Smoke Me Out || Charlie Weasley

Chapter Ten

"I didn't know you'd met a girl Charlie," grinned Tonks, splashing her feet in the stream.

The man's ears turned a bright red, and he scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I don't know what you mean Tonks," he uttered.

The woman beside him rolled her currently blue eyes, stumbling ever so slightly and kicking up water as she did so.

"Oops," she laughed. "Anyway, I know about her Charlie! I possibly should not mention it, you know, rules and stuff... but nevermind that. We met just the other day, almost killed her coat stand."

Charlie chuckled at his friends clumsiness. After third year Care of Magical Creatures, Professor Kettleburn had recommended to both Tonks and her head of house, Professor Sprout that Tonks did not take the course the next year, as her tendency to trip over scared away many of the creatures, in particular the Salamanders, nearly causing Tonks' robes to be lit on fire.

"How did you know we knew each other?"

Tonks shrugged, her pink curls bouncing on her shoulders. "Just mentioned you in passing I think, you know how I tend to babble on. Then she blushed, and I kind of guessed. Must be my wicked auror skills," she grinned launching herself in front of her red haired friend in some sort of defensive stance, before slipping on a wet rock and falling butt first into the trickling stream.

Charlie laughed loudly as his old friend pouted, thrusting out her hand in a bid for help.

In the truest display of friendship however, Charlie simply nearly keeled over in laughter, very quickly joined by constantly cheerful Tonks.

With her reached out hand, Tonks grabbed Charlie by the edge of his knitted jumper, obviously the well renowned Weasley jumper he got each Christmas, and yanked it, pulling the man down into the water.

The pair of adults cackled as the cold water raced over their legs, cooling them down to the bone, though neither felt the chill.

"So while we bask in the warm water, young Charles, please do explain to me what is happening with this young lady you've met."

The man shook his head.

"You wish," he grinned, standing up.

Tonks looked up at him, watching as all the drips flew off him. "Fine, but I'll find out," she smiled, also managing to pull herself to her feet. "I'm basically a muggle detective, you know."

"If you're a detective, what're you doing falling in a Romanian stream with me instead of catching a dark wizard?"

Laughing as Charlie pulled her up the bank and out of the stream, Tonks lightly pushed him backwards, and he stumbled on the long grass, brushing back his soft hair with his rough, burnt hands.

"I'll have you know Charles, that I'm not here to meet a dark wizard this time around. I have a meeting with an auror, we're discussing the transfer of a dark wizard in a few weeks."

"And what time are you meeting this auror?" Charlie questioned, his left eyebrow raising at the bright haired woman before him.

"Two o'clock," she nodded, shoving her hands in her jean pockets with confidence.

"Tonks,"

"Yup?"

"It's two thirty."

"Oh shit," she cried, picking up the jacket she had dropped on the grass.

Charlie chuckled, as with a flurry of movement and a twirling of short pink curls, complimented by a cursing along the lines of "Merlin's beard," a loud crack emitted and Nymphadora Tonks disappeared.

•

Months had passed, and suddenly June had struck, and Riley was days away from meeting her siblings for their summer trip to Peru.

"How absolutely ridiculous," the witch whispered to herself.

Her unsavoury boredom , and premature packing, had led to the purchase of last weeks "Witch Weekly", a buy that Riley was not particularly proud of.

Unlike most girls of her age, including twin Lauren, Riley did not enjoy the drama of such things, and today she found herself scowling at a new article in the magazine.

Flicking over from the cover, Riley quickly saw a piece written by Rita Skeeter, who Riley knew was up to absolutely no good, including, she had noticed one day they had passed each other, the use of a nastily enchanted Quick Quotes Quill, charmed to "enhance", or rather simply lie in note taking and story writing from interviews.

Not only did this prove that Rita was utterly incapable of writing her own pieces, it proved that none of her stories were able to be valid.

Today, there was a particularly nasty article about Remus Lupin, the most recent professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, who Lauren in particular Riley knew was a big fan of.

The article was obviously in accordance with the appearance of the man with his condition of Lycanthropy.

Though on the werewolf registry, most people did not often take the time to read such things, and obviously the cruelty of many people who based their life decisions on emotions was striking the poor man.

As she came to the conclusion of the article, Riley rolled her eyes at the suggestion Rita and her quill were making.

"Perhaps, there was a more despicable plot to infect an entire school of wizarding children, in the attempt to make an unstoppable army. For all the theories, it is clear that Albus Dumbledore is once again making incredibly flawed mistakes in the appointment of his teaching staff.

R. Skeeter.

"Unbelievable. There is no chance anything like that would occur," she muttered, shaking her wild hair as she closed the magazine.

"I suppose that's what I get for reading trash," she laughed.

Being in her own company surely wasn't doing her a lot of good if she was going to simply continue talking to herself.

Glancing to her left, the young woman caught sight of a book she had finished still laying on the table, and flicked her wand to return it to her bookshelf.

And wand of Cypress wood, a trend that oddly enough stretched across all five siblings of her family, containing the core of a single Phoenix feather, 14 and a half inches long with hard flexibility.

Her wand was something Riley prided herself on, as it was the connection to her siblings she tended to miss by being held separate from them since a very young age.

Glancing up, the young witch saw that all her books were aligned flawlessly in colour order, filed gently in her ornate bookcase.

As Riley looked around her small abode, she found herself caught in boredom, the most unfavourable circumstance to be in.

A loud sigh escaped from her pink lips, and she glanced at her clock of constellations, reading the time as a mere eleven o'clock in the morning.

Frustrated, she rolled her eyes, and placing her wand down on the shelf, walked off towards her bedroom to grab the notebook off her bedside table.

As she re-entered the main room of her small home, a jet of black light beamed across the room, and before she could grab her wand, the witch was struck in the chest and keeled over to the floor with a heavy thunk.