By Definition

Beta work by Evil Auntie Snape.

Takes place during GOF, on the night before the First Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Part of the inspiration for this fic comes from a sketch of Charlie by Caladan_dd. Whew! Check out her LJ; she's a fantastic artist, and captures the HP characters as no other!

This series continues in THINGS MEANT TO BE SAID...

~~~~BY DEFINITION~~~~

Monday, 23 November, 1994

"Circe's Mother..."

Charlie winced as he ducked between the flaps of his tent, the rough canvas barely grazing against the surface of his definitely raw skin.

The Horntail was more than a handful under the best of circumstances, let alone having been summarily shoved into a crate and Apparated to Scotland on a moment's notice. She was in a foul mood, and he pitied the poor sot that drew her for the Challenge.

He only hoped that Harry was lucky enough to face the Fireball or the Shortsnout...

He'd just begun to slowly peel away his singed dragonhide jerkin when an all too cheerful voice caused him to cringe. He whirled about, completely unsurprised to see his partner's blond head poking through his tent flaps.

"Oy! No time for that, mate," Robinson crowed enthusiastically. "Boykin has a fresh bottle of Oban, and I'm feeling lucky!" He waggled his eyebrows, his head seemingly suspended in thin air between the tent flaps.

Charlie grinned sheepishly in response, shaking his head slowly.

"Sorry, mate, but I'm totally, completely knackered." He held out his muscular arms, turning them slightly so as to display the angry, red burn marks. "She got me pretty good. In a right foul mood, the bitch."

Robinson rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Lot a rot, all this cloak and dagger stuff. Who ever heard of a Tri-Wizard Tournament with four champions? Old Crouch is off his nut. Can't just shove dragons about like so much dirty laundry. And pulling the Horntail, to boot. Daft idea, that was."

Charlie nodded, shrugging out of his jerkin and sitting down heavily on the nearest stool.

"Well, nothing for it. Orders and all." He picked up a small jar from his cot. "It's what we do, right?" He flashed Robinson a cheeky grin.

The blond pushed his shoulders through the tent's opening, his expression suddenly grim. "Wow. She did mark you right good," he observed, frowning at Charlie's seared skin.

Charlie waved him away. "I've had worse. Be right as rain come morning." He twirled the cap from the small jar, digging his wide fingers into the cream and slathering it on his forearm. "Go on," he huffed. "Show Goodwin how it's done, yeah?"

Robinson nodded, sighing. "Alright then. If you're sure." He threw a knowing glance in Charlie's direction. "I'll be happy to hang about it if you, well, if you want."

Charlie shook his head. "Thanks, mate, but I'm fine." He smiled widely, shooing his friend away. "Off with ya. Show those Hufflepuffs what's what."

Robinson nodded. "Right." He sighed, bowing his head. "Cheers, then. See you."

Charlie nodded as the blond left. He finished coating his arms in the soothing salve, finally reaching down and yanking his filthy tank top over his head. He drew in a harsh breath as he gingerly poked and prodded the tender flesh of his chest and abdomen. He tapped the tip of his wand against the rim of the small glass jar, smiling crookedly as it re-filled itself. He stood up, unbuttoning his thick leather breeches and shoving them down. With a pair of swift kicks, he sent the trousers to the other side of the tent. He gingerly lifted the leg of his boxers, wincing at the reddened skin of his thighs.

Even through his thick leathers, the Horntail had scorched him rather nicely.

"Bloody bitch," he muttered, bending down and rubbing the salve into the skin of his ankles and calves. The dragons had finally quieted down nicely, the somewhat comforting sounds of the Forbidden Forest finally making themselves clear. Charlie rolled his eyes as he heard the unmistakable ruffling of his tent flaps again.

"Fer Merlin's sake, Adolph, I don't feel like playin' cards!" He raised his head, his expression softening instantly. "Ronnie! What in blue blazes are you doin' here?"

Ron huddled just inside the old tent, his ginger head bowed, his long fringe hanging over his eyes, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. He refused to meet gazes with Charlie, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Just needed to go for a walk, that's all." Ron stared at his boots a moment before sighing deeply. "If you're busy, I'll just go." With a swift shrug, he turned to leave.

"Not so fast there, kiddo," Charlie replied firmly, setting his wand and jar of salve on the small table next to his cot. Moving quickly across the tent, he clamped his hand on Ron's shoulder, smoothly turning him about. With a small chuckle, he gently lifted his brother's chin. "Out for a stroll, in the Forbidden Forest, in the middle of the night. Right." He brushed the hair away from Ron's face, frowning slightly. His brother's eyes were red and puffy. "Okay, Ronnie. Out with it."

Ron stared back for a brief moment before flinging himself at Charlie. He was now just a tad taller than Charlie, although not nearly as broad about the shoulders and chest. He bent down, wrapping his arms tightly about Charlie's torso, burying his head against Charlie's wide, furry chest.

Charlie held him close, nuzzling the side of Ron's head while making small circles across Ron's back. "Yeah, yeah, let it all loose, little bro," he murmured softly. "I've got ya. Let it all out." Carefully, Charlie maneuvered them both backwards toward his cot. Ron clung to him for dear life, sniffling softly as Charlie sat them down heavily. Ron hugged him still tighter, making Charlie draw in a sharp breath or two as his aching skin protested.

They sat there for quite a long while, Charlie absently rocking them back and forth and stroking the side of Ron's head gently. Outside, cool breezes rustled the tightly knit canopy of leaves; the tent canvas rippled and flapped languidly, making muffled fluttering sounds. The occasional low growl or snort of the nearby dragons punctuated the silences, along with an isolated groan or whoop from the card game in the next tent. Charlie kissed the top of Ron's head, tenderly lifting his little brother's head up.

Ron opened his eyes, roughly running the back of his hand across his nose. He attempted a smile, but it ended up as some sort of lopsided frown. Brushing his long fringe away from his face, he sat up and straightened his jumper, the flickering light from the oil lamp casting oddly shaped shadows on the tent canvas. He stared at Charlie for a moment before lowering his gaze and studying his boots again.

Charlie sighed, reaching out to ruffle Ron's hair. "So what's on your mind, love? I know you're not here for the scenery." He chuckled, at once pleased to see a thin smile form on Ron's lips.

"Well, you know how I just love dragons," Ron replied with a nervous laugh. He looked up then, his blue eyes welling with tears. "I'm scared, Charlie. I keep thinking about tomorrow, and what might happen..." He drew in a sharp breath, rolling his eyes and slamming a fist down onto the cot. "Bloody fool, I am."

"No, you're not," Charlie responded rather gruffly. "Those creatures are dangerous, and you'd be foolish not to be concerned. I'm sure Harry will manage just fine, though." He paused a moment before leaning toward Ron and nudging him playfully. "And Viktor, too."

Ron grimaced, shaking his head slightly.

"But what if something happens? It can, you know. Things go wrong," Ron squeaked loudly, at once embarrassed as his voice broke. "If anything happens, I...I don't know if I could bear it...I've been a right foul git to him lately, and if...if. Shite!" He rubbed his eyes savagely.

"So you haven't talked with Harry, then?"

"No," Ron snorted. "Not like I've had a chance. He's so sodding wrapped up with his interviews and Dumbledore and the Tournament. I've tried..."

Charlie nodded. "Really?"

Ron stared a moment before shaking his head. "I've wanted to, Charlie, really, but it's so bleedin' hard, there's so much I want to say, and I'll know I'll muck it up, I always do, and suppose he doesn't want to hear it? What of that? What if he tells me to sod off and never speaks to me again?" He pounded on the mattress once more, his cheeks flushing pink. "I'm such an idiot. Mum's right. I'll never amount to anything at this rate..."

Charlie reached out and clamped a big hand on Ron's shoulder, squeezing it sharply. "Hey! That's enough of that nonsense, kiddo! You're not an idiot, and you know damn well that's not what Mum said at all."

Ron harrumphed. "Not in so many words, then. But you know how she prattles on about Bill at the bank, bursting at the seams about how proud she is, and of you with the dragons. And even prissy Percy, the git that he is. You can tell that deep down, she's thrilled about him, too. And the twins. They're bloody geniuses, though if you ever tell them I said that..." He shot Charlie a menacing glare. "And even Ginny is smarter than me, plus she's brilliant on a broomstick." He tossed his head. "And then there's me. A whole lot of nuthin' going on." Ron finished his tirade, pausing a moment before looking at Charlie, who merely stared back in response, an odd smirk on his face.

"What?" Ron asked warily, pulling away slightly.

"Finished?" Charlie asked tersely.

Ron nodded, folding his arms. "Yeah."

"Good," Charlie replied happily. In a flash, he reached out and pinched Ron's upper arm. Hard.

"Owwwww!" Ron yelped, immediately massaging the tender spot. "What was that for, you big, speckled git?"

Charlie cocked his head, smirking. "Don't tell me you've forgotten rule number four?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell. Number four. Right." He stared up at the flickering oil lamp. "Say something stupid..."

"...and get a good pinch," they finished in unison.

"You and your rules," Ron huffed, leaning back against the mound of pillows on the cot. "Ruthless, you were."

"Well, spare the broomstick, spoil the wizard. Bill and I had our hands full back then, ya know."

"Sorry I was such a burden to you," Ron murmured sullenly.

Charlie reached over and pinched the inside of Ron's thigh. "There you go again..."

"Damn it, Charlie! Quit treating me like I'm still a baby. I'm not, as you can see..."

Charlie nodded slightly. "Yeah, I know, I know. Still, seems like only yesterday you came running to me, bawling your head off because George changed your teddy into a spider."

"Fred."

"What?"

"It was Fred what done it. Changed Fluffy. The prat."

Charlie giggled. "It was all Billy could do to keep a lid on those two. Compared to Fred and George, you were an angel."

Ron made a rude noise. "That's not sayin' much."

Charlie grinned at his youngest brother. "True. But really, you were a good kid. Always cleaned your plate, did your chores without bein' asked. Happy to help out me and Bill with whatever. Sure, you made a fuss every now and then, but for the most part, you were a good boy. Always a joy."

"Even with my nightmares?" Ron asked with a sly smirk.

"Well, I suppose those were mostly my fault. Reading you those creepy Muggle tales from the books Dad brought home." He sniggered. "As I seem to recall, though, it was you that always clamoured for the scary bedtime stories..."

"I liked them," Ron replied defiantly. "Especially the one about the little gremlins or trolls or whatever they were that lived in that kid's bedroom, and no one believed him." He smiled widely. "Remember that one? Mum had a fit when she found out you read it to me..."

Charlie screwed up his face in thought, absently rubbing his stubbled chin. "Yeah, yeah, I remember now. How did it go? 'We are the monsters underneath your bed' or something like that, eh?"

Ron nodded. "Yep. That was it. Blimey. I woke up screaming for a week."

"More like two," Charlie chuckled, reaching over to muss Ron's hair. "And don't forget who stayed in your room all that time, keeping those monsters under your bed."

"Yeah. You were always there when I needed you," Ron answered softly. "Always."

"Short definition of 'brother', Ronnie."

Ron shook his head. "No, not really. Bill was the best, don't get me wrong. And I do love Fred and George." he waved a finger at Charlie menacingly.

Charlie nodded, sniggering. "Right. Make sure I never tell them that...check."

"But you, though." Ron paused a moment. "You were different. From as far back as I can remember, I just knew that you loved me, almost more than anyone else. Sounds daft." He glanced up at Charlie, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Just like now. The way you look at me. I just know."

Charlie blushed slightly. "Well, as hard as I tried not to play favourites, I didn't always succeed when it came to you. Percy was always fine on his own. And the twins, well, you know them. But you, Ronnie. Sometimes so bloody quiet, just sitting back and letting the others have on about things." He smiled at a memory. "And that huge grin you'd get whenever I'd pick you up from your stool in the corner and swing you about, or slip you an extra Chocolate Frog. Always a pleasure, you were, mate."

"And now look," Ron murmured. "You shouldn't have wasted your time...just another sodding pouf to make Mum cry."

"Mum cries when she has to toss an old dish cloth away." Charlie poked the center of Ron's chest. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, but she and Dad love you, and always will, no matter whom you choose to shag. They've known about me for a few years now, right?"

Ron nodded.

"And I haven't been banished or had my name removed from Mum's clock, now have I?"

"No, I suppose she's adjusted to it by now."

"There you go, then." Charlie cleared his throat. "I know it's rough coming to terms with being gay, Ronnie, but you're dealing with it just fine. I can't tell you how much it means to me that I was the first person you came out to."

Ron snorted. "Not like I'd tell the twin terrors."

Charlie chuckled. "Got it. You've got to be comfortable with telling people. But the sooner you get that off of your chest, the better. You'll be amazed at the weight that lifts from your shoulders when you let people know. The ones closest to you. The ones you love most." He eyed Ron carefully. "You know who I mean."

Ron frowned, rubbing his eyes. "Bloody hell, Charlie! I know I need to tell Harry, but right now, it's just not the right time. I've bollixed things up so badly lately, I'm not sure he'll ever even speak to me again, let alone sit down and have a sodding heart to heart."

"Give him a little credit, kiddo. Harry's your closest friend. You've told me as much, and everyone sees it. You two took to each other instantly." He reached over and pulled Ron's hand away from his face. "Just think about what it's like to walk about in his shoes, eh?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Right, right. You're not the first person to tell me that."

"Imagine what it must have been like for him," Charlie began smoothly. "Parents murdered, never knowing them, stuck with those fucking awful Muggles and forced to live in a cupboard. A cupboard under the stairs, Ron! No one to talk to, no one to read to him, or hold him when he was frightened, no one to tell him that he'd be okay. Do you have the slightest idea what that must have been like?"

Ron simply shook his head, his blue eyes very bright.

"Then all that shite about being The Boy Who Lived. Think of that pressure. And now the Tournament. Then just being a teen-aged boy at Hogwarts on top of all that." He looked over to Ron, who was staring at the ridge of the tent. "And in the midst of all this, his best friend has abandoned him, leaving him alone to deal with everything. How do you think he feels right now?"

"Bloody rotten, probably," Ron managed to croak out.

"Harry needs his best mate now more than ever. Life's too short to waste time like this, Ronnie. Find a way to make things right. Soon. And tell him how much he means to you. He needs to know that."

Ron fidgeted for a few moments, his hand slowly sliding across the quilt and brushing against Charlie's freckled bicep.

"Do you really think he'd listen if I wanted to talk? I've been really rotten lately..."

"Yeah, you have. And it won't be easy to start that conversation, but it's what you need to do," Charlie responded softly. "Just do it. Tell him what's in your heart, kiddo."

Ron snorted. "Good one, that. Like Harry'd ever want me. I'm a clumsy, emotional idiot."

Charlie folded his hands across his muscled chest. "Aching for another pinch, R Bilius. Keep it up..."

Ron winced. "Merlin, you know I hate it when you call me that."

"Yeah, I do," Charlie admitted, absently picking at the worn patchwork quilt covering the cot. "But it just kills me to hear you say things like that about yourself. And never be ashamed of your emotions, little bro. They're one of your strongest points. So bloody passionate, about everything. You really, truly don't see how special you are, do ya?"

Ron threw his arm across his eyes. "Awww, c'mon Charlie, I'm nothing special at all. Not like Bill, or Harry...or you..."

Charlie turned on his side, propping his head on one hand while lifting Ron's arm from his face with the other. "Have I ever lied to you?" he queried, his voice low and steady.

Ron blinked. "Erm, well, no. Never."

"And do you think I'd ever mislead you? About anything?"

"No, Charlie, I trust you, you know that," Ron stammered, hoisting himself up on his elbows. "I don't get..."

Charlie put up his hand. "That's just it, kiddo. You don't get how bloody special you are. You're brave, honest, forthright, loyal. And I know you don't like to hear stuff like this, but you're one of the most sensitive and caring souls I've ever known. There's nothing you'd fail to do for someone you love. You're the best Wizard's Chess player I've ever seen, and you're damn good on a broomstick, if you'd ever quit comparing yourself to me or Bill or the twins. I just wish you could see yourself like I do, Ronnie. You're far too hard on yourself."

"Fine. Good. But that's you, Charlie," Ron protested, frowning. "You're my brother. You have to, well...you just..."

"What?" Charlie prodded gently. "That I HAVE to love you because I'm your brother?" He chuckled. "I forgot to mention that you're amazingly stubborn, too."

"Bloody right there," Ron agreed.

Charlie reached over, carefully running his fingers through Ron's long fringe and pushing it away from his eyes. "Well, I do love you, Ronnie. You'll always be my very good boy. Because of who you are, and not just because I'm obligated to feel that way." He paused a moment, taking a deep breath. "But even if I weren't your older brother, I can safely say that I'd feel the same way about you. You're bloody gorgeous, kiddo, and I know I'm not the only one to see it."

Ron stared at Charlie for many long moments, the wavering lamplight dancing across their faces. He reached out, hesitantly clasping his hand to Charlie's.

"Really? You think I'm...I'm..."

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah, and I don't just think, I know. You're growing into quite the heart breaker." He leaned in, planting a soft kiss to Ron's forehead.

Ron let himself lean closer to Charlie. "I don't know about that. I'm nowhere near as handsome as you are." He grazed his fingertips across the surface of Charlie's large, hairy pecs, lingering a moment to tease the dusky pink nipples. Slowly, his hand trailed down the smooth curve of Charlie's stomach, stopping at the elastic of his boxers. Charlie drew in a sharp breath, causing Ron to jerk his head up quickly.

"What? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, not all," Charlie replied swiftly. "The Horntail singed me pretty good, and, well..." He nodded down at his reddened chest and torso, his mass of freckles even more pronounced than usual beneath the whorls of ginger hair.

Ron nodded, finally noting the open jar of salve on the bedside table.

Charlie watched him pick it up and dip his fingers into the cream.

Ron paused only a moment before applying the salve to Charlie's right shoulder and working it in with slow, gentle strokes. Charlie gasped slightly at the coolness of the salve on his heated and sweaty skin. Ron smirked as he applied more salve to Charlie's collarbone and other shoulder, then moving down the deep cleft between Charlie's large chest muscles. He made sure to cover every inch of skin, his fingers tracing the firm, furry topography of his brother's upper body most carefully.

"Wow," he breathed softly. "You feel good. Really, really good." Ron grinned crookedly. "So bloody gorgeous," he whispered as he rubbed more of the soothing cream into the skin of Charlie's stomach and sides. Ron put the jar down, using both hands to work the salve in. He allowed his fingertips to slip under the waistband of Charlie's boxers.

"Want to make sure I get everything," he murmured softly.

"Sure," Charlie breathed, his hips twitching ever so slightly.

Ron grinned, his fingers now ghosting over the surface of his brother's rapidly tenting boxers. "Damn, Charlie."

Charlie sighed and rolled over onto his back. "That's all you, little bro. Merlin forgive me, but here, right now..." He gazed over at Ron, his eyes wide, lustful. "Would you like to stay with me tonight? Here?"

Ron nodded almost instantly. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Will they miss you back at the Tower?"

"Don't think so," Ron responded, never taking his eyes from Charlie's. "Too much going on with the Tournament tomorrow. If I get up early, before dawn, I'll be able to slip in without anyone noticing. If I can make it past Peeves, that is."

They both chuckled then, Charlie tearing his gaze away. "Ronnie, don't stay unless you really want to..."

Ron stood up then, yanking his jumper over his head. "No, I want to, Charlie. I've missed you so much. I hated it when you left Hogwarts and moved out. To sodding Romania, of all places." He toed off his boots, tossing his jumper on top of them. "Um, what about your, uh, friends?"

"Oh, right." Charlie grabbed his wand and murmured an incantation. The canvas flaps of the opening knit together with a snap. Another charm, and the tent fell eerily silent.

"Good idea," Ron chuckled nervously, eyeing his brother from head to toe. He pulled off his tank top, slinging the garment at Charlie, who caught it easily. He noticed Charlie's stare then, glancing down at himself. "What?"

"You," Charlie replied huskily. "C'mere."

Ron grinned, tearing open his jeans and pushing them down. His boxer briefs slid down a bit, exposing his right hip and a fair amount of bright red curls. With a few awkward hops, he tossed the jeans to join his other discarded clothes.

Charlie shifted a bit, arranging the pillows and pulling the quilt out from under him. He flung it back, patting the mattress.

Ron paused, staring down at Charlie, his older brother's erection plainly evident. He reached down and lightly stroked his own aching hard-on.

"Are you sure, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. But if you're not..."

Ron only smiled sheepishly before stepping over and climbing into the cot. He slid on top of Charlie, moaning slightly as their erections brushed together. He leaned down, closing his eyes and carefully pressing his lips to Charlie's. They were soft and warm, and a shudder shot through his body as the tip of Charlie's tongue slid its way into his mouth. He slowly ground his hips into Charlie's, the scents of sweat, grass and the lavender cream nearly making his head spin. Charlie's muscled, hairy body felt marvellous against his own smooth skin. He pulled away and opened his eyes to see Charlie beaming up at him.

"And a good kisser, to boot," Charlie murmured softly.

"Merlin, it feels to good to hold you," Ron whispered, snuggling close and burying his head against Charlie's chest.

"I'm here, love. Never forget that, okay?"

Ron mumbled a response as Charlie brought the quilt over them and wrapped his arms around Ron's shoulders. He muttered an incantation, and the tent was plunged into darkness. They shifted about into comfortable positions, their legs entwined and Ron half on and half off of Charlie.

"Thanks, Charlie."

"For what, kiddo?"

"Everything."

"Anything for my boy," Charlie replied, gently kissing the top of Ron's head.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

"G'night."

"G'night, Ronnie."


~fin~