George & Annie: an Unofficial Biography

Chapter 43: Dragons vs. Women

June 2003

Annie was currently sandwiched between the twins, who were packed into booster seats, in the third row seat at the back of the car. Molly sat on the seat bench in front of her, with Merrie facing forward and Janie facing Annie in their respective car seats. George was driving, and Arthur rode in the front passenger seat, talking a mile a minute in anticipation of the adventure ahead. A collection of small backpacks was stacked on the floor behind Annie, containing everything they would need while away from home. The distinct lack of luggage was a fact that would be sure to arouse curiosity if anyone else understood the group of eight was on their way to a fortnight's camping trip in the Romanian mountain wilderness.

Annie smiled as she listened to her three oldest children singing Frere Jacques, taught to them by their Aunt Fleur, who would be meeting them at the end of the second leg of their trip today. At the moment, they were in the Land Cruiser speeding along the freeway in the rain on their way to the airport. The next part of the trip was a special gift from George to his father: Arthur would be fulfilling a life-long dream today when they boarded the flight to Paris.

She had to admit that George seemed to have a talent when it came to planning family outings - or parties of any sort, actually. The annual family reunions/camping trips each August had proved to be huge successes every time, cementing the bonds between the Weasley siblings, spouses, and the growing ranks of next-generation cousins. Annie wondered if it would have been the same if Fred hadn't been taken from them; if they all would've felt the need to come together quite as strongly as they did now.

Today they were on their way to see Charlie, a hold-out when it came to family gatherings. As the years had passed since the end of the war, Charlie had withdrawn into his life in Romania, throwing himself into his work with the poor, helpless dragons (Annie chuckled silently to herself at the thought of a dragon being considered helpless). They hadn't really seen him for two years now, and George was insistent that it had been long enough. And if his brother Charlie wouldn't come to see them, then they were going to Romania to see him.

Annie whole-heartedly agreed. She genuinely liked Charlie and enjoyed his company. He had never been anything but friendly, easy-going, and welcoming to her.

But that wasn't to say that she thought she knew him well at all. Charlie was not very forthcoming with personal information of any sort, preferring instead to redirect the conversation away from himself and onto something else - dragons, usually. Thereupon he would become effusive, waxing poetic, spinning incredible tales of daring adventure. Otherwise, he was quiet, bordering on reticent.

Even so, she had her suspicions as to why Charlie had stopped coming home for visits. Perhaps he felt it was too sad now that Fred was no longer with them; preferring instead to avoid the memories that would be unavoidably triggered by a stay at the Burrow. Or maybe he really was too busy to get away from the dragon reservation for a few days a year.

Or most likely, in Annie's opinion, he was feeling increasingly out of place at home, now that every one of his siblings was married, families begun or likely on the way soon. And if this was in fact the case, Molly had been particularly unhelpful by badgering her bachelor son about settling down for the entire time he ever was in her presence.

They arrived at the airport with several hours to spare, just as planned. Annie gave in to the urge to laugh out loud several times. She supposed all eight of them must've looked like utter rubes, herself included; they were all so fascinated by the novelty of a modern international airport. She had never had the opportunity to fly before, either. Though as a muggle she had been so thoroughly exposed to the process of airline travel via the media that, among the Weasleys, she was considered by them to be the expert of the group.

Arthur was wandering around like a man in a waking dream, exclaiming about every new thing he saw and chatting up random strangers - to their consternation - asking them their opinions about the marvels around him. Even Molly was impressed, though Annie could tell the prospect of boarding a large tin can and trusting it to carry her thousands of feet in the air over the English Channel did not appeal to her the way it did to her husband.

The twins were nearly as enthralled as their grandfather. At four and half years old, this was their first real exposure to the muggle world, aside from occasional trips to the supermarket with Annie. They stood on either side of Merrie, holding her hands and leading her through the airport, pointing out items of interest: the metal detectors, the baggage handling system, the lifts, the airplanes themselves. They had only ever read about them in books, but were able to explain the inner workings of the mechanical systems like adult experts.

Finally, it was time to board the plane. They took up three consecutive rows: Molly and Arthur in the lead, George and the boys next, then Annie with their daughters bringing up the end. Before taking her seat, Annie made a point of explaining to her in-laws the purpose of the small paper bag in the seat pocket, just in case. Molly pursed her lips in displeasure at the thought.

They were the only people on the flight who listened intently to the stewards as they explained the operation of the seat belts ("Ingenious, aren't they, Molly dear?"), flotation devices (Molly blanched at this point), emergency exits ("Those slides look like fun, Daddy! Can we ride them, please?") and lavatories ("Are you sure you can't hold it, Merrie?"). The four small children were for the most part perfectly behaved on the flight, largely due to its newness and brevity rather than their own self-control. Annie could tell Arthur was as disappointed as Molly was relieved by the fact it was over so soon.

Fleur was standing across the street from the airport, waiting for them. She had offered to be their translator (Well - insisted, actually, would be more accurate, Annie thought), helping to deal with the French Ministry - who had a reputation for being as unhelpful as their muggle counterparts - in obtaining the proper portkeys for the rest of their journey. Angelina had already done quite a bit to smooth the way before them from her position in the British Magical Transportation office, but it was comforting to know they would have Fleur on their side all the same. As it was, she had to give two separate people a tongue lashing that nearly drew blood before they were finally handed a cracked dinner plate (outbound from Paris to the dragon reservation in Romania) and moldy fedora (inbound direct to Devon).

"Thank you so much, Fleur! We couldn't have done it without you, dear," Molly exclaimed with a hug.

Annie noted how Molly always made a point of being generous in her praise with Fleur. George had long ago explained to Annie that it had to do with the werewolf attack on Bill, and Fleur's subsequent reaction to it. Even though in many ways Fleur still rubbed Molly the wrong way, she would always have a special place in Molly's heart for that reason alone.

Fleur led them to a quiet, empty park from which to leave. After they hugged and kissed their goodbyes to her, they were off once more.

Annie far and away preferred travel by portkey to apparating, or even the Floo Network; the sensation of moving at blazing speed was thrilling to her. Each adult held a child carefully in their arms as they all held on to the plate and hurtled through some unknown cosmic dimension, coming to rest in an idyllic-looking mountain meadow overlooked by a cottage.

Charlie came bounding over to them right away. "You made it! How was the trip?"

"Amazing! Charlie, you must fly on an airplane for yourself someday, son! Simply fantastic!" gushed Arthur, vigorously shaking his hand.

"We survived, dear," Molly muttered unenthusiastically, with a kiss and a hug for her son. "How have you been, Charlie? You look thin..." she said, clucking her tongue.

"I'm fine, Mum," he said with slight exasperation. He turned to his brother next. "George! You look well!" he said, thumping his younger brother on the back.

"Not well-rested, but well, thanks," joked George.

It was one of his favorite complaints: lack of sleep. He loved it because not only was it true, and primarily due to a house full of young children who kept odd hours, but he could never resist winking at the implied innuendo either. The fact that it riled Annie whenever he did so was a bonus. As expected, she scowled at him, making him laugh.

"Good to see you again, Annie," Charlie said with a smile, offering her a peck on the cheek. "And this must be Harriet?"

The six-month old in Annie's arms hid her face against her mother's neck; shy around the stranger she had never met.

Annie nodded. "She goes by Janie, now. Uncle Harry starts to squirm whenever we use her given name around him," she giggled.

"And who are these three? Why haven't you brought Fred and Art and Merrie with you?" he exclaimed, bending down on one knee as George's children gathered around him in curiosity.

"We are Fred and Art and Merrie, Uncle Charlie," said Art with concern.

"Don't you recognize us?" added Fred with surprise.

"No, no, no. You're far too big to be Fred and Art and Merrie. Where are my little niece and nephews?"

"Right here!" they cried, beginning to suspect their Uncle Charlie was teasing them.

"Where?" he said, looking all around him in an exaggerated way, picking up a small rock and looking beneath it for effect.

"In front of you!" they shouted and giggled, jumping up and down.

"Are you sure? You look like a mob of kangaroos to me. Has someone transfigured you? Your Dad, maybe?" He fell to tickling the children until they ran away.

"This your place then, Charlie?" asked George as they began walking toward the large cottage uphill from the meadow.

Charlie nodded. "An observation station, actually. Keepers are housed at several of them throughout the reservation, and play host to visiting scholars, when called for."

"Looks terribly lonesome, doesn't it?" commented Molly, preparing to launch into yet another harangue.

"Looks peaceful and quiet to me," argued George in an attempt to head his mother off. "At least, it must've been before we got here."

Annie silently applauded him.

"As peaceful as it can be, surrounded as we are by dragons," Charlie laughed along with his brother. "Wait till you see them, bro," he said excitedly. "Annie, you'll love them!"

"I'm sure I will. I'm always interested in seeking out things that would enjoy roasting and consuming my flesh," she teased. Despite the sarcasm, she was, in fact, rather looking forward to seeing the terrifying creatures in person. It was a thrilling prospect, and she assumed it might be like what big game hunters would feel - a surge of adrenaline in the face of an animal that was perfectly content to be, as well as quite capable of, killing you.

They entered the alpine cottage then, taking a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the comparative dimness of the room compared to the blazing sunlight of the meadow. It looked exactly like what she imagined a scientific research station might: spare, utilitarian furniture, bookshelves crammed with well-worn books, and several things that resembled telescopes near the windows.

"This is my room, just here," Charlie said, leading them down a narrow hallway to the back of the building. It was small - no bigger than Jane's college dorm room had been at Cardiff. It contained a single bed, a desk, a dresser, and a bookshelf.

Annie gazed around; finding only two items indicating someone with any sort of personality lived here. The first was a family photo Lee had taken of the Weasley clan all together that first summer at the beach. It was framed and sitting on the desk. The other was a little plaque she and George had found one day in a little muggle tourist trap in a seaside Devonshire town, specializing in "magical" gifts. They had thought it funny, and figured Charlie would appreciate the humor. It said: "Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup."

"There are five rooms like this here in the station," Charlie explained. "I'd invite you lot to stay, but they're all being used by us keepers and a few visiting researchers, at the moment."

"No worries, Charlie. We wouldn't exactly fit in here, anyway," joked George.

Annie noticed he also looked slightly surprised at the spartan furnishings and Lilliputian proportions of what amounted to his brother's home.

"The tent will be perfectly fine for us," Annie said, adding her reassurances.

"Thanks for understanding," Charlie said, leading them back the way they had come.

They were sitting around a large dining table in the kitchen area of the station, chatting and catching up, when the front door opened. Four men came traipsing in, three of whom were speaking excitedly in Chinese. The other was a tall, darkly complected, handsomely bearded man, who smiled and waved at them.

"Hello, Sasha," said Arthur, apparently recognizing him and sounding pleased to see him again.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley. It is very nice to see you again," the tall man said in heavily accented English, shaking his hand. His voice was deeply booming, yet gentle.

Charlie stood up and introduced Sasha as a fellow keeper stationed at the house to his brother's family. They all chatted politely as Mrs. Weasley began fixing a meal for the family, while the Chinese dragon researchers had all gone directly to their rooms, not speaking a word of English.

After a short while, George and Arthur excused themselves to set up the tent nearby before it got too dark. The twins and Merrie were attempting to find a dragon using the telescope at the window, and Janie was asleep in Annie's arms.

"So, Sasha. Have you had any more success in finding a nice girl than my uncooperative son has since we saw you last?" asked Molly from her post at the stove.

"Oh... no, Mrs. Weasley," he said uncomfortably.

Annie gave them both a look of sympathy that she hoped conveyed her embarrassment at the interrogation tactics as well.

Sasha smiled and winked at her in response. "Not many women find this sort of life attractive," he added.

"My point exactly! I've been telling Charlie the same thing for years. You can't tell me you two don't get lonely up here," Molly argued.

Charlie hazarded a quick, meaningful glance at Sasha, then returned his focus to the bottle of butterbeer in his hands. Sasha smiled at him in response, then looked at Molly. Annie gazed down at Janie, pretending not to have seen the exchange.

"I admit that it can get lonely, at times," Sasha said.

"The both of you need to get out more," Molly urged. "Surely there's a village pub somewhere nearby with nice girls to meet. I mean, don't count them out just because they're muggles... right, Annie?"

"You said it, Molly," she giggled as both Sasha and Charlie smiled warmly at her. She winked at them both. "Muggle girls need love, too."

*

The next evening, George and Annie said goodnight to his parents and were getting ready for bed themselves, now that the children were all asleep. They had had an amazing day, touring the reservation with Charlie and Sasha and seeing five different kinds of dragons. As incredible as it was to see the dragons close up and in person, the best part had been seeing the looks on his children's faces, as well as Annie's reaction to the beasts, George reckoned.

"You know, Mum may have a point," George said as he fluffed up his pillow. "Charlie should settle down soon, find a wife. He's been single far too long. What?"

Annie had been looking at George with a surprised stare. "Nothing," she muttered, looking away quickly.

"Even I'll admit Mum has occasionally been known to be right, you know," he joked, assuming he understood the reason behind her look, as he climbed into bed.

"Not likely this time," Annie mumbled under her breath, lying down on her back.

George heard the comment anyway, and was somewhat surprised by it. "What do you mean? Charlie's a great fellow! He deserves to be happy, just like us," he argued, sitting up in bed.

He turned to face his wife, finding it particularly strange that she wouldn't feel the same as he did about the subject. Up to this point, they had always been in perfect agreement when it came to assessments of the romantic relationships of their friends and family.

"You'll get no argument from me on that point. I totally agree: Charlie is a wonderful guy. Everyone deserves to be loved, no matter what," she replied.

"What is that supposed to mean: 'no matter what?'" he demanded.

"Look, it doesn't matter to me, one way or the other," Annie said cryptically. "I'm just saying we shouldn't assume that what makes you and I happy would make Charlie happy as well."

"You've lost me," he said, confounded by an argument that seemed to come from out of the blue. How could love not make someone happy?

"Okay, then.... You've never mentioned if Charlie had a girlfriend before. Has he ever?"

"Sure.... I mean, well, now that you ask, I can't think of ever meeting one. He was really popular in school, though, so I imagine he must have."

"Ever talked about fancying anyone?"

"Not to me, no.... But he'd be more likely to confide in Bill. They're closer."

"And that doesn't seem unusual to you? That you've never seen him with a girl? Heard him talk about one?"

George shrugged. Charlie had always squirreled himself away from people, preferring the company of creatures out of what George had always assumed was a symptom of shyness. He had felt the same way, to a lesser extent, he reckoned; content to let Fred take the lead in most social interactions when they were growing up. Small wonder if his brother didn't have many girlfriends, he thought. After all, George had only really ever had one himself, and she was sitting right next to him at the moment. "Maybe he just hasn't met the right woman yet, is all," he offered.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe he never will," Annie replied.

"That's a harsh thing to say!" he cried, surprised at such a callous comment coming from Annie. He had expected her to be far more sympathetic to his brother's plight.

"Not at all!" she exclaimed defensively. After a short pause, she continued somewhat hesitantly. "George, you know that not everyone prefers a companion of the opposite sex, right?"

"I'm not an idiot. Of course I do, but what does that have to do with.... Hang on... is that what you mean? Are you saying Charlie's...?"

"I'm not saying I know anything about Charlie," she insisted, cutting him off. "It's none of my business, nor yours as far as that goes. And it doesn't matter to me either way, like I said before.

"But most research shows that about ten percent of the population is not heterosexual, and there're seven of you.... I think we can safely assume that Fred was very much into female companionship, the rest of you are married, and that leaves Charlie the only one not accounted for," she concluded simply.

"You think Charlie's gay?" he said again, uninterrupted this time, still flabbergasted by the thought.

"You don't think it could be at the very least a possibility?" she asked.

After a pause of several minutes, while George's mind was still reeling from the implications of her comment, Annie spoke again. "Is homosexuality a taboo, in your world?"

"Our world," he corrected her out of habit. "And there you go again, misusing words. A taboo renders someone traceable when they utter a forbidden word," he explained patiently.

"All right, Mr. Pain-in-the-Ass Dictionary who is missing the point on purpose. Allow me to rephrase. Is it considered morally wrong by wizards for people of the same sex to... well... have sex with each other?"

"No, not exactly," he replied thoughtfully after a short pause. "It's not a moral issue. But it's... different. Not the usual way of things, is it? Not something people casually discuss over dinner, for example. It's a private thing. Not like those muggle bars in London, where chaps parade it around...."

"And ladies, don't forget," she amended.

"Right. And ladies." After another pause, he continued. "You really think Charlie could be gay?" He was asking himself as much as Annie at this point.

"I think it's possible, yes. But like I said, it doesn't matter to me. You were right when you said that Charlie is a great guy, and everyone deserves to be happy. I hope for his sake he is, or at least will be, someday," she said, sounding slightly evasive.

"And you're right, as well," he replied, choosing to ignore whatever it was she was trying to hide by her last comment. She clearly knew, or thought she knew, more about the situation than she was letting on. "I shouldn't assume that what makes me happy would be the same for him."

His mind was now racing, trying to make sense of what was increasingly feeling like a revelation to him. Now that Annie had pointed it out, the conclusion was rapidly becoming unavoidable to him. To the point that he now wondered how could he have not seen it before?

"D'you think that's why he won't come home anymore? Is he afraid of what we'll think?" he exclaimed as more and more of the possible ramifications began dawning on him.

"You'd have to ask him, love. But no matter what, I could certainly see why he'd want to avoid your Mum bangin' on about him finding a wife, couldn't you? She was relentless, last time," Annie said sympathetically.

George snorted in agreement. His mother had been like some kind of matchmaking harpy the last time they had seen him at home, foisting suggestions of eligible women onto Charlie and urging him to get married as soon as possible.

"We should invite him to stay with us, instead," he suggested with a flash of excited inspiration. "Maybe then he'd feel more comfortable, and come to visit more often...."

"I think that's a brilliant idea, love. Well done you," she said in the midst of yawning, then closing her eyes and patting him on the shoulder to indicate she was finished with the conversation.

He turned off the light then, plunging them into brightly moonlit pseudo-darkness.

*

They finally had some time alone, just the two of them, on the last day of their visit. George and Charlie sat together at the small dining table, sipping the last of the butterbeer he had brought from home for his brother.

"You should come home for Christmas this year, Charlie," George began.

"I dunno, George. I'm really busy..." Charlie protested evasively.

"I know. We all are. But we miss having you there. We haven't seen you since Ginny's wedding," George argued.

"What are you talking about? I came back for Percy's," Charlie argued.

"Right. And I heard you stayed just a little bit longer than I did," George laughed. "That doesn't count."

"Okay," Charlie chuckled as well. "I'll give you that one." He paused, considering what to say next. "It's just... hard... now that all of you are married," he said.

"How do you mean?" George was not entirely sure he wanted to hear Charlie pouring his heart out, but was willing to listen to whatever he had to say, for his brother's sake. Charlie deserved that much from him.

"Whenever I come home, Mum is merciless about it. How I need to get busy finding a wife, like the rest of you. I just don't think I'm the marrying sort, is all," Charlie said carefully.

George nodded slowly, taking in what his brother was saying. Nothing he had seen or heard so far over the past two weeks confirmed Annie's theory outright (All right, mine as well at this point, he silently confessed), but nothing had flatly contradicted it either.

"So stay with Annie and me," George offered. "I can't promise you it won't be utter chaos - in fact I think I can guarantee you it will be," he added with a chuckle, "but you're always welcome, and we promise we won't bother you about that."

Charlie smiled politely; George could tell he was preparing to thank him but refuse just the same.

"You can bring someone, if you like... a friend, maybe. Why not bring Sasha back with you this year?" he suggested with a casual shrug, feeling his way. Maybe the obvious explanation had been right in front of them all along? "He seems like a nice bloke."

Charlie looked searchingly into his eyes then; looking for what, George wasn't sure. Would Charlie be upset at the veiled implication? He wasn't fishing for information - George's only intent was to let his brother know that as far as he and Annie were concerned, Charlie would get no more grief about relationships.

"We just want you to be happy, Charlie," he added. "Holidays are for family. We've already lost one brother.... Please don't take another one away from us."

Charlie nodded slowly, then shrugged. "Maybe I will. And if Sasha doesn't have anyplace else to go...."

"He would be more than welcome in my house," George rushed to say. "Anytime, for any reason. Annie and I love you, Charlie, and we miss you. Come home this year," George quietly urged his brother.

"Okay," Charlie promised, and smiled weakly. "I will. Thanks, George... for the offer. It means a lot, actually."

"Anytime, bro. Anytime."