For Elizabeth. Ily

Word Count: 10,036

i.

Charlie feels the chill wash over him. The block of ice seems to settle in his stomach, and he knows it's only a matter of time before the cold gives way to the numbness. Since Harry's death and the dark side's victory at the battle of Hogwarts, this feeling has almost been endless.

First, it had been Fred's death; only moments later, Percy had died in a desperate attempt to go after Rookwood. Bill was next. He and Fleur died side by side. Ginny put up a good fight against Bellatrix Lestrange, but she was no match. Their mother had Ginny's name on her lips as she died in an attempt to collect her daughter.

But the horror hadn't ended on the battlefield.

George had made it two weeks before the nightmares got too bad and the hopelessness was irreversible. Charlie found him in the loo, laying in a pool of his own blood. Their father is still alive, but he's damn near catatonic and hasn't spoken in months. And now…

"I don't think they wanted to hurt Ron," Neville says, as though this might provide some semblance of comfort. "They would have killed him, but they didn't."

"He's too important to the rebellion," Hermione says, frowning as she absently taps her finger against the soulmark on her arm. It's amazing that she can stay so calm and collected when her boyfriend has been captured. Charlie understands how she had quickly become one of the leaders, along with Kingsley and Minerva. "They will keep him alive long enough to get information."

Charlie can't help but laugh. He knows it's a wildly inappropriate time, and he doesn't blame the others for glaring at him. An apologetic smile on his lips, he clears his throat. "Sorry. I was just thinking my brother would live forever," he muses. "As loyal as he is, they'd have to keep him alive until the end of time."

Hermione smiles at that, but it's just a brief quirk of her lips that fades in an instant. Her attention returns to the terrier soulmark on her forearm. It's their only tie to Ron now, their only way to know he is still alive.

"What should we do?" Neville asks.

Silence. No one seems to have an answer, but that's hardly surprising. Everyone just seems to be winging it, barely managing to scrape by without losses.

"There's nothing we can do just yet," Kingsley says, his deep voice somehow melodic and soothing. For a moment, Charlie can pretend everything is okay. "Get some rest. We'll come back to this in the morning."

It isn't the answer Charlie wants, but it's one he should have expected. Maybe it's for the best. If they let things really sink in, they can act with proper preparation. Truth be told, though, Charlie wants to storm Malfoy Manor and take out as many Death Eaters as possible, even if it means dying. At least he will have died for a cause.

"Charlie?"

He shakes his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. Hermione stands before him, arms folded over her chest and brows raised. "Sorry. Did you say something?" he asks.

She sighs, tucking her bushy hair behind her ear before sitting beside him. "Are you okay?"

It's such a stupid question. None of them are okay anymore, not after that fateful defeat. All anyone can say is that some days are better than others.

But he knows she means well. Hermione is the cleverest woman he knows, and she loves Ron more than anything in the world. She's hurting just as much as Charlie is.

"I'm so tired of losing people," he says.

He's young; he shouldn't have had to deal with so many deaths already. His family, Tonks, so many others he's grown to care for in their secret base… So much pain, suffering, and death seem unnatural at his age.

Hermione rests her hand on his. Charlie can't help but smile. It's such a small gesture, but he relaxes ever so slightly. "We're going to get him back," she says, and there's so much conviction in her voice that Charlie doesn't doubt her for even a second.

"Yeah." He smiles. "I know we will."

…

His father doesn't even glance up when Charlie sits beside him. Charlie can't remember the last time his father spoke or responded at all. Something broke inside the older man the night of the battle. Charlie feels that same something pulling taut within his mind, threatening to snap. No one should be able to handle this much.

"Brought you some soup," Charlie says, lifting the bowl. He breathes in the warm scent of vegetables and beef. "It isn't as good as Mum's was, but it can fill you up."

No response. Charlie wonders if talking helps at all. Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin who sided with them both during and after the battle, says talking may be able to help bring his father back. Charlie thinks he's too far gone.

At least he reacts when the spoon is pressed against his lips. He opens his mouth and allows Charlie to feed him. His mouth closes, and he chews, looking straight ahead and not acknowledging anything else.

"Ron was taken," he tells his father before pausing to blow on the steaming spoonful of broth and carrots. "Hermione's soulmark is still strong. He's going to be okay."

It takes several seconds for Charlie to realize he's crying. He sets the spoon back in the bowl and wipes his eyes.

"We're going to be okay," he says, offering his dad a smile.

His dad doesn't respond.

…

Ron is four. He stands in Charlie's doorway, shuffling his feet nervously. "Char, can you play with me?"

It isn't fair. Ron is a little kid; why can't he play with Ginny or the twins?

Charlie groans, but his little brother gives him those puppy dog eyes. How can he refuse?

"Yeah. Fine," Charlie says, sliding off his bed. "Know how to play chess?"

The scene changes. Ron is eight and screaming. The Burrow is always noisy, but this sound is enough to pull Charlie from his nap. He's on his feet and rushing outside.

Ron is sprawled out on the lawn, trying to crawl on his belly. A gnome grips each of his ankles and holds him down.

"Char! Help!"

Charlie doesn't hesitate. He grips the closest gnome before tossing it. There's no strategy, no care. All he wants is to keep the bloody things away from his brother. He pulls the second one off and chucks it far enough away that he doesn't have to worry about it anymore.

"You okay?" Charlie asks, kneeling beside Ron.

His little brother is banged up. The gnomes have left long scratches over his ankles. His knees are scraped, and his chin is already beginning to bruise.

Charlie helps him to his feet. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

Charlie wakes, heart hammering in his chest as he bolts upright. His forehead beaded with cold sweat, and it takes him several moments to remember where he is and what's happened. When it hits him, he leans forward, resting his face in his palms.

"Ron will be okay," he tells himself, but it sounds as hollow and empty as any other reassurance he's heard or offered over the past few months.

It isn't enough. Sitting here, safely tucked away isn't the answer, and it won't bring his little brother back. Besides, safe and good has never been his style; why should he start now? Shouldn't he be allowed to be a little reckless? With everything that is currently going on, hasn't he earned the right to throw caution to the wind and actually do something?

He rubs his temples, laughing softly. It's foolish and he knows it, but he can't bring himself to care. He's always gone out of his way to do everything he can in order to protect Ron. Why should he stop now?

He has an idea. It isn't a smart idea, and maybe it isn't good, but it's the best he's got. The others won't like it, but he doesn't care. They won't be able to come up with a plan beyond storming every known Death Eater headquarters and hoping for the best. That isn't good enough. It will only lead to more bloodshed and more senseless deaths.

His mind made up, Charlie lays back down and pulls the sheet over him. He doesn't fall back asleep. Instead, he stares at the ceiling with wide, sleepless eyes, and he hopes the others will see things his way.

…

"Absolutely not, Mr. Weasley!" Minerva says, using that stern tone that ought to be reserved for mischievous eleven-year-olds caught out of bed after curfew.

"It is too dangerous," Kingsley agrees, shaking his head. "There are better ways to go about this."

Only Hermione seems to be giving Charlie her full attention. Eyes narrowed and lips pursed, she tugs at her hair. Charlie can't read her thoughts, but he can imagine the sort of inner monologue that might be running through her head. She has so much more to lose than the other two.

Several moments pass before Hermione seems to make her decision. She sits a little straight and holds her head high, easily drawing all attention to herself. When this is all over, Charlie thinks she should try to become Minister. She would be good at it.

"I don't think we should dismiss this idea," she says. "We have talked about having spies on the other side. Before the battle, we had Severus, and–"

"Spies are one thing, Ms. Granger," Minerva interrupts. "Mr. Wealsey is too close to this; it's too personal."

"One might argue that could be for the best," Kingsley reasons, seeming to switch stances. "If his main mission is to save his brother, would it really be such a terrible thing for him to be so involved?"

Charlie can't believe his luck. If it goes to a vote, and he has two of them on his side, it's perfect.

"Let it be known that I do not approve," Minerva says with a heavy sigh. She seems to know she's outnumbered. Closing her eyes, she pinches the bridge of her nose. Silence hangs in the air, and it is almost maddening. "Congratulations, Mr. Weasley. You shall become our first agent."

…

"Clear your mind," Hermione instructs. "If I can get inside your mind, the Dark Lord will be able to as well."

Charlie groans. They've been at it for nearly an hour. He's tired and hungry, and his head is beginning to hurt. "Since when were you an expert on Occlumency?" he grumbles.

She smiles. "I read about it while we were on the run. Ron would tease me, and–" Her next words are swallowed by a sob.

Charlie reaches out and rests a hand on her shoulder. "I know it hurts."

"He's my soulmate," she says.

Charlie looks at his own soulmark. The dragon is larger than most soulmarks and takes up most of his forearm. His mother would tell him his soulmark is bigger than most people's so his soulmate would find him more easily, but Charlie still hasn't met them yet. He can't imagine what Hermione must be feeling right now. The love of soulmates is said to be deeper than any love, barring that of a parent.

"It's only been a day, and I feel like the world is collapsing around me. I can see that it isn't, but it… Sometimes I can't even remember how to breathe."

Charlie pulls her into a hug, holding her close. For the first time since he's known her, Hermione breaks down. She clings to him, and her tears quickly soak through his shirt.

He imagines she's cried alone in the privacy of her own room, but, for everyone else's sake, she has put on a brave face in public and acted as a fearless leader. When Hagrid carried Harry's body back, Hermione had cried out, but she had held her head high. When Luna Lovegood was captured and made an example of before being publicly executed, Hermione had squeezed Ron's hand and stayed strong as she gave a rallying speech.

"Sorry." She laughs awkwardly as she pulls away, sniffling and swiping her palms over her eyes. "You must think I'm so silly."

"I think you're a lot of things, but silly isn't one of them."

Her lips quirk into a shaky smile. She clears her throat and lifts her wand. "Right. Let's try again, shall we?"

…

Charlie examines the Galleon curiously. He knows the DA at Hogwarts had used enchanted Galleons as a way to keep in touch, but he's never seen one up close.

"Impressive piece of magic, isn't it?" Minerva asks.

Charlie nods.

"Filius has made a few adjustments to it," she explains. "Direct communication is now possible. Just hold down the center of the coin, and it will begin transmitting here. We will have someone stay with the Galleon at all times."

"You still don't like this," Charlie says.

Minerva sighs deeply and reaches out, squeezing his shoulder gently. "I know that you are more than capable, Mr. Weasley. I was your professor." She drops her hand to her side and looks away, like the wall is the most interesting thing in the room. "But I've already lost so many of my students. You can hardly blame me for wanting to keep the rest of you safe."

"I suppose not."

They've all lost loved ones in the war. Some have lost so much more than others. Charlie wonders how it must feel for Minerva, knowing she has students on both sides of the war. No matter the outcome of any battle, she will lose someone.

"I'm coming back," he tells her after the long stretch of silence begins to feel too suffocating. "Don't worry. I'm bringing Ron back with me."

When she looks at him again, she smiles, but Charlie can see the sadness in it. "I'm sure you will," she says. "Your whole family has always been stubborn. If anyone can do it, it will be a Weasley."

…

It isn't too late to turn back. He hasn't even gotten to the end of the street yet. It would be so easy to turn around and go back. There might be an easier solution.

But he doesn't. It doesn't matter that he's terrified and his heart is pounding so hard against his chest that he worries it might find a way to break through the bone. Ron needs him; Charlie will not let his baby brother down.

Head held high, he straightens his posture and walks to the street sign. There's an old sock at the base of the sign. Anyone else who passed by wouldn't even spare it a second glance, but Charlie knows better. Travel has been restricted for the rebels. The corrupt Ministry is keeping an eye on all channels they can monitor. Even though Apparition is safe enough, it's hard to get close enough to any spots that might prove useful.

Charlie checks his watch. Half past five in the morning. He didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. It doesn't matter, he supposes. No one else knows what he's doing. The rumors will begin soon enough, and they'll think that Charlie Weasley, broken and twisted after suffering tragedy after tragedy, has betrayed them. Only Hermione, Minerva, Kingsely, and a few other higher-ranking members will know the truth.

He kneels and grips the grimy sock. Portkey travel is, for the most part, strictly monitored. Luckily for the Order, Filius can charm damn near anything.

The street around him begins to blur, and he is jerked forward. There's no turning back now.

The trip is over quickly. Charlie lands with a thud on an uncomfortable patch of rocks. Filius had arranged for him to arrive close enough to set off their alarms, but Charlie wishes he could have made the landing a bit softer. With a groan, he climbs to his feet, stretching and wiping away rocks that have pressed into his arms.

"Don't move!"

He's surrounded in an instant. A group of men form a circle around him. At least a dozen wands are pointed at him.

He now realizes how very real this is. He could easily die before he even has a chance to get inside and execute his plan. This only hardens his conviction; there's no way in hell he's going down that easily.

Charlie raises his hands, palms facing outward to show he is not a threat. "My name is Charlie Weasley," he says.

"We know who you are, Weasley," one of the men says, lacing the surname with acidic hatred. "The question is: what the hell are you doing here?"

Charlie swallows dryly. He takes a deep breath and ignores the way he trembles from fear. He's come this far, and he will not let his emotions get the best of him now.

"I've lost everything," he says. "The Order of the Phoenix is weak. Why should I put my faith in them?"

The words hurt him to say. He doesn't mean them, but they still seem to burn his throat. He swallows down the guilt, refusing to let it control him.

"I want to join you," he continues. "I will serve the Dark Lord faithfully."

"All this to get your brother back?" another Death Eater laughs.

"Keep him." This hurts the worst. "He was always a pain in the ass anyway."

The others seem stunned into silence. For several moments, no speaks. They all exchange confused glances as they try to figure out the punchline.

"I think Malfoy will want to see this," the first Death Eater decides.

Relief floods Charlie's body. He slumps slightly, grinning. As impossible as it seems, he's done it. Unfortunately, he knows it will only get harder from here.

"Stupefy!"

Charlie doesn't see the spell coming. It hits, and the world around him goes black.

ii.

Charlie blinks awake, his head throbbing. He tries to stand but quickly realizes he's bound. A soft laugh escapes his throat. At least he's made it.

"I had to see this with my own eyes," comes a low, drawling voice.

Lucius Malfoy steps out of the shadows, brows raising. He looks rough. Charlie would have guessed that the Death Eaters would be well-off, but Lucius looks like he's been through hell. His blond hair is not sleek and elegant like it once was; instead, he looks clearly disheveled, like it's been at least a day since he's brushed it. There are bruise-like shadows under his eyes, and the stubble on his chin pulls the whole look together.

And yet his smile is still deadly. His lips draw back, revealing pearly white teeth, and Charlie is reminded of predators when they find prey.

"A Weasley, willingly coming to us," he muses, positively giddy at the thought. "And here I thought you were all completely stupid."

Charlie winces. He has a part to play, but that doesn't mean it's easy to listen to anyone insult his family. Somehow, he manages a smile. "Not all of us," he says. "I realize now that the smart thing to do is give up. I want to help."

"And you're sure this doesn't have anything to do with your little brother?" Lucius tips his head to the side, studying Charlie curiously. He's like a young dragon trying to size up a new handler to see if it can get a yummy new snack. "Because I would hate for you to go through all this hard work to find out the brat isn't here."

That's news to him. As far as the Order knows, valuable prisoners go to Malfoy Manor. Charlie keeps his face neutral, grateful for his years of playing poker at the Romanian sanctuary. "I thought I made myself clear," he says calmly. "My family doesn't matter. They've made their choices, and they've suffered the consequences. I'm here because I want to be."

Lucius considers this for several seconds. Finally, he shrugs. "I'm sure you won't be offended if we don't take you at your word. These are dangerous times, Weasley. Can't be too careful."

"You won't let me join?"

The Death Eater takes a step forward, circling Charlie and getting closer with each circuit. He comes to a stop, only inches away. With a gloved hand, he reaches out and pats Charlie's cheek. "If it was up to me, I would let you. See, I like imagining the look on your father's face if he found out, the idiot bastard. Unfortunately, that isn't my call. You'll have to prove yourself."

"And how do I do that?"

Lucius laughs and turns his back on Charlie, slowly walking toward the steps. "I'm not sure if you really want to know the answer to that, Weasely."

Before Charlie can ask, Lucius is up the stairs and closing the door behind him.

He takes a deep breath, nodding to himself. They had guessed it wouldn't be an easy task to get in. Even before the war, becoming a Death Eater had been a process. He can only imagine what will have to happen now for him to gain entry.

It doesn't matter. Ron's life is in danger, and Charlie will do whatever it takes. His family is small and broken now, but it's still his; it's still good. If he has to walk through hell to get his brother back, he will.

Charlie tugs at his restraints, but he's bound too tightly. He wishes he could reach in his pocket and use the Galleon. The others don't even know if he's still alive.

With nothing else to do, Charlie leans back and closes his eyes. It strains his neck, and the chair's hard back is miserable on his spine, but he makes the best of it. Even if he won't actually sleep, he can relax and gather his strength. Something tells him he's going to need it in order to endure whatever tests lay ahead.

…

"Wakey, wakey!"

Something sharp digs into his arm, and Charlie jerks awake with a scream. A cold, maniacal laugh fills the dim cellar, and Charlie feels sick. He shouldn't be surprised to find himself face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange. Her sister is a Malfoy.

And yet it makes him want to break free and lunge at her. He doesn't need a wand; his hands can do whatever needs to be done.

He inhales, forcing himself to find some semblance of tranquility. "Didn't realize I dozed off," he says, and he's glad his voice sounds more apologetic than angry.

The woman grins wickedly, caressing her wand as she moves closer. "It's okay," she says, her voice sickeningly sweet, like the tone most adults use when talking to a baby. "Poor baby Weasley. Did the little dear lose his mummy weasel? And his sister weasel?" Her grin broadens so much that Charlie is afraid her face might split open. "How many brother weasels are dead too?"

Charlie's veins flood with heat. He swallows dryly, trying to bite back all the hatred that flows through his body. He thinks it might have been deliberate that they sent Bellatrix to see him. This, in and of itself, might be a test.

"I can't forgive your part in my family's murder," he says, and each syllable makes him despise her even more, "but I understand you were only doing what you had to do."

She throws her head back, letting out a shrill laugh. "What I had to do?" she repeats, fixing her dark eyes on him, her wild curls falling in her face. "Oh, dear boy, I enjoyed it. Especially your sister. Do you know how fun it is when they fight? Watching the fire in their eyes die…"

She's trying to provoke him. There's no doubt about it in his mind. Charlie closes his eyes and breathes deeply. "I wouldn't know," he mutters.

"Don't worry. You will."

Before he can even think of a response, Bellatrix mutters a spell and his bindings fall away. Charlie opens his eyes and looks down. He's free. His eyes flicker to Bellatrix. She's armed; he isn't. Would he be able to do anything? He knows how skilled she is, and he doesn't like his odds.

"Thanks," he says, stretching his arms and smiling. "Those were really cutting into my skin."

She's silent for several seconds as she studies him. There's something different in the way she watches him. Lucius had been blatant, aggressive, like he'd wanted to destroy Charlie right then and there. Bellatrix, on the other hand, has a more calculated gaze, like she wonders where she needs to press to make him shatter completely.

She steps back and lifts her wand. "Crucio!"

Charlie falls from the chair, landing painfully on the damp floor. He barely registers the skin around his chin splitting open. The curse grips his body, setting every nerve on fire. He screams as his limbs twist and contort in unnatural ways.

"Crucio!"

Again, the curse finds home. Somehow it manages to intensify the pain. An infinite number of needles seem to press into his body, amplifying his burning nerves.

Charlie tries to take a deep breath, but it is pitiful and strangled, and his lungs begin to ache. He tries again. No luck. His breathing is shallow, and it only makes everything so much worse.

"Are you sure you want to join us?" Bellatrix asks sweetly. "Or does the itty bitty weasel want to trick us?"

"I want to join," he says, gasping for breath. He's grateful for this moment, however brief, of relief. "I want to prove myself."

"We'll see about that. Crucio!"

He screams again. His throat is already growing sore, but he can't stop himself. The pain sinks down into his bones, finding home in his marrow.

They had assumed this would happen. Torture seems to be their answer for everything: extracting information, making an example of someone, proving loyalty. Unfortunately, there hadn't been a way to prepare him for it. No one in the headquarters could muster up the ability to perform the Cruciatus Curse.

Again and again, she lashes out, sending the curse at him. His body feels like it's been pushed to the limits, like he's suddenly made up of nothing but bruises and exposed nerves, and he's so afraid his mind is on edge of shattering. He can't scream anymore; his throat is so raw that he can only make a soft rasping sound. His eyes burn so badly from his salty tears.

And then it's over. The pain fades, and he's left trembling and gasping from the aftershock of it. Bellatrix kneels beside him and lightly scrapes her nails down his bicep. "I thought you might break," she tells him. "I was so looking forward to it."

"S-sorry to disappoint," he says, wincing at the strain it puts on his throat.

She chuckles as she rakes her fingers through his hair and roughly pulls the ginger strands, forcing him to look at her. "Not disappointed at all." The smile on her lips makes his stomach twist into knots. "If you cross me, all I'll have to do is press just a little harder."

With that, she climbs to her feet again and waves her wand. He isn't forced back into the chair. Instead, shackles snake out of the walls and secure themselves around his ankles. It isn't ideal, but it's an improvement.

Bellatrix lingers for a moment longer, studying him with those cold eyes. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she disappears up the stairs. Charlie waits, counting to a hundred after she's gone. Only when he's certain that he's safe and alone does he dare to pluck the Galleon from his pocket.

He doesn't know who they will have guarding the other end of the communication Galleon. Hardly anyone knows he's here, so he suspects there won't be many guard changes.

He presses down on the center of the gold coin. "Hello?" he says, his voice barely audible from the strain. "Can anyone hear me?" He releases the center.

Silence. Charlie resists the urge to throw the coin. What if they didn't test it properly, and it's useless?

"Charlie?" Neville's voice comes through, flooded with relief. "Is something wrong? You sound sick."

Charlie sucks in a deep breath. The sudden rush of air stings as it dries out his throat. "Cruciatus," he says. "Bellatrix."

More silence. Charlie doesn't like the delays.

"Are you okay?" Neville asks hesitantly.

"Fine. Look, Ron isn't here. Think you can have Greengrass reach out and see if any Slytherins know where he might be?"

"I can try."

"Good. I've got to go. I'll check in later."

He tucks the coin back into his pocket and leans back. Even though it hasn't been long since he's woken up from a nap, he's exhausted. How long had Bellatrix tortured him? It feels like forever, and he can still feel the pain. He wonders if it will ever fade.

Carefully, twisting and turning awkwardly, he stretches out and lays on the cold floor. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep this time.

…

Ginny is there. She sits at the kitchen table, staring at Charlie with cold eyes. "She killed me," she says. "She killed me and Mum."

Charlie sits across from her. "I know." He leans forward, scrubbing his palms over his face in frustration. "I know, Gin. I'm sorry."

"Not yet, but you will be."

Charlie looks up, her tone sending a chill through his body. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. All he can do is watch, frozen and wide-eyed as ropes begin to wrap around his body, tightening until he can't breathe.

Ginny lifts her wand, smiling. "Crucio!"

Charlie wakes, lifting his hands defensively as he sits up. It takes a moment to bring himself back to the real world and figure out what woke him. Only when someone clears their throat does he realize he isn't alone.

The Malfoy boy stands before him, awkwardly holding a plate of food. Like his father, the boy–Draco, he remembers his brothers calling him–doesn't look as elegant and arrogant as Malfoys are meant to look. He is disheveled and his pale eyes have the undeniable look of someone who is haunted.

"They said I need to bring you lunch."

Lunch doesn't look particularly appetizing. It's little more than bread, cheese, and a few grapes. Still, Charlie feels like he hasn't eaten in days, and his body is still so weak from the torture. He reaches up, grateful.

Draco hands him the plate but pauses, his eyes locked on Charlie's forearm. "Is that your soulmark?" he asks.

The question catches Charlie off guard. No one ever actually asks. "Um… Yes," he answers because it should be obvious. Everyone's soulmarks are in the same spot.

"You know they'll take it away, don't you?" Draco asks, and his tone is soft enough to confuse Charlie. He gestures to his own forearm. There is no soulmark, only the skull and serpent that marks his allegiance to Voldemort. "Soulmarks mean you're loyal to someone else. The Dark Lord only accepts full devotion."

Charlie has always known about the Dark Mark, but he had never considered its location. He glances at his dragon, then back at Draco's skull and serpent. "Did you have a soulmark?" he asks, because he knows not everyone does.

"Yes."

"What was it?"

Draco shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. It's gone now, Weasley."

"That doesn't mean you can't still find your soulmate," Charlie insists, popping a grape into his mouth and relishing the juice that rolls down his throat.

"What do you care, Weasley?" the younger man snaps, folding his arms over his chest. "What bloody good would it do to fall in love in this world?" Pink flushes his pale cheeks, and he looks away. "I've got to go."

Charlie wishes he would stay. There's something calming about his presence, and Charlie likes being around someone who doesn't act like they want him dead. Draco walks away, hesitating at the top step. "I'm sorry about your brother," he says. "Never could stand Ron, but… This war isn't right, you know? I hope you don't go through with this. I wish I could take mine back."

Charlie wants to ask him what he means, but Draco disappears behind the door. Alone once more, Charlie sighs and focuses on his food. It hurts to swallow, but his stomach is empty, and he is grateful for the sustenance.

His eyes drift to the door. Why does he want Draco to come back through it? Why would he find comfort in being around a Death Eater?

He touches his fingertips to his soulmark, frowning. Something about it had caused a change in Draco's behavior. It was almost like Draco had recognized it somehow.

"Oh."

He thinks he understands, but, Merlin! He can't help hoping he's wrong.

…

Charlie is strapped down again, completely helpless and immobilized. Rabastan Lestrange stands over him, glaring down at him. "I'm sure you were hoping for an audience with the Dark Lord," he says. "He is, admittedly, much more skilled at this than I am."

"Just be easy," Charlie chuckles, offering him a cheeky grin. "It's my first time."

The older man doesn't laugh. He lifts his wand. "Legilimens!"

He's so glad Hermione taught him to deal with this. Without her training, he would not have been prepared to feel the layers of his mind slowly peel away. He lets Rabastan in because blocking him out would be too suspicious. Even so, he constructs little barriers, taking special care to keep what's important away from prying eyes.

Fred's body is covered with dust and debris. Bits of stone pepper his hair. Even in death, he has a brilliant grin on his face, like the universe whispered one last joke before his life ended.

Percy's glasses are broken beside him. He looks so peaceful, and Charlie almost convinces himself that his brother is just asleep.

He watches as Bill pulls Fleur back. The green light crashes into his chest instead. Fleur isn't safe for long. With one last glance at her husband, she runs with her wand poised and ready to strike, only to meet the same fate within seconds.

Ginny puts up a fight. She's always been so brave and strong. It isn't enough; she falls like a ragdoll. Their mother doesn't hesitate. Somehow, she doesn't show that she's breaking down, even though she's lost four children and a daughter-in-law in the span of a few hours. "Not my daughter, you bitch!" But Bellatrix is quicker, and the Killing Curse strikes their mother's heart.

George isn't smiling when they find his body. He looks like a man too haunted by his demons. Even the promise of death couldn't bring him any relief.

His father doesn't look up. Again and again, Charlie comes to visit, but there is no change.

Hermione shakes her head, huffing. "I'm sorry, Charlie," she snaps. "In case you haven't noticed, we've all lost someone. The Order can't prioritize your grief just because you think you're special!"

The last one is a fake memory, staged in hopes of making his change of allegiance look believable. It still hurts. Hermione had broken down after saying it, and she had apologized for nearly an hour.

"Interesting," Rabastan notes. "Why would you side with us? We murdered your family."

"Why wouldn't I? At least you lot get things done. They were supposed to be my friends, and they don't give a damn about me! If I join you, at least I can have a chance to destroy them."

This seems to satisfy him. Rabastan doesn't poke and prod and try to force out more information. Once he has the answer, he turns on his heel and disappears up the stairs.

…

It goes like this for days. Charlie can only keep up with the passage of time because of the meals and his occasional chat with the Order.

They take turns. Bellatrix tortures him for hours, pushing him to the edge but never letting him fall over. Those are the days when he silently prays for death. Still, he stays strong and never spills his secrets.

Then there's Rabastan. He pries a little deeper, picking Charlie's brain apart without care or mercy. Charlie keeps the blocks in place, but sometimes the Death Eater is dangerously close to breaking down the barriers.

And then it's over. He makes it a full day without seeing anyone other than Draco.

"What's going on out there?" Charlie asks when Draco brings him a slice of ham and some cheese.

"They're deciding what to do with you."

Charlie doesn't like the sound of that. Has he failed to prove himself? Shouldn't the decision be easy? If they're having to decide, it can only mean that he's slipped up somehow. They've seen through him, and they're trying to decide if he should simply be executed or if he needs to become an example for others who might try to defy them.

"Don't worry," Draco says. "It's going to be okay."

"I know that," Charlie grumbles, and he's grateful his tone holds some conviction. He's always been a good poker player.

Draco smiles. "Do you really?"

"Yes."

The younger man snorts. "Whatever you say, Weasley."

Draco is a strange mystery. His brothers would complain about him during their school days. They would insist that he's awful, that the Weasley-Malfoy feud has no choice but to live on for another generation. Charlie had expected a monster.

Instead, he just sees a man who is lost and damaged. Maybe Draco had been terrible in past years, but he's soft now. He even seems to regret the Dark Mark on his arm.

"What are you staring at?" Draco asks, smoothing his hand over his white-blond hair.

"Nothing. Sorry. Just lost myself in thought."

"It's not too late for you," Draco tells him. "I could set you free, and you could run."

The offer catches him by surprise. Regretting his chosen path is one thing; actively entertaining the idea of committing treason against the Dark Lord is something else completely.

"I've made up my mind."

"Yeah? But what for? It doesn't make sense, because you Weasleys are so bloody noble. Why would you choose to come here? Here, of all places?"

"I just–"

"It doesn't matter. You should have left when you found out we don't have your brother."

Nothing makes sense right now. Draco doesn't sound like he's guessing. It's like he can read Charlie's mind somehow. His strength crumbles, and he hangs his head. This is how it ends. Draco is his final test, and he's failed. Draco will tell the others the truth, and this will have all been for nothing.

"You really are an idiot, Weasley," Draco sighs, shaking his head. "The universe is a bloody joke."

Draco doesn't bother to elaborate. With a glare at Charlie, he stalks off, shutting the door much harder than is actually necessary.

Once again, Charlie finds himself missing Draco's company almost immediately. He sighs, pushing his plate aside and leaning back, resting his head against the wall. The universe really is a joke.

He pulls out his Galleon, rolling it between his fingers. The knot in his stomach is too tight. He can't bring himself to contact them and tell them he's failed. Maybe it would be kinder than letting them find out upon his death, but he doesn't care. For now, he just wants peace and quiet if he can't have Draco.

…

Cold hands force him awake. Charlie blinks against the darkness, slowly recognizing the pale figure before him. Lord Voldemort looks just as despicable as he had back in May.

"A Weasley, eager to join my ranks," the monster muses, laughing like it's the funniest joke. "I've seen everything now."

"We tested him, my Lord," Lucius says. "From what we've gathered, his intentions are good."

Relief washes over him. He hasn't failed at all. Charlie bows his head to hide his satisfied smile, hoping it looks like he's showing reverence. "I promise," he says. "I only want to serve you."

Silence. Charlie doesn't dare to look up. He feels like it might ruin it somehow.

"Very well." Voldemort releases Charlie from his shackles. "The initiation will begin tomorrow night. Draco, show our guest to his room."

"Yes, my Lord."

Charlie can't believe it's really happening. He climbs to his feet. "Thank you," he says politely.

Draco refuses to look at him when he reaches Charlie. "This way. Come on."

He's done it. He's infiltrated the Death Eaters, and it's only a matter of time before he can find out where they're holding Ron. Nothing else can compare to the feelings of joy and accomplishment that flutter inside him.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Draco says when they're finally away from the others and standing in the hallway on the second floor.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a terrible liar, Weasley," Draco says, reaching over and pushing open the door. "Sweet dreams."

iii.

Sleep doesn't come, but Charlie hadn't expected it to. Even laying in the comfortable bed and sinking into the soft pillows, his mind is too restless, and his eyes refuse to close.

He lifts his arm. Pale moonlight filters in through the window, washing his freckled skin in a milky glow. He studies his dragon and sighs. Tomorrow, his soulmark will be gone. It feels like the greatest betrayal of all.

The door opens, and Charlie sits up, reflexively reaching for his wand. It isn't there; he hasn't earned the right to arm himself yet.

"Draco?" Charlie whispers, recognizing the slender build of the shadowy figure.

Draco moves closer and holds a finger to his lips, calling for silence. "Come on," he whispers. "We have to move quickly."

Charlie blinks rapidly, trying to understand this. Move? Why would he move? There's still so much for him to learn. If he abandons the mission now, he may never see his brother again.

"I have your wand," Draco explains. "There's a way out the back. It's unguarded because no one ever uses it."

Though it still doesn't make sense, Charlie slides out of bed, quickly fitting his feet into his trainers. "Where are we going?" he asks.

Draco doesn't answer. Instead, he just shakes his head and gestures for Charlie to follow him. It feels like a test, and Charlie hates it. He has a feeling Draco doesn't mean him any harm, but he still can't bring himself to trust him.

"My wand?" Charlie reminds him, holding out his hand.

"Once we're outside."

Charlie doesn't know why he's doing this. It goes against the plan he's laid out for himself, and he likes to think that even he isn't this reckless. Maybe he is. All he knows is a wiser man wouldn't take this stupid risk. Then again, he's never been accused of being a Ravenclaw.

He follows Draco out, taking care with each step. He isn't thin and nimble like Draco. His movements are more awkward, but he finds his rhythm. It's just like being back in Romania. One wrong move could easily mean the difference between living and becoming barbecue. Draco makes it easy. The two of them stick to the shadows, though the manor seems to be completely empty.

"Where are we going?" Charlie asks again once they've snuck out the back and are outside. Sure enough, there are no guards to greet them.

"You want your brother back, don't you?"

He's danced around it for so long, always offering excuses, always denying that he needs Ron back. Now, the illusion fades, and he nods. "I do."

Draco reaches out and takes him by the hand. There's a strange sensation, like his soulmark is sitting in front of a cozy fire. Warmth washes over his forearm, and there's no longer any doubt in his mind.

Draco Malfoy is his soulmate.

"Do you feel it too?" Charlie asks.

Draco nods his confirmation. "I guess you were right. You don't need to have a soulmark to find your soulmate."

Under ordinary circumstances, this would be cause for celebration. Having it confirmed that someone is your soulmate is supposed to be one of life's greatest pleasures. Unfortunately, there's no time to do anything more than offer Draco a smile.

"My soulmark was a dragon," Draco tells him. "It was identical to yours. That's how I knew."

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" Charlie presses, uneasy as the garden begins to shift into wilderness. They plunge deeper and deeper into the woods until Malfoy Manor has completely disappeared from sight.

Draco finally comes to a stop. "I know where Ron is," he says. "I think I can get him out."

"You'd do that?" Charlie asks incredulously. "You would honestly do that for me?"

Draco's lips quirk into an almost-smile. "You're my soulmate," he reasons. "Of course."

This isn't the type of devotional act Charlie would expect from a soulmate. This is treason that has every possibility to end in tragedy and ruin. Soulmate or not, Draco isn't obligated to go through with this.

The look of determination on the younger man's face says otherwise. "You're okay with travel by Apparition?"

"Not my preferred method," Charlie answers. "Makes me a bit motion sick."

Draco smirks. "I guess you'd better hold on to me then."

…

Apparition with Draco isn't completely awful. It still leaves Charlie feeling a little nauseated, but he'll manage.

"Here's your wand," Draco says. "You'll need it in case anything happens."

Charlie looks around, confused. He doesn't know where they are, but there's a nice house that looks just as elegant and fancy as Malfoy Manor.

"What's going on?"

"I already told you," Draco says. "I'm getting your brother back."

He starts to walk away, but Charlie catches him by the arm and pulls him back. "Wait…" He takes a deep breath, wondering how best to ask his question. "What will you do after this? You know you won't be able to go home."

Draco closes his eyes, his expression changing to something so sad, so vulnerable, that Charlie can feel his heart breaking. "I know," he confirms. "I'm a dead man if I get caught."

"You can join me," Charlie says. "The Order will protect you."

Silence. Charlie wishes Draco would give an answer. Instead, the blond leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Charlie's lips. "For luck," he says before turning and hurrying off.

Charlie wonders if all soulmates are this frustrating. He doesn't know what else to do, only that he can't follow Draco inside the manor. Feeling defeated, he stretches out in the grass, leaning against the trunk of a tree behind him.

The fresh air feels good on his lungs. Being trapped in the cellar for so long has really taken its toll on him. He looks up at the twinkling stars overheard, smiling as he studies them. Bill could name all the constellations and pick them out so easily. To Charlie, the stars just look like a mess of identical glowing shapes.

Time drags by slowly. Charlie pulls his Galleon out. Someone will be on hand. Maybe they could send backup and ensure the safe return of both Ron and Draco.

Exhaling deeply, he returns to coin to his pocket. He doesn't even know where he is. It's a nice idea, but it's hopeless. All he can do is hope for the best.

Once, he might have been worried Draco would betray him, but now he's at peace. They are soulmates, and, though he barely knows Draco, that is enough to make him trust him. Everything would be okay.

"We have to go."

Charlie is on his feet in an instant when he hears Draco's voice. He looks up, confused to see three figures heading his way. Draco is there, of course. Though he's dirty, bruised, and far too thin, Charlie is relieved to see Rom, unconscious and awkwardly supported between Draco and the stranger.

"Who's this?" Charlie asks, nodding at the tall, lithe boy with sandy hair and light freckles.

"Charlie Wealsey," Draco says, wincing as his foot catches on a root and he barely manages to right himself, "meet Theodore Nott."

"Pleasure," Charlie says, though he is on edge.

Nott. Another one of those families with a history of blindly following the dark side. Charlie wants to protest, but he keeps quiet. Doesn't Draco have the exact same history?

"What's the plan?" Charlie asks.

"We're going back to your secret base," Theodore answers.

"We?" Charlie looks between the two of them. Bringing Draco back is one thing, and he knows that will take a lot of explaining and convincing. Adding Theodore to the mix seems like a disaster waiting to happen.

"He just defied the Dark Lord and helped sneak a prisoner from his father's house," Draco says dryly. "Do you really think he'll be safe here?"

He has a point, and Charlie hates it. Things were so much easier when things could be explained away simply as us vs them. Now, it's gotten so complicated, and he can't bring himself to hate Theodore. He may be a Death Eater, but, without him, Ron would still be locked away and waiting for his inevitable execution.

"Fine," he says, sighing heavily. It isn't fair, but he will endure it because he has to. "But I'm not responsible for anyone else's reaction."

Theodore chuckles. "Won't be the first time I was hated by default," he says. "Let's go."

…

The arrival of two known Death Eaters goes about as well as Charlie would have guessed. The four of them arrive at the base. Ron is still blacked out and slung over Charlie's shoulder. Draco and Theodore stay a few steps back, like Charlie can somehow protect them from the upcoming fallout.

It only takes a minute for the panic to set in. They're halfway into the main room when someone screams. A moment later, wands are drawn and aimed at them.

"You're back," Neville says, grinning. "You did it."

But he's the only one who seems to find any good in the situation. The others in the room only have eyes for the two Slytherins. The air suddenly feels thicker with the tension, and Charlie takes a step back, getting closer to Draco. Maybe he can protect his soulmate; he just hopes it doesn't come down to that.

"What is the meaning of this?" Minerva stalks through the room, eyes narrowed at the commotion she's walked in on. Her eyes find Charlie, and she smiles. "Welcome back, Mr. Weasley. I wasn't aware that we were in the business of taking hostages. Isn't that the other side's style?"

Theodore snorts. "As if a Weasley could take me hostage. No offense, mate."

"None taken," Charlie says, though he wants to strangle the other man. The last thing they need is prideful arrogance to complicate matters further. "They are here of their own free will. They're the ones who saved my little brother, and they want to help."

"Why the hell would a bunch of Slytherins want to help?" Ernie MacMillan calls, leaning forward in his chair and fixing Draco and Theodore with murderous glances.

"Slytherin isn't the same thing as a Death Eater," Daphne says. "Some of us want to help."

"Not these two. They are actual Death Eaters."

"Maybe," Charlie says, "but Draco is my soulmate. He has renounced the Dark Lord's cause for me. Theodore is his friend, and if Draco trusts him, that's enough for me."

Silence hangs over them, only broken by whispered conversations between people who happen to be beside one another. Charlie swallows dryly. He hopes it will be enough to keep Draco and Theodore safe. There are no laws in place to protect soulmates. All he can do is wait and pray.

"We will test the two of them to make sure they mean us no harm," Minerva says. When Charlie starts to argue, she quickly adds, "Don't worry, Mr. Weasley. We are not sadists. We aren't going to torture them for information and confessions."

It does little to put his mind at ease, but he nods. Minerva is stern, but she is not cruel, and she has always been fair.

Charlie turns to Draco and takes him gently by the hand. "I'll see you soon," he says.

The blond nods, offering him a smirk. "Damn right," he chuckles.

The two Slytherins are escorted away. Charlie wants to run after them and stay by his soulmate's side to make sure he's okay, but he knows he can't. He has other priorities.

"Come on, Ronniekins," he murmurs, rubbing his brother's back. "Let's get you to the med bay."

…

It takes about half an hour for Poppy to stop trying to make Charlie leave Ron's bedside. He's gone through so much in order to get his little brother back; there's no way he's going to just walk away now.

Ron stirs, grumbling as his eyes slowly open. He bolts upright, arms raised defensively, eyes wild. "What… Where am I?"

"Welcome back, Ron," Charlie says, his heart fluttering when he finally gets the confirmation that his brother will be okay. He gets to his feet and steps closer, wrapping his arms around Ron.

His family has fallen apart. It is broken and twisted, and it is hardly recognizable anymore, but it is his, and there is hope.

Ron hesitates, but, after a few tense seconds, he finally wraps his slender arms around Charlie, squeezing him tightly. "Never thought I would miss your stupid face, Char," he laughs as Charlie lets go and returns to his chair. "What happened, anyway? How did you get me out?"

Charlie laughs. "It wasn't me, actually," he says. "It was Draco and his friend."

"Malfoy?" Ron asks, baffled by the revelation.

Charlie launches into the story. Maybe it would be kinder to spare the details, but he tells him anyway. By the end of it, Ron can't seem to do much else besides stare at him with a slack jaw.

"So… Yeah," Charlie says, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck.

"You mean Malfoy is your soulmate?"

Charlie snorts, eyes rolling. "Out of everything I just told you, that's all you took away?"

Ron shrugs. "I mean. It's a bloody nightmare. I would hate to have Malfoy as a soulmate."

Charlie's cheeks flood with heat. He knows that Ron has a different history with Draco, that it can't be easy for him to accept that maybe Draco is different now. Still, he can't help feeling irritated. "Shut up. Draco saved you," Charlie says, his voice harsher than he intends it to be. Ron flinches, and Charlie softens. "Sorry. I know the two of you hated each other, but he's my soulmate. That should be enough."

Ron sighs, lips twisting into a scowl. "Fine. I know it can't be helped, but… Malfoy? Really?"

"He saved you."

"Knock, knock." Hermione enters the room, smiling. "I wanted to wait. I know you and Charlie would want time to talk."

Charlie climbs to his feet, gesturing for Hermione to take his place. She pauses to hug him before making her way to Ron's side and throwing her arms around him. Charlie lingers for a moment longer, grinning as his brother's cheeks glow a soft pink.

"I missed you, Hermione," Ron says. "Merlin, I was scared I wouldn't see you again."

Charlie wonders if he and Draco will grow into this. It seems likely. He's never known soulmates who didn't end up affectionate with one another. He smiles, turning and walking away. At least he has something to look forward to.

…

Ron gets a clean bill of health after two days of supervision. When they leave the med bay, he's all smiles. "Good to be out," he says, grinning as he nudges Charlie with his bony elbow. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep me another day! Bloody hell, can you imagine?"

"Not at all. You would think she would have wanted to get rid of you as quickly as possible."

Ron rolls his eyes. "A right comedian, aren't you?"

"Oi! Weasley!"

They both stop and turn. Charlie's heart skips a beat when he sees Draco standing there, grinning at him. The blond makes his way over quickly.

"Great news! I'm not a Death Eater agent who's trying to penetrate your defenses," he announces with a smirk that screams well, duh. He glances at Ron and nods curtly. "Glad you made it through."

Ron awkwardly shifts his weight from foot to foot. The blush in his cheeks spreads until the tips of his ears redden. He clears his throat and shrugs. "Right. Well…" He shrugs again, clearly uncomfortable by everything. "Thanks for saving me."

"Just don't make a habit out of becoming a damsel in distress," Draco says.

Ron looks between the two of them. "I reckon I'll let you two have a moment. Soulmates and all that. My brother and a bloody Malfoy… Merlin's beard, what is the world coming to?" And with that, he's gone.

Draco stares at Ron's retreating figure before shaking his head. "I'm guessing he doesn't approve of me."

Charlie shrugs. "It isn't up to him," he says. "Soulmates aren't chosen."

They stand there in silence for several minutes. Charlie doesn't know what to say or do. Now that he's free, the reality of it is really hitting. This is his soulmate, and it's so unfair. They're stuck here; they can't go out and do things that normal soulmates do.

Somehow, it doesn't bother him the way it probably should. Just being around Draco is enough to make Charlie feel at peace.

"Where's Theodore?" Charlie asks. "Was he cleared too?"

Draco nods his agreement. "As soon as he was released, he went to find Daphne. They're best friends, so they'll be inseparable now."

"I hope you don't get lonely."

A soft pink stains his cheeks, and Draco pushes a hand through his blond hair. "I think I'll be fine," he says. "I mean… I'm sure you'll keep me company."

"I just might."

They begin walking again. Charlie doesn't know where they're going now, but he doesn't mind. Just walking with him is enough.

"I imagine the Dark Lord won't be happy when he realizes what's happened," Charlie says.

Draco presses his lips together in a hard line. Charlie wonders what's going on inside his head, but he doesn't press. This must be a delicate subject, and he doesn't want to pry.

"I'm sure my father will be punished," Draco says at last. "I only hope my mother is spared."

Charlie lifts his arm but hesitates, awkward and unsure of how to proceed. Draco looks over, seems to understand, and nods. With that, Charlie wraps an arm around him.

"I never wanted this," Draco says. "Any of it… I thought I wanted to be like my father, but that was a mistake. I thought I would be happy to see the Dark Lord victorious, but it's been miserable."

"Maybe you've always been a good guy," Charlie suggests. "I mean, obviously it's just been deep down this whole time, but it's always been there."

Draco chuckles. "If you knew me, I don't think you would still say that." His expression grows serious. "I'm not a saint, Charlie. I've done bad things, unforgivable things."

Charlie's guessed as much. It isn't easy to find a Death Eater without blood on their hands. Knowing this, he still wants to get to know Draco, even if it means he won't like every aspect of who he is.

"We're only human," he says. "We make mistakes. The important thing is that we learn from them and continue to grow."

"Wise words. Never pegged you for the brainy type."

And with that, the two carry on, laughing and falling and dreaming of a better future together.