Charlie laughed -- properly -- and dropped his gaze. “Thanks,†he muttered, his eyes coming back up in time to see hers roaming freely over his torso. His brow furrowed softly, confused for a moment— more confused when she told him to take her drink. “Okay,†he mumbled uncertainly as he took it from her, holding it out a little to the side, his almost empty beer occupying his other hand and rendering him defenceless.
She was closer now and he unconsciously held his breath, his dark eyes drifting from her face -- so close, concentrating so hard -- to her slender, piano-player-esque fingers -- had he noticed that before? -- fumbling with the fabric of his shirt. He swallowed. She was obviously Alannah, Charlie realised, when he saw that it was a Griffins pin (should he read into the fact Honey had had this in her pocket, rather than affixed to her own jumper? Probably shouldn’t). He flicked his gaze back to Honey’s face, watching her.
She stepped back and he looked down at it again, then back to her. He didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by saying anything about not being into quidditch or about not wanting to make things too official with Alannah, so he settled on “Thanks,†and clearing his throat. She gestured to take her cider back and he passed it to her, their fingers touching for a little longer than might be considered not-friendly.
They continued down the stairs -- thank Christ -- Charlie a polite step behind. He grinned at her suggestion, not that she could see it. “Can use Ferg as a buffer if it makes you feel better,†he offered, not entirely against the idea of making her brother -- his friend -- wildly uncomfortable as the designated cockblock.
Just when he thought they were about to depart each other’s company in a good, almost friendly place Honey lunged at him, shoving him back against one of the great columns that held the stadium up. Eyes wide, he stared at her, until— Fergie. “Oh,†he said simply, swallowing and trying not to sound disappointed. He turned his head in the direction she was peeking, then back to her and her hand on his chest. Please don’t tell him. Charlie blinked, nodded. “Sure,†he murmured, but she was already walking away.
He waited, back against the hard wood behind him, long enough for Honey to hopefully lead her brother away, and for Charlie’s presence to remain a secret -- using this moment alone to work out what the fuck had just happened. He finished his drink, then walked in the opposite direction towards the nearest concession stand to get another beer (or two).
END
