It’d been two days really since he’d been back, but his third night. He hadn’t actually been in class yet, not properly. There were things they needed to figure out fully before he was technically allowed back in, but he hadn’t been just doing nothing. Beyond inspecting the new students and facing Professor Slytherin Charlie had actually been in Owen’s room or even the library. He was catching up on the homework he missed in the last couple days and the last bit of exams he may have missed due to being ill.
He didn’t exactly make an appearance in the Great Hall. He couldn’t muster enough courage for that.
They’d offered him his room back but he was reluctant. He stayed with Owen. Partly because Owen was a distraction, but the boy himself was busy sleeping away in his room. Charlie couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t really since he’d been back.
It was drawing three in the morning when he admitted defeat with his work and began to head towards Owen’s room. Except he didn’t get far because he bumped into someone.
Charlie paused his jaw going slack, as he watched the darker boy look up at him. Declan. A fine shock of panic seemed to burst into Declan’s gaze, and Charlie tried to reach out to him but dropped his things. Charlie glanced from his fallen books to Declan, and furrowed his brows as the boy pressed himself into the wall. It wasn’t as if he’d forgotten the boy, but the last two days were exhausting. Busy. He hadn’t managed to catch Declan yet. Then again the boy should be with Aiden… Why was he up?
“I-in your head? What? Declan - I’m… I… Uh.”he couldn’t really find the words to say anything, but he did find himself feeling a welling of sadness and lose just looking at him.
“Declan it’s me. Charlie.”
Declan shouldn’t have been so alarmed at seeing Charlie like this; Charlie had spent way too much time featuring in his dreams and nightmares since his death. But this dream somehow felt more real than all the others. He was breathing, and he could feel his heart pounding; those were things he usually didn’t notice when he was dreaming. Even Charlie himself looked clearer than usual; it was with no small amount of shame that Declan realized he was having a hard time remembering exactly what Charlie looked like.
“I know who you are, Charlie,” he said, sighing and staring at the books piled all over the floor as he resigned himself to the fact that this dream Charlie wasn’t going away. He figured they were a good enough distraction, so he picked up the books and stacked them on a side table. Why couldn’t this have been a fun dream where books picked themselves up? “Look, can I be honest? I mean, of course I can, this isn’t going to make a difference either way. That’s what’s nice about dreaming. You can do whatever you want...” He shook his head. “Look, I know the drill with you by now. You’re either gonna fuck me or kill me, right?” He opened his arms and shrugged. “I’m tired, so whichever it’s gonna be, do it so I can wake up. Good Auror, bad Auror, it really doesn’t make a difference at this point.”
