he could control himself if Harry kissed him again.

So, when he would feel Harry pulling him in just a little too close, Charlie would wrench himself away, and they'd go to another room.

Usually, it was the library, or the study, or even once it was the kitchen. The only down side to this was the fact that actually getting much research done was becoming a chore. He'd have to move fairly often (if nothing else, just to remind himself of where he was), and leave some of the books behind.

"It would be so much easier if Hermione were helping me," he muttered to himself as he poured over an old tome of curses. "She could look through all of these curses, and I could go back to more familiar territory and look for some kind of medical affliction."

Charlie slammed the book shut and looked over at Harry. His eyes were closed, and he almost looked as if he was sleeping. "It's so much like a dragon's maturation cycle - that's what's so odd about it. And if it is, you should start hearing with a different kind of ear, and seeing with a different kind of eye soon. Not that your pupils will open up again. I have no idea if you'll ever get your sight back. But you could see in other ways - just like the Myotis Draconis."

Harry's thumb slowly, gently rubbed the back of Charlie's hand.

"Not that you can hear anything I'm telling you, either."

Charlie took Harry's hand and stretched out his arm. He'd gotten used to writing on the inside of his forearm.

What do you want for supper?

"What do I want? Oh, I don't know. I'd like to help make something, but I really don't know what I can do to help at this point. Kreacher makes a brilliant lamb stew."

"Kreacher will make lamb stew for Master Potter's supper." The elf seemed to appear out of nowhere, and then disappeared just as quickly.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry called off in the direction of the house elf's voice. Harry smiled. "He's so grouchy sometimes, but I think he's actually warming up to me."

I wish you could hear me.

Charlie saw Harry's face fall. He swallowed hard. "Um, so, did you find out anything yet? Any possibilities?"

Not yet. Is there anything else that's bothering you? Any other changes?

"No, not that I know of. My sense of touch is so highly sensitive now, though, even my woolly jumper is too scratchy for me to wear anymore. Actually, even this shirt I got from Dudley feels like sandpaper on my back." Harry rubbed his back against the back of the chair for a moment, and then pulled forward suddenly, as if he'd just leaned back on a tack.

"That... that doesn't feel right."

Charlie examined the back of the chair. It was smooth and cushioned. Of course, like everything else in this house, it was a very hard cushion, but there was nothing sticking out of it.

I'm going to look at your back.

"Okay."

Harry pulled off his shirt.

Charlie was not ready for that. Harry's body was amazing. It was sculpted in a way that would make even the finest artists in Europe jealous. Quidditch and battle-toned, scarred a little in certain areas, but for the most part, Harry was simply beautiful. This was a shoulder that wanted to be kissed, and a chest that needed to be touched. He had a firm, flat stomach with a tantalizing trail of downy black hair that led down below the waistband of his denims.

He had to look away for a moment. "Focus on the back, Charlie," he said to himself.

As he moved around to Harry's back, he sucked in a gasp of air, then covered his mouth with one hand. "Oh my God!" Charlie said.

There, all over Harry's back, were welts and blisters and boils. Some of them were the size of his fists. Many of them had thick layers of skin covering them, but he could see the bulges and long lines underneath.

I think you've been cursed. Charlie wrote almost too fast. He knew he ought to slow down but he was starting to panic. What if they hadn't caught it in time? What if this was something more than...

"What? What's going on?"

I want to Fire Call Bill. Or we should go to St. Mungo's.

Suddenly, Harry sat up straight. He spoke in a voice that seemed to come from his throat and was also broadcast directly into Charlie's mind at the same time. "Not St. Mungo's. I will not go to the hospital."

Bill, then?

Harry sighed. He turned to Charlie and smiled, those brilliant emerald eyes boring deep into his soul. A voice inside Charlie insisted that this would be alright. That he ought to just wait and see what happened. Harry was otherwise healthy, and a few welts and boils wouldn't really hurt him if he hadn't even noticed they were there until today.

Charlie was so busy listening to the soothing, calming voice inside of his head, he hadn't noticed that Harry's face was getting closer to his. Closer, and closer, and finally...

Harry was in his lap. He was kissing him, arms wrapped around his neck. There was so much giving in this kiss, and so little taking, that Charlie all but melted underneath him. He planted his hands on Harry's hips and allowed himself to be thoroughly consumed by the amazing sensations.

They sat there for a long time, lips and tongues working together in an unrehearsed, and yet perfect dance. Charlie had never felt more at home with someone. More right with someone. All of the lovers he'd had before disappeared from his mind, and all that was left was Harry. The way he felt, the way he kissed, this magic halo that was powerful enough to encompass the both of them, and yet soft and subtle and unassuming.

And there it was... the warmth again. Charlie needed it. He craved it when Harry wasn't there - missed it. But when it was there, every inch of his skin was covered in its glow.

"I love you," he whispered as he pulled back from Harry's mouth. "You can't hear me. I know that. God, it hurts to know you may never hear this. And... and maybe I'm saying it because you can't hear me." Charlie brought his hands up to Harry's face and gently smoothed out his cheeks with his thumbs. "You're the most amazing man I've ever met. The things you've done were - I just love you."

Charlie gently helped Harry off of his lap and back into his own chair. He handed Harry his shirt. "And I won't allow myself to have you."

"Yeah, it is rather cold in here today, isn't it?"

"You're so lovely, and so perfect."

"I probably ought to change into a jumper."

"When you're better. When you can see me and hear me again..."

"Sorry about that, um, kiss. I suppose I just wanted to calm you down or something."

"We'll go to Germany."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Charlie didn't hear Harry enter his room. For the first night in over two weeks, he was sleeping soundly. So, when Harry crawled into Charlie's bed and sidled up next to his warm body, Charlie didn't even feel it.

He had been dreaming. It was one of those dreams that you just cannot end no matter how hard you try. Charlie was out in an open field, Flocks of Myotis Draconis were flying around him, hovering above, and dipping down below to satisfy their curiosity at this strange man, then zooming back up into the air in the most amazing acrobatics.

It was heavenly. Flashes of white dragon were flickering all around him.
From off in the distance, someone was approaching him.

Dark hair, brilliant green eyes, that beautifully sculpted torso - it was Harry. He was wearing white trousers and had the most gentle and soft smile on his face. "Harry," Charlie said, extending one hand.

"I thought I might find you here. You didn't notice me come in. I suppose all of this was just far more seductive."

"God, nothing's as seductive as you are," Charlie said as he walked up to Harry. "I don't think I've ever known someone as amazing and beautiful as you."

"Love can be blind."

"It can."

"Or it can have absolute perfect vision. Sometimes we see things, and we just think we're blinded, but," Harry took Charlie's hand and placed it on his chest, "what you see is really what's here."

The dragons all dashed away in a moment, and then it was only Harry. With a wave of his hand, he made Charlie's shirt and trousers disappear, then removed his own. They stood there for a long moment, just staring at each other. Harry wore that beautiful, gentle smile. It was infectious.

"I love you, Harry," Charlie said softly.

"I know."

Harry pulled Charlie to him, and the whole of the outdoors melted away. They were in Charlie's bedroom, Harry laying on top of him on the bed, kissing down his neck, chest, and caressing every bit of his body. "God, how I've wanted to see this - to do this. You have no idea. From that first time I kissed you, I knew I wanted you."

Charlie's head fell back on the pillow as Harry's hand found his cock and slowly, languidly began pulling him to hardness. "Oh, God, Harry," Charlie gasped.

"Your voice sounds so lovely when you're moaning like that. Do it some more."

In this dream-state, Charlie could give himself over to the pleasure. He spread his legs open and allowed Harry access to his balls. Of course, Harry took it as an invitation. Sliding down Charlie's body, Harry nuzzled his cock, and finally moved his mouth down over the crown.

Charlie cried out in pleasure. "Oh God, more, Harry! Please. God, I've wanted you." This was everything he'd dreamed about. And so decadent, so amazing. The aura that came from Harry enveloped him and heightened his senses. Charlie ran his hands down Harry's shoulders, down his arms, and finally their fingers intertwined.

"Please," Charlie pleaded. He didn't know what he was asking for, his mind was so clouded with pleasure and love.

Harry pulled up off of his cock and slid up Charlie's torso. "I want to make you feel as wonderful and amazing as you make me feel. Every time you touch my arm, every time you take my hand to lead me to another room, I feel this." Harry put his hand over Charlie's heart. "I may not see anything, or be able to hear you anymore, but this I can feel."

He put Charlie's hand over his own breast and smiled. "Hold onto this for me, please."

Suddenly, the roof of the room burst away as an explosion of light shined down on the two of them. Harry sat back, grinding his arse against Charlie's cock, and then...

Feathers. Everywhere. Feathers came down from where the ceiling once was, they burst out from Harry's back, they covered the bed, the pillows, Charlie, Harry, the entire room.

"Hold onto it for me," the voice echoed in his mind. It was the same voice that calmed him, soothed him, every time he looked into Harry's eyes.

A giant flash of flames burst forth from Harry's back. Instinctively, Charlie wanted to pull Harry down to him and away from the fire, but after a moment, he realized that it wasn't actually fire, but a pair of giant orange and white wings. They filled the room, and created their own light.

This visual display of light and feathers had so entranced Charlie that he almost didn't realize when Harry began stroking them together. "It would hurt too much to make love to you tonight. I don't know how, and I don't think you're in much headspace to teach me." Harry chuckled. "Uh... but this feels good, though."

Charlie's head fell back on the pillow again. Feathers flew up around his face and were blown up and out into the ceiling of light. There was so much sensation, it wasn't long before he felt his toes curl and the fire in his belly sink lower into his balls.

He cried out as he came. Harry was still stroking himself through it all. After the last of the spasms ebbed, Charlie felt Harry lean down and kiss him again, and then another splash of sticky heat slid across his stomach.

"Harry," Charlie whispered, reaching up to touch Harry's head, "you're so beautiful."

"Mmm. It takes one to know one, you know?" Harry leaned up and kissed Charlie's chin. Then his wings came around and settled down and around and over Charlie's head. "Sleep. You will need it."

Charlie felt Harry's lips on his forehead again, and the dream faded away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When he woke the next morning, Charlie found Harry laying next to him in his bed. They were both fully clothed, and, of course, the ceiling was still there (he had to check), and there were no feathers around.

...except for the few downy orange ones that were peeking up from under Harry's pajama top.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"What's going on with him?" Charlie asked Dumbledore's portrait. Sir Nicholas was standing near them in the hall behind the Headmaster's office. "He's... not alright, is he?"

"Calm down, my boy. Start at the beginning. I'm afraid I need more information to answer your questions. Being a portrait isn't the same as being a Wizard, you know. I don' t have the same--"

"Harry," Charlie said. Sir Nicholas glanced nervously at Dumbledore and then back at Charlie. "He's not... not the same anymore, is he?"

It was the ghost who spoke next. "We cannot talk about certain things, I'm afraid. Just as I could not tell him about his Godfather and the Veil, I - we - cannot talk about what is happening to him."

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Weasley. Sir Nicholas is correct. There are certain things that are strictly forbidden to portraits and ghosts. House-elves, Centaurs, and other sentient creatures are also silenced on this one particular subject."

"He's... an angel."

"I cannot talk about it," Dumbledore said, biting his lower lip.

"Will he go back to normal?

"We... cannot talk about it," Sir Nicholas replied.

"Mr. Weasley, there are resources for you to research and learn about what is happening to Harry Potter. However, you will not find them in Hogwarts, nor anywhere in our world. It is... out of our realm of understanding. That information can only be conveyed between that other world and the world of man."

Charlie sighed. On his way out, he shot McGonagall an apologetic glance, choking back - something. The raw emotion must have shown on his face, though, because for the first time in his life, Minerva McGonagall gave him a sympathetic hug. "You're a very clever man, Charlie. I'm sure you will find your answers," she said softly. "I will pray that you do."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Charlie got back to 12 Grimmauld Place, he found Harry sitting in the kitchen talking to Kreacher. Of course, Kreacher didn't have a lot to say to him - mostly just agreeing with him, or giving him sharp responses to some of Harry's questions.

"Freckle Wizard has returned, Master Potter. Kreacher will take himself upstairs to finish cleaning now."

With a sharp "pop" Kreacher was gone.

"Charlie?" Harry spun around in his chair, looking toward the doorway, smiling. "Charlie? Are you here?"

Charlie went up to Harry and kissed him on the forehead.

"Aah, now I know that's you. You have a particular scent - did you know that? And the way your lips feel? That's very much you, as well. I'm afraid I've been lazy today. Didn't even feel like changing out of my pajamas."

It doesn't matter how you are dressed.

"Oh, I know that. After all, it isn't as if I'll be going out on the town anytime soon. Oh, and the ache and itchiness in my back is gone."

I know. Do you know what's happened?

Harry took a deep breath. "Kreacher won't tell me, but they're feathers. Charlie, do you know what's happening?"

I think so.

"Well? Is it a curse?"

Charlie knelt in front of Harry and wrapped his arms around his neck. "I don't know if it's a curse or a blessing."

"It is, isn't it?" Harry held on tight until Charlie pulled away again.

I will find out more. I need to go out for a while.

"Oh, well, I'll be okay. I mean, I can call Kreacher back. Where are you going?"

Canterbury.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There are Three Spheres of the Angelic Hierarchy

In Each Sphere, there are Three Choirs

Among each Choir, there are divisions and rankings.

In the first sphere are the Seraphim and Cherubim and The Thrones.

In the second sphere reside the Virtues, the Powers, and the Dominions

And In the third sphere are the Principalities, Archangels and Angels.

Reading through this tome was a lot more difficult than Charlie had anticipated. It was written in a very Muggle Latin, and not the vernacular Charlie had been accustomed to. Between each line of text was an invisible line that could only be brought out by, apparently, using a spell to be found in another tome in the book of revelations.

The deacon watched Charlie like a hawk as he went between the two books, reading some bits out loud, and other bits silently to himself.

Finally, after decoding most of the chapter on Angels, he found what he was looking for.

As the Archangels visit man only on a rare occasion, the Angels walk among us every day. The classes of Angels are unknown to most men, but on occasion there have been souls open enough to have seen their visages in a true form.

A poem was found among the remains of the prophet Veritus:

The Angels walk among us

They stay with us every day of every week.

Year after year, they follow man

They move forward on the timeless sands.

For all that they are,

They march in an order of class.

Ahead of all are the Victoiries ,

Fighting the battles of God.

Behind them march the Nemesis

Avenging the Sins of man.

Angelicus fly above the wing'ed

Observing and recording their histories.

Wardein are not in the formation.

Each are assigned their own man.

Corriere relay orders and messages

Between those on Earth and those beyond.

Finally, march the Caritas ,

Patching wounds and delivering mercy.

Mortals often do not see them.

Creatures do not speak of them.

It is only the holy men

To whom the key is given.

The scholars of men, the learn'ed of God.

And those who have loved beyond all hope.

Charlie closed the book carefully and sat back in the hard wooden chair. The deacon asked if he was finished with the books. Charlie nodded, and the man took both volumes away.

He looked down at his notes. Harry Potter should have died when he was a baby. Instead, he was marked by love. Maybe it wasn't just a mark on his forehead. Harry's entire life, his destiny, the prophecy - everything indicated that he was alive for the sole purpose of defeating Voldemort. Of Avenging the deaths of his parents, and the countless whose lives were destroyed by that one evil Wizard.

If Harry was Nemesis... If he was an avenging angel, what would happen once Vengeance was served?

"Um, excuse me," Charlie waved down another man in robes. He was wearing bright scarlet and gold, and looked much older than the deacon. "I have a question about the angels. What... what happens when an angel's mission on Earth is finished?"

The older man smiled and pulled up a seat next to Charlie. "What is your name, young man?"

"Um, Charlie. I'm not... I wasn't raised in the church, and I've never studied about the angels before."

"I see. Well, I am pleased that you've made this journey. Knowledge is always its own reward, even the kind that causes us pain." In his ways, this old man reminded Charlie of someone. Charlie couldn't put his finger on just who, though.

"The angels are mysteries to man. You ask what happens to them when they've finished their missions on Earth? The easy answer is that they go back to join the Choirs above. However, I don't think you're looking for easy answers if you are willing to translate Latin to find yours."

Charlie looked down at his notes and all of the Latin phrases that he'd translated magically on the page.

"Your ways are not unknown to me." The old man took a deep breath and cleared his throat. The deacon looked as if he wanted to come into the room, but the older man held him off with a wave of his hand. "The Hebrews wrote that an Angel had forty days after his service after which point, he would return to the heavens and sit within his choir again. However, some of these things cannot be taken literally.

"The Hebrews used symbolism in their numerology. Three was the divine number. Four was the number of man. Therefore Twelve was the number to symbolize God among Men. Or Men who walked with God. Forty was the Hebrew number for "enough." Forty days and forty nights of rain. Forty years wandering in the desert. It represents two generations, or long enough to cleanse away or recover."

As Charlie listened to the old man talk, he thought about Harry. "So, forty days after completing the mission... would just mean "long enough?" Long enough to do what he needs to do before going back?"

"Precisely. Charlie, we are not unaware of the sacrifices your friend has made for this world. He will need help, and there are few who have the moral fiber to do what must be done. Please, go to him, take care of him, and help him along. You will have all of our prayers and hopes to carry with you."

Charlie was gobsmacked. Not only did this Man of God know about the wizarding world, but he was accepting of it.

"And if you see my brother again, please send him my best wishes. And if you will, remind him that as soon as he's regained his strength, and gotten his wand shop back in order, it is his move in our game of chess."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Those who have loved beyond all hope.

The words Charlie wrote down echoed in his mind when he entered the hallway. He could see Harry sitting on a stool in the kitchen. The black hair, the giant orange, white, and golden wings tearing out of his back and extending to the opposite end of the kitchen.

He looked tired, defeated, and his eyes were cast down to the floor and his bare feet. Harry was still wearing his pajama bottoms, but the top was on the floor, shredded where the wings had apparently burst out. The halo that surrounded him lit up the entire room.

"Harry," he whispered as he entered the kitchen.

Kneeling down before Harry, Charlie took his hands into his own. He leaned up and kissed Harry's mouth gently, then his cheek, and collarbone.

"I can't feel much anymore, Charlie. I have instincts, but my sense of touch is fading. I can tell that you kissed me, but it was only a feather touch compared to--"

Charlie took Harry's hand and brought it up to his cheek. "I understand, Harry."

"Charlie, I love you. I need you to do something for me."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For some reason, perhaps because Harry was a fully-formed angel, and had this brilliant aura around him, neither of them were questioned as they entered the Ministry of Magic. Actually, they made it all the way down to the Department of Mysteries, passing by dozens of people, without even one of them asking who they were, and why Arthur Weasley's son was carrying Harry Potter in the form of an angel, wrapped up in a blanket, in his arms.

As much as they liked to say that Muggles only see what they expect to see, Charlie reckoned that it worked the same way with Wizards. Angelic beings, and those that came from the Realm of God were ultimately completely inconspicuous to Wizarding kind.

There was one more doorway to cross. One more room, and Harry would be where he needed to be. He'd be going home.

And Charlie was taking him there.

"Harry, we're almost there." Charlie knew Harry couldn't hear him. He doubted that Harry could even feel him.

As it was, Harry weighed next to nothing. It was all too easy for Charlie to carry him the entire way. In some strange daze, Charlie carried him. Through the streets of London, past all of the Muggles, past the Cathedral, the shopping district, the Leaky Cauldron, and all the way down to the Ministry of Magic. He wanted as much time with Harry as possible. If he took the Floo Network, it would all be over too quickly.

These were places Charlie wanted to remember. From this point onward, every time he walked past them, every time someone mentioned them, and every time he read about them, he would think of how he'd visited them once - with Harry. He'd visited them while carrying his angel.

The door opened without a touch. There, up on the dais was the arch, a thin silvery veil flickering Harry's reflected light all around the room. Harry turned his head toward the arch, and then back to Charlie in a painfully slow motion.

Charlie set Harry's feet on the floor, but kept one arm around his waist. "I guess this is it, then?"

Harry reached up and wrapped his arms around Charlie's neck. "Don't forget about me," he whispered, kissing Charlie's ear.

For a brief moment, Charlie thought he heard the voice from behind Harry's eyes making some sort of promise, but as soon as he tried to grasp onto that train of thought, one of Harry's arms slipped back down to his side. Charlie grasped at Harry's face and kissed him again. This time wasn't perfect. It wasn't Harry's kiss, it was Charlie taking what he needed. There was a sad good-bye in their unspoken exchange, and then Charlie took a step back.

In those final moments as Harry drifted toward the veil, Charlie couldn't say a word. Harry's eyes flashed with recognition, and he smiled, then laughed, staring directly at Charlie. "I like your freckles," he said as the veil claimed him.

And then, a few moments later, the veil stilled, and the glow in the room faded.

Charlie crumpled to the floor, one hand clenching at his chest and the other grasping his head while the tears and sobs tore him apart and echoed in the stone cold room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Working at the Ministry really wasn't that bad. Arthur was glad to have another one of his sons working with him. Molly was glad that Charlie was staying home and not off studying those dangerous dragons.

Ron still wasn't talking to him. Neither was Ginny. They refused to forgive him for letting Harry go without telling them what was going on. Ron insisted there might have been something they could have done. Ginny just wanted a chance to say goodbye to him before he left.

None of that mattered to Charlie at the time. Actually, the only one who seemed to understand him was George. "It will never be the same again," he said one night after they'd all had dinner at the Burrow. Charlie went outside, as he often did, and just lay there in the grass, staring up at the sky.

"How do you get over it?" Charlie asked.

"You don't."

"Thought not."

George lay down near Charlie and stared up into the stars. "You don't, but the pain goes down after a while, and then you get to the point where you think you just might make it through a day without crying. And that's when you hate yourself. 'Cause you're starting to let go of the pain. But then after that, the days come when you hate yourself less."

"Do you hate yourself?"

"Sometimes. Fred isn't coming back. I know that. It's almost easier for me 'cause I know it for sure. As for you? You've been emptying rubbish bins at the Ministry, taking their shit jobs for six months now. All 'cause, you know, maybe."

"Maybe."

"Yeah."

"Do you think I should give up hope?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. Your only problem is that you dared to love beyond all hope. So, then after that... hope is all you have."

"Love beyond all hope?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

How long had it been since he'd been down here? Well, not since that day, for sure. Even when he was sent down to the entrance of the Department of Mysteries, Charlie had a strange feeling that he ought not to venture any further.

Since being with Harry, he had no problems getting through the wards. All he had to do was listen to the voice in his head - the one that spoke from his Angel's eyes, and the world would seemingly wash away.

He'd used it on occasion to get back into 12 Grimmauld Place. It was only on the most bitterly lonely nights, and Charlie would only go there to sleep in that bed. His dreams were always comforting in that bed. It was never as intense as that one night, but he would have a restful slumber, and he could feel that warmth again.

Today was different, though. Charlie felt different. He had walked into work - the same path he took when he had carried Harry that day. As he passed by the cathedral, he met the old man he met in Canterbury.

"Those who have loved beyond all hope?" Charlie asked, shaking his hand.

"Those who have loved beyond all hope," he replied.

It was some kind of sign, Charlie decided. He understood, and the old man understood. And somehow George understood, too.

Sitting down on the floor at the base of the dais, Charlie stared up into the ripples of the veil. He just sat there for a long time, watching the movement. "I wanted to believe," he said finally, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out before him. "I think in wanting to believe, I actually didn't believe. I wanted. I still want. I still need you."

There was no change in the arch or the veil.

"And now, I guess what's different is that now, I understand a little more."

The room was silent for a long time. Whatever might have happened in that moment, passed without even a flicker of change.

"You know, I thought about going around traveling again. This job, it just isn't for me. I mean, the people here are brilliant. Shacklebolt makes a fantastic Minister. Better than any of us thought he could be. Well, maybe you. I mean, you always knew he was sharp as a tack, didn't you?"

Charlie sat up again and fidgeted with the hem on his Nehru jacket. "George was saying that I still have hope. He's right, you know. I guess this is one of those things that you can only admit to someone who isn't listening. Like when you were deaf, and I told you I loved you. It's that sort of thing.

"I'm always going to keep hoping. I think it's the "what for" that makes the difference. See, on my way in this morning, I met that old man - the one who helped me figure out what you were. And I said to him that last bit in the prophet's poem about the men who have loved beyond all hope.

"And he said it back to me."

Charlie stood and walked up to the dais. He went up to the top step and sat there, his back to the veil. "Loved beyond all hope. I keep hoping you'll return. But that's not enough. See, I'm a wizard, and I tend to think of things in wizarding ways.

"You... you're on the side of God. And hoping, wishing - all that magic doesn't work in your realm."

Charlie took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Minerva sent her prayers, the Archbishop of Canterbury sent his prayers. And now it's my turn. God, please, please, if you can hear me through this veil, if you can read my heart, please send him back to me."

The silence that fell through the room was actually soothing this time. After a few moments, Charlie looked inside of him for that voice, but it was gone.

Perhaps this was the closure he needed. Had he made a mistake in letting go?

"Oh, I don't think so. When you pray for something like that, after what you've done, it's pretty much an "ask and you shall receive" situation."

For a long moment, Charlie forgot to breathe.

Harry sat down next to him. "Hi."

"Harry."

"Yup. I'm here."

"You're... back? Again?"

"Can't seem to keep me away. I mean, died as a baby, died again in battle, finally gone as an angel, and then here I am again."

"You're--"

"Still an angel."

"Oh."

"With a new mission."

Charlie took a deep breath. A new mission. And then after that, there was that indeterminate forty days of preparation and Harry would leave again.

Still, any time was better than no time.

Charlie turned in to Harry and laid his head on his shoulder. "I... I missed you. Felt like I was dying."

"Love beyond all hope."

"Yeah."

"I felt the same way."

Harry brought Charlie's head up for a deep and perfect kiss. Oh, God, how he'd missed that. When they broke the kiss, Charlie scooted up to sit closer to Harry. He took Harry's hand in his own and intertwined their fingers.

"So, a new mission?"

"Mmm, yes. And I think I'll like this one."

"Not another smiting job? Vengeance and all?"

Harry laughed. "No, I'm no nemesis this time. They've given me something else entirely. Wardein."

"Oh? Aah, well, erm..."

"You see, we received a prayer. Not that we hadn't been looking at this man for a while - wondering how he would work his way through life. All it took was one look from my Principality, and it was decided."

"So, you're a guardian now? Where - where do you need to go?"

"I think– I think Germany. Isn't that what we agreed upon?" Harry smiled and leaned his head in to rest against Charlie's. "Only this time you are my ward."