Heartbeat: A Charlie Weasley x Reader Imagine
In this imagine, the reader learns that sometimes love doesn’t look like one would expect. After years of failed relationships, heartbreak, and self-doubt the reader gets answers to questions from an unlikely source, her best friend Charlie. With the end of the year rapidly approaching, a question is posed, a position accepted, and a realization is found.
This imagine is different from many of my others. This is deeply personal and I ask that you please read this regardless of your feelings or lack thereof towards Charlie, so that you will better understand me and the asexual community.
Disclaimer: Asexuality is different for every person, but this is what mine looks like.
Y/N - your name
~~~ - used to show passage of time
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“What are you working on?” a familiar red-head asks as I look up from my notebook, the couch cushion beside me dipping.
“It’s nothing really.” I close the pages and scoot over so that Charlie has more room. Around us, the common-room is nearly empty. Most of the students are out studying in the library, which is offering extended hours this week with Ravenclaw volunteers as tutors. “Just writing and trying to get my mind off of the N.E.W.T.S.”
“Gotcha. Are you ever going to let me read those?” He gestures at the nearly filled journal in my lap.
“Maybe. I don’t really want to share them.” Hidden amongst the pages are how I really feel. Reality spattered across fictional pages- a cover for my own self-therapy within ink.
“So why are you so worried about the exams? You know we are both going to be okay. We’ve spent hours studying over the course of the year. You know the material.”
I exhale deeply, allowing his words to hang in the air around us. “You’re right I guess. We should probably get some sleep.”
He studies me for a moment before speaking. “What is it? What is it really?”
“Don’t start. That ‘off to bed’ excuse is just a cover. Talk to me.” He looks around. “There’s no one else in here but us.”
I feel tears well up in my eyes as I try to choke back down the thing that has been eating me alive for years.
“Oh y/n,” his arms pull me into his chest.
“I think I’m broken, Charlie.”
“Shhh, no you’re not.” His voice is soft and filled with concern.
“Yes I am. I’m not like anyone else.”
“That isn’t a bad thing. What do you mean, love?”
I sit up and try to wipe my eyes. My best friend since childhood is sitting here and I can’t believe he still hasn’t noticed the pattern in my life. “I’m not like everyone, Charlie. I can’t hold down a relationship at all. My family thinks there is something wrong with me and they just don’t understand. I can’t make them. I don’t feel ready. How am I supposed to build a life after graduation? How am I supposed to hold down a job if I can’t hold down a relationship with another person for longer than a month?”
The blue in his eyes clouds over, searching me with a new curiosity. “You aren’t broken. Other people having issues isn’t your fault.”
“But it is my fault Charlie. It is.” Hot streams run from my eyes to my chin, dripping off onto my criss-crossed legs. “I can’t give them what they want. I can’t want them the way they want to be wanted. I’ve tried, I really have, but it makes me sick to even think about it.”
“Are you talking about sex?” He asks, head tilted.
“Yes, and everything related. I want to hold their hands, I want to kiss them, I want to hold them and love them but they always want more.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, preparing for the inevitable clapback against my confession.
“You aren’t broken. You aren’t alone. You still love people, you desire romance, and you don’t want the sexual part. It turns your stomach, it throws you off, and that’s okay. There’s a name for that.”
“Yeah.” I stare at the floor to my left. “Screw-up. Freak. Robot.”
My eyebrows crinkle as my eyes glance back over to meet his waiting ones.
“You’re asexual, or theres a chance that you are. There’s nothing wrong with you. If you didn’t desire romance you could also be aromantic, but I know that’s not the case. You experience attraction, just none of sexual nature, and you still desire non-sexual closeness with a romantic partner.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you either. I’m like you, but you probably didn’t know that.”
“Girls throw themselves at you all the time. You are a prefect, seeker for the quidditch team, class clown, master of care of magical creatures.”
“Yes, and it probably looks like I turn them down because I’m busy, but that’s not why.”
“So we are ace?” I ask, trying the new term out for the first time. Something about the word feels right.
He nods, shaggy mop moving softly. “It’s a bit funny actually. People who don’t understand would be puzzled at why I say having our orientation is a good thing, but it gives us time to focus on more important things like our work and solid friendships. Our relationships, if we want them, are built on things longer lasting than physical or sexual attraction.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “I suppose you are right. That explains why I preferred writing and friendships to any of my past partners. They provide something lasting and dependable that I enjoy.”
“Exactly. My thing is dragons, but you already know that.” I can’t help but giggle as he states the obvious. “What you don’t know is that I got that job opening at the sanctuary in Romania.”
“What!?!?” I leap off of the couch. “Charlie Weasley why didn’t you tell me before?” He stands up as I tackle him with a hug.
“I didn’t know until breakfast this morning and you weren’t there.” He says.
“I’m so happy for you! Oh my goodness!” There is a swelling in my chest, pride for this boy who deserves so much. “Does your mum know? Mrs. Molly is going to flip out!”
“She wasn’t happy when I applied, but she said she would let me go.” Charlie runs his hand through his hair, a knowing look in his eye.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I release him from my embrace and narrow my eyes, trying to ignore the reality that he will be moving thousands of miles away in a matter of months.
“You know that whole issue you’ve been having with a plan for after Hogwarts?”
“Yes.” I raise an eyebrow.
“What? I swear if you don’t tell me-”
“I want you to come to Romania with me.”
“I wrote the manager and there’s another position open. I need someone to record and document everything. I couldn’t think of anyone more qualified than you.”
“Are- are you serious?” I ask in disbelief.
“He said it’s yours if you want it.” Charlie reaches takes my hand and squeezes it softly. “I really want you to go.”
“I’ll think about it. I really will.” I can’t imagine a life where he is out of reach, no one else has ever understood me or supported me as unconditionally as Charlie.
“Okay.” He opens his arms slowly, apprehensive as always, and I fold myself into them. “So are you okay?”
“I’m better.” I breathe in the scent of his shirt, feeling more at ease than I have in recent memory. “Thank you, so much. Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome. This is what friends do. Now, you’ve had a long day so please go get some sleep. We can talk again tomorrow.”
“Night.” I say as he lets me go.
“Y/n dear? Will you and Charlie please come help me with these dishes?” Mrs. Weasley calls from the kitchen. We excuse ourselves from the table and carry the few remaining plates with us into the kitchen.
I’ve been living in the Burrow for a week now following the conclusion of exams and my years at Hogwarts. After visiting with my own family I came to stay with Charlie. It is one last week to change my mind, and my mother thought it would be a good idea to test run being together before the move. I’m not concerned at all, but it brings her and Mrs. Molly peace, so I’m letting them have it.
“Here you go Mrs. Weasley.” I say, passing her the empty plate. She carefully places it in the sink before taking another from Charlie.
“Thank you, dears.” She begins soaping up the dishes and turns her head to speak. “So are you two ready for your adventure?”
“Absolutely! I got word that they have a new Norwegian Ridgeback that we will get to work with.”
“That Charlie,” I emphasize. “-will get to work with.”
“Ah, come on now. You know you’ll be out there with me sometimes.”
“Yes, but you forget the part where I don’t want to be burned or slashed to death.” I cross my arms and stare him down.
Mrs. Molly shakes her head with a smile.
“What?” I ask, picking up a worn dish towel to dry the plates as she rinses them.
“What Mum?” Charlie again poses, stepping between his mother and I to rinse.
She stops washing, looking back and forth between Charlie and I. “Arguing like a married couple already.”
“Mrs. Weasley!” We shout.
“I’m just saying. The two of you are moving to Romania alone, you didn’t think I knew something was going on?”
“We are just friends-” Charlie’s cheeks are nearly as red as his hair and mine feel the same.
“Mhm, your father and I said that. Now we have 7 children.”
“All due respect, we really are just friends.”
“Oh.” She looks a bit crestfallen at my confirmation. “Well then, sorry for making things awkward. Charlie, I think your father needs help out in the garage. Go see what he needs, yeah?”
“Okay mum.” He raises an eyebrow and hands me a plate, eyes apologetic as he leaves.
Half an hour later the kitchen is clean and the house is quiet. The other kids are outside playing quidditch while Charlie helps his dad, leaving Molly and I in the house alone. I hear the tinkling of cups on saucers behind me, and turn to find Mrs. Weasley pouring two cups of tea.
“One cube of sugar or two?” She asks.
“Two please.” I fold the brown towel into quarters and place it back beside the sink. She presses the smooth porcelain of the cup into my hands before sitting down across the small table in the corner.
“So dear, how was the end of your school year?”
“It was okay, I suppose. Rather uneventful. N.E.W.T.S. were stressful, but I’m sure Charlie told you all about that.”
“Of course. He wrote home more those last few weeks than he ever did the entirety of his time at Hogwarts.”
“I can’t blame him. There’s a strange sort of business that somehow leaves the castle feeling empty. That’s quite the contrary to what one would originally think, but it makes sense if you experience it.”
“I don’t doubt you, darling.” She sips her tea, measuring her next words as carefully as the cream she added to her cup. “I was asking because your name appeared more often than normal. I couldn’t help but wonder if something more was happening between the two of you. I apologize for prying earlier, that wasn’t my intention.”
“It’s quite alright.” I take a sip and map the tea as it glides down into my stomach. “We really are just close friends Mrs. Weasley. He’s been there for me since we were children, and he understands me like no one else does.”
She smiles. “Well that’s good, dear. He said the same about you.”
“He thinks the world of you. That’s why I thought that maybe something was going on. He’s never really brought girls home and sometimes I worry that he’s never going to find anyone. Is that irrational? He’s such a good boy; I just can’t help but worry. Arthur suggested that maybe he was interested in boys, and that’s perfectly okay, but there’s never been any evidence for that.”
“He’s always been so focused on his work that he hasn’t worried about girls or otherwise. He was a bit flirty with them at times, like every other boy, but I don’t think he wanted to commit unless he knew he had the time.” I pray that my answer will suffice. He obviously hasn’t told them what he told me.
“Okay. Thank you, dear. I’m not trying to put you in a tough spot. I was just wondering if you knew anything. Do you think there’s a chance he will slow down in Romania?”
“I have no way of knowing.” I say. Probably not, but I can’t be the one to tell her that.
“Y/N!” Charlie yells through the house. “Come on! We need one more player.”
“Sounds like you’re needed elsewhere.” Molly says.
“Thank you for the tea.” I say, heading towards the empty sink.
“Don’t mention it, dear. Just leave the cup, I’ll get it in a moment. The kids are going to get impatient.”
“Thank you. Coming Charlie!” I shout, beginning to hurry towards the back door. He holds it open as I run out. “Last one to your brothers is a rotten egg!”
He laughs, taking off behind me. “You don’t stand a chance Y/L/N!”
“Yeah right!” About the time that I open my mouth I feel arms wrap around my torso, pulling me backwards with a jerk. Internally I begin to feel panic at the unwanted contact.
“Run Charlie!” Bill nearly deafens me.
“Cheater!” My vocal chords strain. “Bill I swear if you don’t let me go I’m going to kick you.”
He releases me immediately but I will still lose. My pulse slowly returns to normal and I join the other members of the family for the game. Charlie sees my unease and shoots me an apologetic glance.
I never was one for physical contact unless I completely trusted a person. Bill is not one of those people and it’s nothing against him, he’s lovely, it just makes me uncomfortable. I always thought I was strange, but Charlie is the same way and any close contact without trust and strong emotions attached makes him uncomfortable. The start of the game soon steals these thoughts, and I refuse to lose.
It has been six months since Charlie and I moved to Romania. We have been living together in a small house near the sanctuary and life couldn’t be sweeter.
I scratch away at the papers in front of me. Documenting dragon activity is not as simple a job as it would sound, and the new Romanian Longhorn I have been cataloging is no exception.
The radio on my desk crackles to life and a panicked voice from the sanctuary announces a lockdown state of emergency. One of the handlers has been injured and is currently trapped in an enclosure.
Heat rises into my face and my heartbeat becomes an accelerating drum in my ears. Who? Who is it?
“Come back!” I shout at the radio. “Who is it?” Please not Charlie, anyone but Charlie I pray. The airways remain silent and I’m left in silent panic when the sun sets.
There’s the jostling of a lock and a shout over the sound of a closing door. “I’m back!” Charlie tosses his pack down.
“Thank Merlin! I was so worried!” I nearly tackle him in a hug as relief floods my mind. “They said someone was trapped but they didn’t say who.”
“Oh no!” He holds me closer. “That was Thomas. His leg was broken when he didn’t dodge a tail swipe and it took four of us to get him out.”
“Are you okay?” I back up, scanning his body from head to toe for injuries. “Oh your arm.” What appears to be a deep gash is evident on his right forearm.
“That’s nothing. It’s okay really. They stitched it up for me back at the sanctuary.” He rolls the shredded sleeve up so that I can admire the row of neat x’s.
“Absolutely. I need to go get a shower, but I’ll be out in a minute, yeah?”
“Okay, toss the shirt outside when you go to get in so that I can add it to the pile for mending.”
“Fine, little Molly.” He rolls his eyes as he heads to the bathroom.
When he returns I’m on the couch stitching his sleeve back together. It’s become a common routine that I’ll mend his clothes at night while he finds a record to play. We will sit up for hours talking about our days, and tonight I’m especially grateful. For a few hours I honestly thought he wouldn’t be coming home.
That’s what this place has become, or is it the place? I look up as he places the first record of the night onto the turntable. Before the needle drops onto the vinyl a feeling drops into my stomach. I don’t want to be without him ever. I want this. I want him.
I watch the muscles in his back move through his sweater as his fingers skim the collection on the shelf. He’s beautiful, not in the ways that many would think, but as a person in his entirety. I wouldn’t dream of clawing my fingers on that skin, the thought makes me ill, but to touch it, to feel his warmth, his presence in this place. That’s all I want. He’s my best friend. What is this feeling? Nothing has changed, but something feels different. For years I’ve been thinking this was friendship, but could it be something else?
In a flash the years tumble behind my eyes, a kaleidoscope of memories. The two of us awake all night studying, laughing by the lake, drawing dragons when we were 14 for a magical creatures class, graduation, racing brooms, leaving for summers, reuniting on the platform. I remember the warmth of his hugs, the safe haven he provides, how he always knows the right words and never hesitates to say them. His brutal honesty is helpful, and his heart is more pure than anything I’ve ever known.
“Hey Charlie?” I ask as he turns to join me on the couch.
“Do you remember that night in the common room when you explained what we are?”
“Of course.” He kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “What about it?”
“Attraction- what I mean to say is, do you ever have trouble differentiating between romantic and platonic attraction?”
“Sometimes. Without the whole sexual attraction thing I rely more firmly on emotional attachment. More often than not, that develops through a friendship, and when it changes over to romantic attraction it can be hard to differentiate. There is a difference, but it can be confusing.”
I nod my head, ignoring the lump in my throat.
“Why?” Charlie tilts his head, puppy-like.
“You do know I love you, right?” The three words are no stranger to his ears.
“Of course.” The tired lines around his eyes stretch as his left eyebrow raises. “I scared you today, didn’t I?”
I nod as the Beatles sing from the shelf.
“Come here-” He opens his arms and I place his half-repaired shirt on the table before entering them.
There’s a gentle squeezing around my shoulders as my ear buries itself in his heartbeat.
“You hear that?” He asks. “That means I’m okay. I’m not going to leave you here.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to string a sentence together. “Will you not leave me ever?”
“Charlie-” I pause. “I love you, you’re my best friend.” His sweater catches on my thumb as I try to sit up. “I don’t know why, or what, or when. I don’t even know how- I- I- guess what I’m saying-” I can’t meet his eyes.
“What? What is it Y/N?” His fingers brush a wayward strand of hair from my face. The gesture is so innocent, so filled with admiration, trust, and love that my words break free.
“I want to see if there could be something else here. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose that, but I can’t see myself with anyone else. If you want, we can pretend this didn’t happen, but I had to say something.”
The silence between us is tangible, and still the record plays on. It starts with his eyes, a smile slowly stretching across his lips.
“You’re serious?” He asks cautiously.
“Yeah.” My eyes study the dark material of the couch.
I feel a palm on my cheek. “I have felt the same way, but I didn’t want to push you, and I didn’t know what you would think.”
I nuzzle my cheek against his open hand and meet his eyes. A puzzle piece slides into place somewhere inside my chest. This is comfortable. This is right. There is no expectation here; nothing is required but affection and respect. This is love, the kind I have looked for, the kind I was scared I would never find because I’m different. Loving differently isn’t a curse, but never learning that, is. And after all this time, all the searching and fear about love and a future, it’s here in front of me, with a heartbeat steady in my ear.
