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1.
Hestia comes back at the crossroads twenty minutes later, carrying a small scroll adressed simply „Hum – The crossroads, Ashclyst Forest” and the girl practically hurtles down from the boulder she’s sitting at. She meets her owl mid-landing, offering her an arm to sit, and opens the scroll with fingers that are shaking a little. The bird gives her hair a friendly ruffle and settles itself snugly on Hum’s arm – and seems very interested in the twined charm that sticks out of the girl’s jean pocket.
The late afternoon light shifts into something else now, the colours slowly draining the lush greens from the trees and the grass around the bridleway growing matte in colour. It quiets down significantly but at least the birds can be heard still from time to time.
Muggles definitely show up here at times - just half an hour before Hum had to duck onto the enchanted part of the crossroads to avoid a pair of joggers running by; she’d look strange alone here, with a broom tucked under her arm. The teen slips back onto the road as soon as the road is deserted again – and hopes Charlie won’t be noticed when (if?) he lands there. Hopefully, the oncoming darkness will keep people from wandering any deeper soon.
Hum is soon acutely aware of how the forest around her no longer bustles with life and how contours sharpen on things around her - and shivers a bit, not at all because of the chill; the air is still very warm, and heavy.
She can’t concentrate on the writing, expecting something to happen, on account of how things always seem to be happening on magical crossroads. That’s what auntie used to say and Hum herself had too much experience with strange phenomena not to trust Asteria’s heedings now.
Before getting back to the note Hum puts the charm beneath the standing stone again – just in case. Her broom lays on the ground next to her feet, almost vibrating with apprehension, ready to whip over ground at a moment’s notice. Charlie’s familiar, neat cursive works like a calming draught but Hum wishes she’d had some better reason to write; with all the help she was asking her friends for throughout the school year, it gives her a serious case of guilty conscience that she can't lay off even on holidays. Plus, she’s not exactly keen on imposing herself on the Weasleys like that. It’s not like they have extra space to sleep in, what with Bill’s old room taken by the twins. Hum doubts Mrs Weasley would let her feel unwanted - but she has her own house to live in. Now, if only this house wasn’t haunted...
Hum, I hope this finds you fine and not too sore from sitting on mossy boulders. I’ll be on my way in no time. Thx for the map and don’t go breaking unknown curses without company please! Not that you’re unable to
PS if anything happens, just vermillious at me you know that
Ch.
She chuckles and folds the note evenly, tucking it in her jeans. It will go into her journal, along with the letters from all of her friends – she likes to re-read them at times when feeling down which has been every evening recently.
Charlie rambles even in his letters but somehow he ends up scrawling over the best bits, the juicier or more personal fragments. He prefers to relay those in person and only recently had Hum started both noticing and appreciating it.
It’s a different kind of waiting, of being in these woods alone when she’s waiting for something good to happen. The girl stretches on the boulder languidly now, thinking about how to approach the house, now that she’d have a trusted partner to go about it soon. On the many adventures she’d had in Hogwarts all these years - because they’ve been many and have started as early as her first day at school - rarely had Hum been alone. She seeked quiet hours in the hipogriff stable and wandered the forest alone, mapping it or looking for plants and seeds to use, but to just lie down and be -
How scary and exciting, flits through her head and Hum has to agree with that apparently wiser voice in her head. Definitely have to try it out more – some other time maybe. She shifts into a lazy slouch now, one foot tapping to the catchy rhythm she heard on the radio playing in the bus. Neat of the driver to have a muggle radio on-
She’s moved into singing by the time Charlie appears in her vision, a golden red blur going down fast. A reckless flyer this guy, always. He halts to a graceful hover just as Hum jumps from her place and onto the rock’s highest point, arms already outstretched to greet each other among soft murmurs. He nuzzles into the crook of her neck, warm from the flight and Hums enjoys how loud his heart beats against hers. It does some funny things to her – kinda like cliff jumping with Tulip and Tonks last year. She’d like to invite him this time – the feeling of falling was like nothing else.
And it didn’t end with death nearly as often as flying!
„You’re here”, she says happily, hurriedly, untangling herself from his arms, but still reluctant to leave that familiar warmth; she leaves her hands atop his, where they grip the broom. Their fingers intertwine loosely and Hum looks at the boy, still a bit out of breath, whose grin mirrors her own. Are there even more freckles on his face than when they parted ways after school ended?
She wants to know that, out loud, and watches how he grows a bit flustered, a bit pink underneath. Perhaps watching him get like this shouldn’t bring her so much satisfaction, but if there was one thing that Felix had managed to instill in his younger protegee, way back in the first year, it was go for what do you want, ruthlessly; and she wanted to kiss every single freckle he had. So far they were down to just one cheek, as of their last care of magical creature class. She’d pursue the other one mercilessly--
Truthfully, she has no idea how to go about it now – the memory of June seems both very fresh but also curiously detached from her recent life, like it belongs to a story Rowan would read her before sleep and not her own, lived and breathed through. She didn’t end up kissing Rowan from atop the flying hipogriff above the Black Lake though - and that perhaps made their relationship easier to map out. The other Slytherin would definitely enjoy the aesthetic angle, however.
„Did the spell work?” she asks instead of acting, glad to put the confusing feelings into the designated drawer, hopefully not to be revisited again, probably. Perhaps, if she ignored whatever had happened before, it would be less awkward between them now – not that she already didn’t have the most easy-going friend , in the very boy who was jumping on the ground as she spoke, taking her by hand as he went.
„Bloody brilliant this spell, looked like something out of those muggle movies”, Charlie enthuses, proud he remembered all the muggle science-fiction they’d watched on the VHS the last time he’d visited her on the Diagon Alley. His dad would go crazy to watch this stuff, he adds chuckling. „Do you think anyone would take the lights for the UFO?”, he wants to know then and they look at each other, Hum in exasperation and Charlie innocently curious.
„Nobody saw you, right?”, Hum asks anxiously and her eyes criscross as she watches him removing a conifer needle from her arm. „Sure”, he adds lightly, catching her eyes after few seconds. He looks startled when he is caught in the act– he’s been tracing her hair absentmindedly where they fall along her arms, fingers deep into the thick waves. It seems he has something else on his mind.
„Are they longer? How long was it when school ended?”, he muses, looking at his own ponytail – it’s decidedly longer. He stares at her thoughtfully, his one hand still sifting through her hair delicately and Hum averts her eyes –
„Um, I didn’t really count, a month- I think a bit over a month maybe?”,
„I know how long it was, actually”, he supplies in the same light tone. Naturally, this is a boy who kept a tally of how often they went to the prefect’s bath both with Bill and together. And Hum is a science whiz crazy about numbers, math both muggle and magical – they both know they've been keeping count, and not at all for the reasons stated above. Her bedpost back in London bore exactly 30 notches when she was leaving.
„Can I offer you an offering of sorts…? It’s a one time deal – if you’re wiling to drop the charges, that is” Hum says, voice lilting. Her sly smile undermines any attempts at compunction but whatever – there will be time to talk deeply about whats and whys after all this, and they both are guilty as charged.
Charlie looks up at her and one corner of his lips lifts slightly – he tries to smother it but fails rather spectacularly and his smile only grows bigger. He’s rarely the one to hold a grudge, a deep, placid lake to her boiling pool. „Show me your wares and we shall see”, he practically purrs and Hum’s jaw falls a bit down because of it. Did he change places with his older brother?
Hum’s breath hitches a bit now but she’s determined, a wily hunter after a lovely companion and trusted curse breaker, so she prays silently to Hekate or Lilith or any witch deity really and imagines Felix for a second, just enough to focus – she often resorts to picturing his resigned grimace when planning a particular piece of rule braking.
The girl knows of no rules to break here, though. Before, every conversation on romance would usually glide over her like clouds in August and had left no blueprint she could consult now. She’d have to manage just like with walking on trees or flying hipogriffs – by trial and error. Lesser risk of breaking bones, still a fall.
„It’s take one, get” - she looks up, tries to count how many freckles are there over the right corner of his lips. The sun went down finally and it’s difficult to count so she’s got to be creative here. Takes half a step, watches how the broom he’s holding hits the rock behind Charlie’s back. „Five. Seven, actually”.
„One of what?”, the redhead asks bemusedly; but truly, it’s besides the point and he’s not backing up into the rock either. Obviously she’s offering herself and Hum wonders if it feels like payback for June. Ruining her solitary ride like that. Truly heinous.
It’s not difficult to reach his face, no tiptoeing beyond rudimentary needed and before her lips touch it, she can count – he has eight freckles dusted over the right corner of his lips. In truly Charlie fashion, he eagerly meets her halfway and they miss each other marvelously.
She’s after subtle introductions and he jumps straight into it like a wounded osprey – so it ends with their noses bumping awkwardly and eyes snapping open in shock. Trying again -- and failing once more leaves both of them in hysterics, doubling down into each other, laughing till they’re almost crying, their fingers weaved together till almost white.
„Still a very satisfying deal all things considered, pleasure doing business with you-” Charlie chuckles, mounting his broom just as she wipes away the wetness from her eyes. He kicks off in one fluent motion and offers his hand with a grin; taking it would be a fair deal after all this...
Hum considers telling him that she has her own broom now– the one she’s worked her ass off in the shop and at Fortescue’s to afford, throughout the last three summers. Alas, she can go back home on her own - the broom, that is. She seats herself sidesaddle-like in front of Charlie then, watching her own broom lift off and glide along the long path towards the house.
„Do you fancy a quick go at chasing away whatever haunts your house first, or perhaps mom’s chocolate pudding sounds far better?” Charlie teases, the broom already having taken them a bit over the treetops in the span it took for Hum to blink her eyes. She usually hates this with passion - but then dipping her sneakers into the leaves from above feels somehow liberating; she could hop onto the tallest branch if she wanted.
„Depends on your time constraints. We could fit in a pint of butterbeer at the Red Hare, five minutes to the east of the forest edge, in between the hauntings and the pudding if you can…?.
„Can’t say no to that”, Charlie laughs and Hum shakes from its reverberations from where she’s plastered into him by the sheer speed they pick up that very second. This she hates about brooms. It’s not a pony or a sturdy ‘griff but a pretty thin wooden pole, and forgive her for remaining a bit skeptical that she won’t fall to her death any time soon, with no water to duck into safely.
If not by the broom, that creepy mist from the hall would surely attempt to do the honours.
2.
„Can’t believe it took so much salt”, Charlie sighs, dipping a piece of bread into his soup.
They sit at the farthest corner from the bar, as discreet as can be without casting actual charms in the muggle world. Hum picks at the lacy cuff of her dress – the adventure had effectively ruined her previous clothes and that was the first thing she could find; the silky velvet made her shiver on their way here.
The fire in the hearth crackles cheerfully to Hum’s left, bathing their table in comforting shades of red and warming them up in no time. Charlie looks into it with a content smile, his cheek pink again from the warmth. They both are tired beyond words, dabbing at their food slowly – Hum feels as if half of her magic evaporated during the casting of that protective spell. Charlie looks very much the same. If not for that cat...
„Thank you for helping me out tonight”, she says sincerely, too spent to posture the usual nonchalance. He looks at her briefly and shrugs a little. As if this was a given he would do whatever he could do. It’s both inspiring and terribly scary – but Hum resolves not to think about the kinds of debt she was in, at least not this evening. In this place the last thing that needed to be said was how she was willing to repay them with her own blood. She imagined this would be a bit heavy to stomach.
Instead of pursuing the topic, she finishes her own food and folds her hands over the table, the plate pushed aside. She takes a deep breath, then another – the adrenaline that usually guides her on all the strange adventures starts abating and the usual anxiety sets in. She wonders if Charlie ever feels like this – he is courageous but also sensitive after all.
And pure.
The magic that got out that evening, free of aunt Asteria’s binding prowess, was anything but – and Charlie seemed to be shaken, where Hum was fascinated by its strange, otherworldly appeal. That is, when she wasn’t feeling like pissing her pants anymore.
She’s pensive again and when they look at each other a shared tiredness gets mirrored in both’ eyes. Hum hates the edge of anxiety that is still locked into his features, and that no amount of beer can wash over, never mind the lovely place they are at. She’d gladly eviscerate whatever threatened to put the fear there again but lacks resources yet; strength is something to be gained, and she is nothing but determined.
One day, she thinks, rolling an unused knife idly in front of herself. For now she should be happy for heeding Asteria’s warning – and bringing more salt than needed.
„I didn’t know this kind of magic even existed”, Charlie mentions in a whisper when they leave the inn, his breath warm on Hum’s ear. They walk thorough the village square in a leisurely stroll, both on the lookout for the best place to side-apparate. The houses line the streets snugly however and there are not many trees just yet. Lots of people are out, too – and it looks like they might have to take a bit of a longer stroll when a proper place presents itself.
„A shady, broken down phone booth with no lighting around – you’re a romantic gal at heart, ey?”, Charlie drawls skeptically but lets himself be stuffed inside just the same. Perhaps they shouldn’t have sent his broom back as well but try to... yeah, no - transmutating it would mean using magic in muggle areas. Way too risky. Hum can feel his heartbeat go faster now that they’re stuffed like sardines here – he's clearly out of his element. It's a fresh wound, failing the test apparently. Talented kids rarely dealt well with setbacks – and Charlie was too humble to voice how frustrating failing was to begin with. Hum could sympathize but no, not with the humility part.
„Hey, look at me”, she whispers, tiptoeing just enough to be on the same level. „It’s just to the forest edge, it would be super short. Then we can summon the brooms”. She does feel some satisfaction it’s her comforting him this time – on broom it’s him who has to reassure her she won’t fall to her imminent death.
„Now I can understand how you feel on a broom, I hate apparating”, Charlie grumbles but grins at her all the same – taking her hand one moment and landing at the dewy grass a split second after that, not the usual agonizing ordeal of collapsing into oneself and being regurgitated somewhere else but rather an effortless glide through another dimension. How much effort did it take?, he wants to know and Hum gives him a proud smile but refuses to elaborate more than tons. The shit-eating grin stays on her face all the same though.
She is a „natural at this” and „insanely fast” and he can’t stop raving about that when they are flying back into the forest, mist already swallowing the ground and their feet lost into its white folds. None of them feels the need to go at it fast, flying knee to knee instead, warm from the food and all the beer.
The trees are towering over them and they pass sleepy meadows from time to time where they have to fly a bit higher, so as to see anything ahead. There’s no light besides a waning moon but the orienting spell Hum casts on Jacob’s address slip conjures a glowing path on the ground, a colour of poisonous violet, muted among all the whites but still visible
„Was yellow for me”, Charlie mutters and looks at her with concern that Hum shrugs away. „I’m too tired man, probably all the anger and exhaustion” she explains. Still, she leans into him when they stop to discuss whether the path was actually violet or just shaded.
3.
„You sure you don’t want to go to the Burrow?” Charlie asks as they hover over the ground in front of the porch. It seems the mist can’t enter onto the courtyard fully - it still swirls close to the ground weakly; strange plants glow around the perimeter in the darkness and they move with no breeze out there. One window is alight and none of them remembers even going into that room--
The cat that had saved their asses earlier on sits like a fat loaf of bread on the the steps, paying them no mind.
„It’s scary as hell” Charlie observes dryly, searching Hum's face for signs that she had changed her mind about staying. They’ve been discussing the issue for half an hour now – the boy belongs to the house of Lion after all. Hum is confident she could slither away from the danger just as well so it is like their usual dragons vs ‘griffs scuffles – none of them can win this for real.
„Honestly, no need to worry. I need to move in eventually – if anything happens, I will apparate straight onto your windowsill”, the girl reassures, hopping onto the ground confidently but not letting go of his hand just yet. It’s very easy to play the badass when there’s two of you but Hum reminds herself she could face the house, now that she had a rough idea what hides inside. In any case – there seemed to be no scarier creature than the cat around here and he seemed to be on her side anyway. More or less.
„The cat maybe will sort-of-help me?” she supplies, to his skeptical grimace.
„The cat is the problem, Hum”, he deadpans; so Charlie isn’t his biggest fan, apparently.
„It helped us”, she argues. It’s not like she’s a fan either.
„It literally sucked some sort of this miasma inside, sorry to be a bit wary of what the hell it is”, Charlie grumbles unhappily. But Hum can relate to the cat - sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.
„It’s probably a lesser demon”, she says airily, locking eyes with the lily-eyed creature. Charlie looks like he’s about to fall of the broom from a heart attack, right then and there. „Look, you work with these in alchemy, check for yourself”, Hum adds quickly, remembering the sentient automata her mother created. Naturally, if strong enough, they could inhabit organic vessels as well – and Hum’s eyes fall on the cat. It’s the real deal, she thinks with growing excitation.
„Either I'm staying and mom pays us a visit in the morning and kills us”, Charlie bites as Hum rolls her eyes, „or you go with me – isn’t this enough-”. He starts. „Ugh, it’s not enough for you, no? Should’ve known better”, the redhead adds defeated, eyes rolling hard. They aren’t in any place to lecture each other, really.
„We could sleep within the circle of salt, your mom wouldn’t reach us--”, Hum offers helpfully and he laughs, giving her a kiss on forehead. „You’re mad, Battenburg” he murmurs and looks like he is actually considering.
„-but we can’t have you chased by anything else than dragons, as extra as your mom is”, Hum adds, shoving him jokingly. „Honestly, she‘s probably worried lots already, don’t ruin my chances with her like that--” . It’s a risky direction but she’s determined to keep him out of the danger. He has helped her immensely already – and getting herself killed there alone mere hours later would definitely do him a disservice, for sure. But better this than him getting hurt – and she is not above manipulation to keep her close ones safe.
And Charlie is the Best son, just like he is an overall angel – problem is, Hum really doesn’t want to move back to London and Burrow will just prolong the inevitable if she doesn't clear this house.
He looks torn as he lifts from the ground, clearly taught better than to leave others smack in the middle of the woods in a haunted house with a shady solomonic entity to boot-
4.
„Not gonna leave you, no way--”.
Charlie Weasley flies down at her porch not fifteen minutes later after taking off, a furious blur with all colour bled out by the darkness around, and lands with a heavy thud, broom forgotten in the wet grass instantly. Hum watches him stride forward, cussing breathlessly when his robe gets tangled in brambles. She is confident she could see his face down the steps if she squinted though – and it’s very lovely indeed, even with all the exhaustion. Particularly because of it.
The girl still hasn’t gone inside, opting to sit on the porch steps cocooned into a heavy blanket, petting the cat. It jumps from her knees and sits by, giving its paw a lick once Charlie gets closer.
She’s been determined to unearth its secrets – and was so far rewarded with half-serious bite and a scratch. He did eat a few of her owl treats though – and Hestia looms over him from the railing like a very skeptical gargoyle.
„Hello again, lovely to see you”, she greets him and stands up, barely feeling where her feet land out of tiredness. It was a very long day and she doesn’t know if he stands far or just few steps away. It definitely takes eternity to reach him.
„The blanket…?”, Charlie looks at it, one singed through brow shooting upwards. She can hear the question to follow and chuckles half-heartedly.
„Accio-ed it from across the threshold. Too wary to go there….” He slips his hands beneath the blanket, hands so cold she gathers him into herself, beneath the blanket that’s big enough to share. „...just yet.”, she ends sleepily and yawns; she can feel his palms crush the material of her dress where they end up on her back.
It feels less scary now. He’s warm and she’s so very sleepy, and it’s very comfortable where she is right now, thank you.
„Just yet?”, Charlie challenges - but as her head lolls back lazily he follows her down, capturing her lips, already almost open for him. Hum doesn’t have any mind to try and joke about seeing all his freckles from this close, not with her tongue otherwise occupied. She's too concentrated on how warm and downright slithery-soft it feels, and if she is honest she finds standing a bother now - so they end up on the ground, dew and earth clinging to their clothes. The grass feels cold, still not colder than his hands when they slide along her sides, her arms, over her neck-
How her palms slip under his robes and explore she doesn’t fully remember, and Hum feels very much like a burglar that Rowan has always said she was apt to be. She makes sure her hands do no funny things there – out of respect, naturally. Wouldn’t mind being burgled herself though and she presses into him fuller, until they are tangled in the blanket together, his hand slipping through the zipper on her side, under the camisole she wears beneath the dress -
- and Hum’s pretty sure her hair are wet now from the dew, because world has tilted some moments ago and she’s gently pressed into the grass, under the gentlest assault she could ask for.
They stay like that until Charlie actually sneezes and they both realize it’s the middle of the night, Mrs Weasley is likely gearing to kill them in the morning for indecency and a lesser demon sleeps on the porch some three meters to their side.
„I’ll make us some tea, with brandy in it. A brandy with tea in it, I mean”, Hum drawls weakly, her tone dreamy and hair dripping wet. She wonders if her lips are as reddened and tired as his. Probably. Walking proves a sufficient challenge but they somehow reach the threshold, the blanket long forgotten on the lawn. They stand in front of the doors holding hands, shivering from the cold and wet. Hum’s nose is running and Charlie sneezes again.
It’s 3 in the morning. The salt is whirling in the hall like snow now, moved as if by a gentle winter breeze, and lit faintly red by something from behind.
They look at each other and then cross the threshold together.