Ok, so this is my (late- and rubbish) secret santa fic for Nicole (symphonies of you) from the ss II on the rosescorpius fans forum. Merry Christmas, Nicole; I love you, and I hope you enjoy.

I'm not sure exactly how accurate this is, as I've not read the books in forever, but I sincerely hope I haven't destroyed this pairing!

CharlotteHenry
You Love Me?

She first meets the boy with the red hair when she's four years old and he's five and a half—something he takes great pride in telling her—and immediately, she wants to spend more time with him. He's different to the other Shadowhunter children running around the Institute; it could be because they're closest in age, this being both of their first Shadowhunter Christmas parties (Henry missed out last year because he had the flu, and the minimum age is four years old) or it could be because of something else, she's not sure yet. All Charlotte knows is that her cheeks feel hotter than normal as she smiles at Henry, and she gets the feeling that she should run away and hide in a corner so that he doesn't have to see her.

"I'm Charlotte," she says shyly, tightening her grip on her pencil, which is wide enough to be considered a sort-of 'training stele', rather than shake the boy's hand.

"I'm Henry," he replies, though he's already told her that at the same time as telling her his age. A grin spreads on his face, revealing a gap in his front teeth as well as some food stuck in one of his upper canines.

"You know that you have some food in your teeth, don't you?" Charlotte can't help but ask, motioning to the equivalent tooth in her own mouth because she doesn't want to touch a boy she's only just met. "No, the other side…your right," she continues, unable to stop herself giggling slightly as Henry attempts to imitate her advice.

"Are you laughing at me?" Henry's brow furrows in confusion, and Charlotte doesn't know why she feels as she does; a strange feeling of regret—that's what she thinks it is anyway, from listening into her parents' conversations about different things—and also amusement spreading through her.

"Yes, I am," she replies, now merely smiling at Henry. She's always spoken her mind since she learnt to talk, and she knows even at four years old that she wants to be honest throughout the future—unless it hurts the other person irreparably. "It won't hurt you, Henry; the other children will have been meaner than that if you had gone into the hall with food in your teeth. Now, I want cake, and I'm sure you do too, so would you like to come with me to get some?" Charlotte changes the subject deftly—far too well for someone of her age—and Henry merely blinks, taking a while to catch up on the change of conversation.

"Cake?" he repeats and Charlotte nods. "Yes, I want cake, let's go have cake."

As they walk together towards the main ballroom where all the food is, a brief thought passes through her mind; this is their first date. She's four years old and she's already found her red haired prince.

(Not that she really thinks that it's serious, though; she remembers swooning over Patrick Penhallow three weeks ago, and now she thinks she hates him because he insulted her hair colour.)

~x~

For the next five years, the only contact Henry and Charlotte have is at these Enclave Christmas parties; they're too young to be included in the smaller gatherings of the members, so even though Charlotte is present in the Institute, Henry isn't, and he lives too far away for her to visit him. Sometimes, during the year which elapses between their meetings, Charlotte finds herself wanting to see Henry—and he has the same feelings with regards to her—but nothing ever comes of it; she doesn't want to see him so desperately that she would make demands for it. As they get older, and they start their education, they start to send one another birthday cards, and Charlotte sends Henry one when she hears that he's successfully passed his first Shadowhunter-in-training test, aged ten, but other than that, their only meeting comes at Christmas time.

"Did you do anything fun this year?" Henry asks Charlotte as soon as he arrives at the Institute; she's been dispatched to greet the guests by her mother, and whilst she would normally complain, this time she doesn't because she gets to see Henry a little more than normal.

Charlotte screws up her face as she tries to remember back to what happened almost exactly a year ago, before a blush rises; she remembers one thing very well, one thing that she can never tell Henry. (She still has a crush on him from back when she was four years old, something which hasn't faded, even though she was certain that it was only going to be a temporary thing.)

"Well…I did go horse-riding and end up falling into the street and almost get trampled on by a mundane carriage, but I wouldn't call that fun," Charlotte replies, walking alongside Henry as they mount the steps to the building. The Branwells are the last family to arrive, so finally, Charlotte can go inside and warm up. The slabs of stone are covered in ice and snow, but Charlotte manoeuvres herself up them without issue; it's Henry who almost falls. "Did you do anything clumsy this year?"

The last time they met, Henry ended up knocking out Charlotte's father when he ran into him, and fell into the Christmas cake, knocking it down to the floor. Charlotte's hoping that he doesn't do anything like this again…or he could be banned from future parties.

"I can't remember anything out of the ordinary," Henry replies, laughing slightly as he opens the door for Charlotte to pass through. His parents are behind him, but he doesn't pay any attention to them, as he already knows where to go; the ballroom's location can't, after all, change, and even if he does get lost, Charlotte knows exactly where to go. "Maybe the clumsiest was when I tried to throw a dagger at the target board on the wall but ended up hitting Mother's favourite vase…but other than that, I think I've been perfectly acceptably behaved!"

There's laughter from behind them, and a murmured comment that makes Charlotte certain that Henry's parents are listening to their conversation. She isn't sure why, but a blush rises on her cheeks again, one that makes her glad for the cover of darkness within the Institute. She doesn't connect the blush with Henry's parents, or the fact that they were listening to their conversation; she just presumes it's because she's with the person she could see herself marrying in the future—the person who, she thinks, doesn't care about her beyond being a friend-at-the-Christmas-party.

(In this thought, she couldn't be more wrong; Henry's parents were laughing because they finally get the chance to see Henry with the girl he talks about incessantly throughout the year, the reason why they're considering changing their home from just outside London to merely two miles from the Institute.

He loves her just as much as she loves him—he just thinks that she doesn't care about him, much as she considers him to feel the same way.)

~x~

It's September and Charlotte's sitting in the Institute's great library, muttering to herself about the amount of work her governess has set her; something to do with 'her lax attitude to work during the summer months' has led to her being behind the stage her progress indicates she should be—so she has lots more work to do than normal.

Charlotte thinks it's because she's an only child that she has so much work to do; there's nothing to distract her teacher's attention from her, besides when a demon attack occurs, and as there are currently no other children in the nearby vicinity, Charlotte is the only one being tutored in the Institute. Part of her wishes that there was another—though it would spark her competitive side, and she would willingly do all this work just to be the best—because at least then it wouldn't be as lonely.

"I hate this!" she grumbles under her breath as she looks through books to try and decipher a centuries old text about Shadowhunters, written by aids to one of the mundane kings. "Why do I need to learn about what happened hundreds of years ago; there's no point in this!" she's being stubborn. Normally she loves history, but today, with how much she has to do, she despises it.

"You're not going to get anywhere with that attitude." A familiar—it's become familiar, even though she's only heard it once per year for the past ten years—voice says, and Charlotte looks up instantly.

"Henry!" she cries out, suddenly elated at seeing her friend. She's closest to him of all the Shadowhunter children, even though she sees some of the others much more regularly. "What are you doing here?"

He lopes further into the room, his hair as messy as Charlotte remembers it, and she has to hold herself back from moving to hug him. That's something reserved for family members or significant others—and at the age of fourteen, she hasn't been betrothed to anyone yet…or been asked to marry.

(When the time comes, and she has to marry a fellow Shadowhunter, Charlotte hopes it's Henry, because she's in love with him…and even if he doesn't love her back, he'll be kind to her.

And she can love him enough for the both of them.)

"My parents finally decided to move into my mother's aunt's house; it was abandoned about five years ago, but they've renovated it—and now we're here!" Henry replies, his voice filled with enthusiasm as he bounds towards Charlotte. Aged fifteen, he's lost none of the boundless energy he had as a five year old. "As it's just down the road and the resources are, to say the least, good here, I'm being tutored here, too…just for another year or two, so you'll have your governess back to yourself when I'm seventeen."

Charlotte frowns slightly; she doesn't understand why he thinks that she won't want to be educated with him. They're friends—in a way—after all…so it makes no sense. But Charlotte decides not to question it because asking the question could lead to him giving the wrong answer, and then their friendship (and her dreams) could be shattered.

So she simply smiles and tells him that he's welcome to join her until he finishes his training, and merely thinks, rather than says, how glad she is that he's here with her.

(He thinks that she doesn't want him here, and that she's just going through the motions of welcoming him…so that's why he doesn't go overboard with his greeting—he just hopes that she'll put up with him for another few years.)

~x~

"You need to watch your elbow when you throw the blade," Charlotte tells Henry as they practise together in the weapons room. They're testing their aim with moving targets and taking it in turns to assess the other's attempts, and Henry still doesn't seem to grasp what Charlotte means.

"I don't…" he frowns—this is the fourth time that she's attempted to explain it to him, and yet he still doesn't understand—and Charlotte sighs in exasperation. "Look, Lot—Charlotte, it's fine, I'll get Matthew to help me with it later. You should probably go practise your own throwing for the assessment tomorrow; I don't want you to be held back because of me." Henry sighs, and it's the most infuriating thing that Charlotte's ever heard; of course she wants to help (she loves him, and never wants to see him fail) but he just doesn't seem to understand what she means—and now he's giving up.

She knows that he isn't the best fighter that the Enclave has—that much is obvious from the looks of irritation people like Benedict Lightwood throw him when he passes through the Institute to share 'important, classified information' with Charlotte's father—and that he'd much rather be tinkering with different pieces of equipment that they use, but that isn't what is going to keep him alive. All Charlotte wants is for him to be a good enough fighter to pass the tests, to be able to join her out in the field against the demons and keeping the Accords; he can adjust their weapons, and create the blueprints she's seen him making in some of his free time in the library (he always seems to spend his entire days here; she can't remember the last time she went a day without seeing him), after that…she just needs him to make it to that stage.

"No, Henry," Charlotte replies, her voice firm. "We'll get that arm sorted, and then you can be my moving target; you're not getting out of it that easily."

The look he throws her is what she presumes to be exasperation—she thinks she can tell he doesn't care enough to spend so long with her—but is actually a worry that the only reason she's helping him is because she feels sorry for him. That isn't something he wants, not from the beautiful, strong, brilliant woman he loves.

(That would hurt too much.)

~x~

By the time she's eighteen and he's nineteen, they've both decided that their love for the other is eternal; they never want anyone else, though many other candidates for marriage have been considered for them by their parents, and that will be the same for the rest of their lives. Charlotte wants Henry; Henry wants Charlotte…they just don't know that the other wants them as equally as they want them.

It's not something either of them feel comfortable discussing; Henry's never been the most eloquent of people, preferring to make something and use his hands than to directly discuss something, and Charlotte's practical mind makes her consider the likelihood of him not wanting her back—she's of the opinion that there's a high percentage chance that this is the case—and therefore considers it too dangerous to discuss anything of the sort with Henry. This means that they're both in a state of limbo, neither of them wanting to do anything to express their love for the other—until Henry decides that he can't take it any longer.

He wants to marry Charlotte—and he won't take no for an answer.

As he hurries to Granville Fairchild's office on the other side of the Institute to where he usually haunts, Henry's stricken with fear that the man will laugh at him and say that he, Henry Branwell, isn't good enough for his daughter. That's his biggest (only) worry; he knows that if Granville says that Charlotte must marry him, she will…it's just ensuring that this occurs.

"Enter," Granville calls as Henry knocks at the door. This is his chance.

"Good morning, sir," Henry begins, deciding to take formalities to their peak since he met Granville. "I'm here to discuss with you a serious issue which I hope you will be able to help me with," he continues, just about avoiding twisting his tongue as he speaks.

He's met with a stern, yet amused look from Granville, who motions for him to take a seat, something Henry uses to take a deep breath. "Go ahead, Henry, tell me what's on your mind."

Any eloquence from his first sentence or two is gone as Henry begins to explain why he's here, "I, uh, well, as I'm not sure you're aware, I've been in…well, what I mean to say is that I…I'm old…no, I didn't mean to say that…" he trails off as Granville barks a laugh—though of amusement or irritation, Henry can't tell.

"Henry, please get it out, I don't have all day," Granville replies, pressing his fingers together.

It's come to merely blurting it out, without any premise to what he's requesting: "I want to marry your daughter."

Granville's eyebrows lift slightly and Henry can't tell if this is a good or bad sign for his request.

"It isn't just a random request; I've wanted to do this for a while—but she can't know how I feel about her!" Henry continues, somehow becoming slightly more fluent in his urgency. "She doesn't feel the same way about me, I know it, but…but I can hope that she'll fall in love with me, can't I?" he continues.

"Henry, I—" Granville begins to interrupt, but Henry hasn't finished yet; he doesn't want to hear a rejection without having gotten out every reason why he should marry Charlotte.

"I can give her a good home, protect her, and I'll never, ever hurt her—you have my word," he continues. "I will do everything to the best of my ability to make sure that she is happy for the rest of her life, that she faces no danger that could be avoided. Granville, I swear to you, if you give me your daughter's hand in marriage, there is just one thing that I ask for."

Granville remains silent, waiting to hear what it is.

Taking his silence as permission to go on, Henry finishes his speech, tears beginning to form in his eyes, though he blinks them back; there is no need for a Shadowhunter to cry.

"Don't tell her how I feel," Henry tells him, his voice barely audible. "I don't want her to know just how far I would go for her—not yet, anyway. I don't want her to feel pressured into this more than she already is being…please. That's if you'll let me marry her, of course."

Something moves in the old man's face and he stands up to walk around the desk to Henry, leaning over to press a hand to Henry's shoulder. "You have my permission to marry my daughter—I will tell her myself, if that is quite alright with you," Granville says quietly. "There are things about her that you need not know yet, if this is your request; you will discover them later in a long and happy life with Charlotte, if that is what the Angel wants."

Henry's confused slightly but it passes; he's going to marry the girl he loves…though she won't want it.

(Granville's the only person at this stage who knows that they're both in love with the other—they just can't see it yet. And so he will use this to his advantage in ensuring that the Institute remains in Fairchild hands, because under everything, that's his ulterior motive.)

Henry feels like jumping for joy when he leaves Granville's study but he doesn't; instead, he merely heads down towards the library, in which Charlotte sits, and he tells her that she's to go to the study.

He doesn't wait around in the Institute to find out her reaction to the news that they'll be marrying.

~x~

She's more excited than she dares to show at the news that she's marrying Henry, with all his clumsy, strange, funny ways, because she doesn't want to make him scared. All she can hope for is that, over time, he'll grow to love her as much as she loves him—after all, it isn't as though he's gotten anything out of marrying her, is it?

For some reason, this comes up as she discusses with Molly Penhallow about her forthcoming wedding, who replies smugly, "oh really? I heard that the only reason he's marrying you is because your father is wiping clear the debts that his father owes."

Every fantasy Charlotte's had in the week since she became engaged about Henry falling in love with her (or already being in love with her) fades away into nothingness as Molly speaks; he can't be marrying her for this reason, can he?

(He can, and Charlotte fears that he is; he likes her as a friend, can put up with her, and that's the reason he wants to marry her. He wants to make sure that his family's debts are cleared, and that he can have access to the Institute and the little room downstairs that he's taken a shine to.)

(That's all.)

"Excuse me," Charlotte murmurs to Molly, moving with barely-there poise, just about resisting showing how Molly's words have affected her.

She saves that for the pillow in her bedroom, which is soon soaked with her tears.

~x~

Their wedding day is a small, quiet affair, both of them wanting it to last forever and mere seconds concurrently; it's torture for them to stand there with the other, whom they think doesn't love them back, but this is the happiest moment of their lives, so it's a catch-22 situation.

They draw the wedding rune upon the other, looking into the other's eyes, and they both think that they can see love for themselves in the other's eyes, but Charlotte blinks and it's gone from her eyes; Henry blinks and it's gone from his eyes.

It was just a trick of the light, they both think as they turn to face the few people gathered before them in the stained-glass window room of the Institute; otherwise their heartache would be unnecessary, wouldn't it?

(That's how Charlotte feels that night, when she thinks she hears Henry whisper her name in his sleep.)

(That's how Henry feels the night after, when Charlotte whispers, I love you, in her sleep—and he's worried that it's meant for someone else's ears.)

~x~

Years pass, and with them is change: Charlotte and Henry are named the Institute's guardians following her father's demise; the Enclave becomes populated with more and more people who share Benedict Lightwood's opinion that she isn't fit to run the Institute (as everyone knows that Henry doesn't partake whatsoever) which makes it harder and harder to fight; she basically becomes guardians of three stroppy teenagers, all of whom are far more difficult than she thinks she ever could have been—and yet there's continuity, too.

She still feels that Henry doesn't love her; he's affectionate as he kisses her, and he acts as though he's fond of her, but beyond that, he's not there. The main reason he married her, Charlotte feels, is the unlimited access to the basement and to the weapons here—he's developed so many new things that she's struggling to remember how Shadowhunting worked before—not because he could ever love her.

He has no plans to love her, Charlotte's certain of that, and she supposes that she'll have to accept that. She's just as in love with him as she was when she married him, even though his scatterbrained nature seems to have gotten worse with age, and she supposes that her love will have to be for the both of them.

On the other hand, down in his hot den, the one place where he feels as though he's skilled enough to be equal to Charlotte, Henry thinks about every missed chance he's had to tell her that he loves her; he thinks that if she's even aware of how he feels then she'll maybe find it in her heart to give him some love back. It's not how he'd want it to happen…but it'd be better than being nothing more than a man with whom to be with in order to retain control of the Institute.

(That's the reason he thinks that she married him; so that she could have an easily pliable man to officially head the building whilst she had all the power.)

(Neither of them could be more wrong about the other.)

~x~

When Jem, Tessa and Will go to visit the York Institute, Henry asks Bridget to cook Charlotte her favourite meal; it's their anniversary, and it's his excuse to make a fuss of Charlotte for one evening. She doesn't like it—she thinks he's only doing it to make himself feel as though he's being a proper husband—but she accepts it, because on these evenings, she always thinks that she can see a glimmer of true love behind his eyes.

He likes these evenings because, with the glow of the candelabra candles, he can imagine that the sparkle in her eyes is deep love for him…and when they retire for the night, it's always a little more special than when they normally feel required to act like a married couple.

(They never do individually; they just think they have to act indifferent throughout just to avoid making the other uncomfortable.)

"Thank you," Charlotte says as she sits down in the chair Henry pulls out for her, and accepts the glass of wine he pours her.

"How was your day?" he asks. "No, I already know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear more about the search…so…where do you want to take a holiday to, whenever we get out of this bother with Mortmain?"

Charlotte's so surprised that it takes her a moment or two to answer. "I…perhaps Cornwall?" she replies, unsure of why he's asking.

(For the briefest moment, Charlotte believes that he's falling in love with her…and then it's gone, the flash of optimism lost within the realms of what she thinks is reality.)

(She dares whisper, I love you, when they're together that night.)

~x~

He thinks she's dead.

He watches her fall to the floor, unmoving after being attacked by one of the automations, and a scream of pure agony rips out from his mouth; he can't lose his Lottie, he can't. Henry doesn't know what he'd do without her, doesn't know whether or not he could cope with her dying without knowing he loves her more than he has ever loved anyone in the entire world—so he risks his life for her.

His life isn't worth living without her, after all.

(Later, after everything in the factory is resolved, she tells him that he was stupid for doing it and that he should have been more careful…but she's pleased as well—maybe he cares for her more than she thought.)

~x~

It turns out, in the end, that they've both been stupid and obtuse since they were children; from the first time they met, really, they've been in love with the other—just too scared to admit it, for fear that their feelings weren't reciprocated.

His relief, his questioning of her love for him as he says, "You love me too, Lottie?" hurts her, because she's loved him all along—she was just too scared to admit it.

(Just like she's been too scared to admit something else.)

His reaction to why Charlotte thought she had married him wasn't just out of anger that she could think so little of herself to consider that the only way they would marry; it was out of humiliation, too, that she could think him possible of marrying her for such a reason.

When they kiss and he makes her forget about anything and everything that's wrong with the world, Charlotte feels as though this is their first kiss; all the agony and angst of the past twenty years of her life, just waiting for Henry to show he loves her back, is over.

And she couldn't be more happy—neither could he, particularly when he finds out, not long after, that they're expecting a baby.

~x~

"Lottie?" he whispers as they lie in bed together that evening, she wrapped securely in his arms (she's always wanted this, in all their years of marriage, and only now does she feel secure enough in his affections to have it.)

"Yes?" she murmurs back, twisting slightly so that she can see his face.

"If you're absolutely adamant that Buford isn't a contender, can we at least consider Beaumont? I think it's got a very nice ring—"

"Go to sleep, Henry," Charlotte replies, slightly exasperated. "We can discuss it in the morning—but there is absolutely no possibility of this baby being called something that I dislike in the slightest."

Henry moves his head and smiles into her shoulder; she can feel the movement of his muscles. "Right you are, my Lottie…goodnight—I love you."

When Charlotte whispers the words back, she doesn't feel anything other than happiness. For tonight, they have their happy family—and no matter what tomorrow brings, they will still have tonight.

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