Charmed

Chapter 2: Hate Every Beautiful Day

Another raindrop hits my cheek and I force my eyes open, reaching to smear away the water. Charlie whistles to Buckbeak and tightens his grip around my chest as we plummet toward the dark field below. We shouldn’t be stopping. Not yet.

It’s as if Charlie reads my mind.

“It’s just for a while, Dora. Buckbeak can’t keep up this pace without a rest.” I half consider protesting for a moment, but then I feel his lips near my right temple and catch the faint scent of aftershave and he’s won the argument before it’s started.

The ground seems to be rushing up to meet us far too quickly. I close my eyes again and lean into Charlie. His muscles ripple as he braces us both for the landing.

“We’ll go to the Burrow,” a terrible jolt, “and wait for someone to contact us there.”

And as Buckbeak canters off quickly toward the little cluster of trees ahead, I notice an odd glint on the horizon. It’s not the sun; this is coming from the west, a silvery-orange glow just above the hillside in the distance. Now it’s tinged with green, and I open my mouth to point it out to Charlie but he’s already sliding to the ground, whispering to Buckbeak and stroking his feathers.

“We’ll give him half an hour,” Charlie says, reaching to help me down. A little tingle courses up my spine as his fingers brush the inch of skin exposed between my top and jeans. I’m still amazed at how effortlessly he can lift me.

I look up and meet his eyes. Oh, God, his eyes.

“Dora?”

My throat begins to burn as he watches me, his brow creasing after a moment.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s searching now, tangling his fingers in my hair, gazing intently.

“Nothing,” I manage after a deep breath, the first time I’ve spoken since Grimmauld Place. He frowns slightly, noticing the tears shining at the corners of my eyes.

……….

It was the Dark Mark, that greenish tent on the horizon.

“Charlie, stop!”

I manage to latch on around his arm, but he pushes me away and charges straight toward the fire. I pull out my wand, afraid that she might still be around. He doesn’t understand.

“You can’t go in! It’s what she wants!”

He’s searching for a way, momentarily deterred by the flames licking the front window. He’s going to get himself killed.

“Stupefy!”

He heard me. Good God, he’s gone mad. His eyes are wild, emotionless.

He ducks so that the spell smashes in the front door. Bolted from the inside. He’s over the threshold, disappearing in the thick smoke pouring from the depths of the home.

“Charlie!”

A desperate call, the emotion behind it tearing my throat. I fumble for the necklace tucked down the front of my top, a silver chain with a phoenix charm. I’m wasting time. There’s nobody to call for help.

It looks so proud, all silver and gleaming in the firelight. I press my wand to the tip of the right wing and mutter the incantation. The little charm glows red for a moment, growing hot in my palm.

They won’t come.

“Charlie!”

The scene before me blurs as hot tears prickle behind my eyes. First Sirius, and now….

A shadow moves across one of the upstairs windows. It’s not Charlie. The shoulders aren’t broad enough.

“Sirius?”

Stop. He’s not coming back.

Move, Nymph! Wasting time!

Hearing voices is never a good sign.

“Sirius?”

Now!

A pair of yellow eyes flashes from a nearby grove of trees, overgrown with brush. They narrow.

GO!

“Shut up!” I break into a run, slipping slightly in the mud.

Not Padfoot. Not Padfoot. Wasn’t Padfoot.

Find Charlie.

I’m just outside the front door. I turn quickly, hoping to catch the source of the voice. No eyes or dogs or dead cousins. Damn.

“Charlie!”

No answer, only the roaring of the fire.

I take one last gulp of air before plunging inside. The heat’s almost unbearable, suffocating.

Something falls into place. I was trained for this. Search and rescue. Three years of Mad Eye barking orders.

Okay. Start at the top and work my way down, or clear the lower level first?

Wand out, idiot.

“Go away.”

But I amend the mistake and snatch my wand from the front pocket of my jeans.

I can barely see a foot ahead, the smoke’s so thick. I’m in the kitchen.

The fireplace has been destroyed, chairs overturned, dishes broken. No sign of anyone.

I pick my way carefully toward the sitting room, moving with a measured, deliberate pace. I pause at the staircase as I hear a loud crack. I can’t decide where it came from. Sitting room. The sound wouldn’t carry downstairs.

The Weasley clock has been smashed, the sofa carved in half by a curse. Pictures all along the mantle charred black.

Another sharp crack. The heat intensifies.

“Protego!”

It isn’t much but it shields me from the explosion of flames as one of the rafters from above crashes to the floor. I dive to the side as another large piece of wood falls from the ceiling. There can’t be much time left.

I move to get up.

Stuck. I’m leaning up on one elbow and something’s choking me. I try to pull away.

The necklace. The stupid Order necklace is caught on…something. There’s too much smoke to see exactly what. The chain isn’t long enough to slip over my head. I fumble for the catch.

A shadow, silhouetted against the flames coming from the hallway. I can’t make out who it is so I grope for my wand. My fingers close around the handle and I aim as best I can from my position on the floor. Charlie would have called out already. Charlie wouldn’t be pointing his wand in my direction. He’s still close. He’ll hear.

“Charlie.”

It comes out more of a whisper than a shout. I can’t decide which impulse is right. I want to Stun whoever it is in the doorway. But if it is Charlie-

He jumps, pushing me away as another rafter falls from the ceiling and we’re sprayed with embers. The chain doesn’t give. It’s twisted tighter now, and his wand’s pointing to my throat. I can’t get any breath to cast a spell but it doesn’t matter because he’s got my wand arm pinned above my head. Damn.