Yours truly ; Charlie Weasley

Fifty-two

Charlie

Have you ever looked at someone without having any idea what's going on inside their head?

I know her and I used to be able to read her expressions, but now she was so different that it hurt.

She's cuddled up on the sofa underneath a blanket, staring at the small television screen with no expression whatsoever.

At night or in the mornings, she'd be extra cuddly and in a better mood, but as soon as she was out of bed, it was like she stepped into a new reality.

The real reality.

The reality where she was struggling because she felt violated by her own grandfather. The reality where she is terrified of the future, terrified of raising babies in this world.

She wouldn't admit it, but I know her. Sometimes she just lies there and looks down at her tiny bump. I've heard her talk to them when I'm not in the room.

She's scared that they'll even be hurt in the way we've been hurt.

"Whisky?" Ember's fragile voice sounded from behind me, causing me to smile as she hadn't called me whisky for a while.

I turned around and looked at her and the pile of papers she was carrying in her hands. I put down the shirt I had folded it after I had taken it down from the clothing line.

Since what happened, I've taken on the chores. Before we used magic or split the chores, but now we're trying to do minimal magic and I've taken on all the chores, knowing that she doesn't have the mentality for it right now.

I caught her trying to fix the doorknob to our bedroom the other day and she broke down crying after a couple of minutes, out of frustration from not being able to do so.

I looked at Ember as she stood in the doorway to the laundry room. Her face was red and tear stained and her lips were swollen.

She was sniffing softly.

"What's up angel?" I asked with a smile, pointing to the papers in her hands. "What's that?"

"It's my—" she looked down at it. "... I finished my self biography."

I slowly put down the shirt I had folded and turned to walk towards her.

"Oh shit." I mumbled. I watched as her eyes flicked up to scan my face while she handed me the pile of papers, all attached to each other. "Really?"

The journey of becoming...

"I'm not so sure about the title." She hurried to say and used her sleeve to wipe her cheeks before wrapping her arms around herself. "Usually I don't have this kind of struggle with naming my books, but this is about me... it's frustrating."

"I like it." I told her and brought a hand up to cup her jaw, my thumb stroking her cheek while I placed the manuscript on the side table in the room. "And if you're not sure about it, you can change it. It hasn't been published yet."

"It won't be published." She started tearing up again and her bottom lip trembled. "Not for a while. How can I possibly publish it when he's out there somewhere planning who knows what."

She had made progress. She's capable of being in a different room than me, but she still has to hear my voice at least every tenth minute so I make sure to go check on her

Today, she had been sitting with her biography, desperate to finish it.

"Ember." I called softly, continuing to rub her skin. She looked up at my face, scanning it. "Look at my eyes, baby. Look at my eyes."