Gabrielle/Charlie is love

pendragontales @ 2006-11-26T13:43:00

2006-11-26T16:43:27Z

I have a BIG doubt... What's the meaning of "Pendragontales"?
Thanks in advance ^^

C/G dedicated to Alia!

2006-07-13T06:36:42Z

aliaspiral requested angst. So... here is angst. Please don't kill me.

Title: Delayed Promises
Author: Thalia//maniacalmuse
Rating: Somewhere between PG13 and R, I suppose?
Ships: Charlie/Gabrielle, mentions of Bill/Fleur
Warnings: Angst, implied violence, character death (though not of the main ships).
Summary: The Gabrielle Delacour he remembered was another girl from a world that had unraveled like a torn, dewy spiderweb... a world of beauty taken for granted until it was ripped apart.

Charlie Weasley was thirty-three when the New Order had finally been quashed after half a decade of hell.

He had heard the whispers of the prophecy of Harry Potter, and when the Death Eaters had attacked Hogwarts in Harry's seventh year, Lord Voldemort had faced a skinny boy with green eyes and a scar in the middle of the Quidditch pitch surrounded by screaming factions, in a twisted, far-too-wrong mockery of Quidditch captains shaking hands before a match. And it was after the bow that the pitch exploded in light and blood and smoke. He'd not been there that day.

So many names, so many graves, bodies broken like so much ceramic and lacquer spilling and splattering across the grass. And it was in the midst of this that Lord Voldemort, for the third and final time, had cast Avada Kedavra at the boy who held a wand to him.

Everyone around had been too busy fighting for their lives that no one saw Harry fall. Out... not with a bang, but a whimper.

And it was nightfall when those alive, huddled away against the walls of the dungeons like so many sacks of potatoes, counted their number that evening and saw Harry not among them. The truth hit them then, even though it was useless, because in the morning, that number had changed again. The victorious Dark Lord sat in Dumbledore's seat like a Roman Emperor, the group of masked fiends screaming in anticipation in the audience, and Walden Macnair, carrying his ever-faithful axe, stepped into the center of the arena, and the still-sticky grass of the pitch absorbed yet more blood as the Death Eaters executed those survivors that they deemed necessary to kill.

The New Order moved quickly and efficiently after that; pageantry finished. The Ministry was seized, laws radically changed to fit the ideology of the Dark Lord and his agendas. Muggle-hunting was legalized. Being rights taken away. Those werewolves not sworn to the service of the Dark Lord were imprisoned in silver-barred cells until the full moon, and then utilized to execute particularly hated blood traitors. Remus Lupin had disappeared after the first year, along with Tonks. No one knew if they were dead or alive. There was no one to ask.

Charlie received his last letter from his family when he was twenty-seven. He saved it even as he and all of the others in Romania who had ties to the wrong people in Britain went underground and moved to the mountains. It was against his grain to hide like cockroaches... but it had been a direct order from Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been thrust into the position of Head of the Order of the Phoenix after the deaths of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. They needed to regroup and survive. Only then would there be hope of redemption in the future.

There was news of his family, but never from them, and for years they all hid in the shadows, ironic light-on-dark in a world of black, and he heard of Bill and Fleur's escape to France, then to Egypt, where part-veelas were not stripped of their rights and their wands and forced into sex slavery. This, too, had been an order. Fleur had been adamant that she'd not leave her sister, who'd just transferred into Hogwarts for fourth year the year of the attack, behind.

Collateral damage. It was a term that one understood mentally-- intellectually. The sheep bred to feed and distract the dragons during check-ups. And yet, when he'd gotten news of THAT, he'd fallen and vomited right where he'd sat, bile rising in his mouth and choking him. Little Gabrielle Delacour. Gabby. Toothy grins and blonde pigtails and excited jabbering about les dragons in her inquisitive, broken English. A girl who could shatter like a porcelain doll.

It came to everyone's surprise, then, when the Dark Lord was defeated at the height of his reign, quite suddenly, by the boy whom everyone thought was dead. The truth trickled out slowly then, and by the time Charlie finally learnt it, another year had passed in gray. The boy who'd faced Lord Voldemort at that fateful battle was not Harry Potter. There were two boys who were prophesized to spell possible doom for the Dark Lord. And it was when he died, standing up bravely to the ones who'd ruined his life and broken his family, that Neville Longbottom had finally proven himself to all those who truly didn't matter that he was no less a hero than his father.

Harry had been away at the other side of the world, hunting for Horcruxes, when Neville Longbottom had sat alone in a train compartment in the Hogwarts Express. In the adjacent one, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat together, bereft and quiet without Harry's presence, and talked of Horcruxes and Snape's betrayal. When the battle had began, Neville's hands had shaken as he stood alone in the dormitory. It had taken several tries before he had a firm grip on his wand, but the glamour he cast was flawless. And when he'd walked out onto the pitch with Harry's face and Harry's voice, wearing glasses transfigured out of an old shoe, he'd walked proudly, like Harry would have. In his last hour, the furthest thing from his mind was glory. It was somehow easier to be brave when there was no hope.

Breaking the world had been quick, ruthlessly efficient-- but destruction always is. The reconstruction took far longer, and when Charlie had finally reunited with his family again, things were still broken and bloody, raw and jagged. A year had not healed the knee that had been shattered when a Death Eater had hit Percy with a hex-- moments after he'd thrown the Ministry's last escape portkey in his father's face during the first raid. A year had not enabled Fred to start laughing again, a mere shell of his former self without his twin. They carefully avoided looking at the family clock and had delicious, filling stew that tasted like ashes to ashes and dust to dust, and Charlie'd gone back to Romania with too many silences left unfilled with words or warmth.

So he didn't expect the knock on his door that came two days later. The woman who stood outside was... well, she should have been young, from the smooth skin of her neck and the suppleness of her arms, beauty that should have been intoxicating and bewitching, like the scent of poppies and the tang of white wine on the tongue. There was something disturbingly familiar about her, but for several moments, he just stared, unable to place her, unable to explain why she invoked such a feeling of sadness.

"'Allo, Sharlie," she broke the silence, and then his eyes widened as he registered the way she pronounced his name, the accent. There was no toothy grin, no bouncing golden ringlets. The eyes were solemn, almost gray, like cloudy sky. She was lovely, just like he'd always imagined that she would be-- but it was a grace that was tinged with grief, an essence of dead roses and yellowed letters. The Gabrielle Delacour he remembered was another girl from a world that had unraveled like a torn, dewy spiderweb... a world of beauty taken for granted until it was ripped apart.

He uttered her name on an exhale, disbelieving, hurting for her and wondering what she must have suffered during the last five years. And really, it would not have been considered polite to reach out and take her into his arms, hold her against his chest as though he'd never let her go, but the losses had been too heavy already, and she looked so COLD...

But she let him and leaned against him, and from the way her shoulders shook under his hands, he knew that no one had held her out of care since the Dark Lord's ascension. Her hood slipped to reveal silvery hair where gold and gray blended to the colour of frost. Her voice was muffled against his chest, crystalline-fragile, but he heard every word nevertheless.

"I 'ad promised zat I'd come to work wis les dragons, non?"

And she had-- she had, when things were still bright and simpler and she was just a little girl with an easy, infectious laugh. Charlie felt his hands clenching around handfuls of her cloak-- she felt warmer, at least. "Yes, you did indeed," he said hoarsely. "I'm glad you're here." Words really meant so little... so very little in comparison to reality.

She took a step back, and her eyes were locked with his when she smiled-- the first smile that he'd seen, really, in a long time. It looked imperfect and shaky and beautiful-- something come out into the sun after years in the dark. "And I always keep my promises," she said softly. "Even if zis is several years late. I am sorry."

He felt his heart swelling, his lips returning her smile. It was a ray of light and a hint of hope in his world, a sign that someday, though things might never go back to the way it was before, there could still be happiness, dreams fulfilled, promises made and kept.

He reached out and pulled her close again. "Don't be sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I should be thanking you."

A Drabble for the Gabby/Charlie Challenge!

2006-04-29T02:36:24Z

I haven't written fiction in a long time, let alone fanfiction. But the Gabby/Charlie ship has become one of my favorite, so I thought I would take a stab at literarylemming's challenge.

And here is my result (A very short, 280 word drabble), inspired by:

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

(Walt Whitman)

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

Gabby sighed as she closed the book of muggle poetry. She had gotten it for Christmas from Fleur who thought that it might help her relax from the stress caused by NEWTS. This one page was worn so much that she swore she could see her thumbprint on the corner of the page. But she couldn’t help always turning to that one verse. It just reminded her so much of Charlie. He was the only person that could understand her love of dragons, and her yearning to work with them. She had loved him since they first met at Fleur and Bill’s wedding.

She had been only a girl of 12 years when she first saw him. Her sister had laughed when she realized that Gabby had a crush on the dragon tamer. But Gabby knew that it was more than a crush. It was love. She knew that she would marry him someday; he just needed to realize that. She hoped that her graduation in a few months would help him realize that she was no longer a child, but a grown woman.

Until he realized that they were meant to be together she could wait. She would think of him when she was alone, she would see him in her dreams. She knew that they would see each other again; she was part of the Weasley family, ever since Fleur married Bill. Besides, she had applied for an internship in Romania, to study at the same dragon camp that Charlie worked at. He didn’t know it yet, but he was going to be seeing a lot of her. After all, she couldn’t lose him, they were meant to be.

Voila! My first fanfic drabble! I hope you like it!

pokes in

2006-04-27T09:11:07Z

Hello all. Wandered in by way of flower_and_fang. Since I did the challenge on that comm, thought I should give a try to this one as well. Never wrote this ship before... hell, never wrote CHARLIE before. So, feedback would be very welcome!

Title: Incompletely Incognito
Author: Thalia//maniacalmuse
Pairing: The Second OTP of Future Pink-Haired Babies
Rating: PG-ish

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only.

(Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

The disguise was flawless, a necessary precaution for this particular mission. Aside from lingering traces of an accent, she was unrecognizable. Dirt-brown hair and dirt-brown eyes and a fleshy nose that was too big for her face. Not ugly enough to attract attention, not pretty enough to be memorable. The robes were slightly ill-fitting on a form twenty pounds heavier, and with the natural discomfort that came from wearing a different body, her slightly shuffling gait fit in perfectly in this world of rickety storefronts and narrowed eyes.

Charlie had still been recovering from the burns he'd acquired in transporting the nesting female Ridgeback, and he wasn't aware of the specifics of her mission. She had not seen it fit to let him know that she would be roaming the seediest parts of Wizarding London to investigate her suspicions behind the latest rash of Antipodean Opaleye poachings. Charlie might have been easygoing and patient... and handsome and charming and understanding and altogether wonderful... but she'd seen enough examples of Weasley overprotectiveness to instinctively avoid the possibility.

A week and a half of prowling about Knockturn Alley and she'd already found two stores selling contraband. And when she'd professed dismay that Xanthippe's Philters didn't carry more eggshells, the owner actually pointed her to another source.

All right, so perhaps a vestige of veela power carried over, elusive and intangible, regardless of disguise. It had been useful the past week and a half. She was able to pull straight answers out of very crooked men.

And right now, the non-descript brunette in the thick black cloak was smiling an astonishingly gorgeous smile at the shopkeeper of The Snaggleteeth Emporium and manipulating him into giving confessions he wouldn't have yielded under Magical Law Enforcement interrogation. And just as the man turned to measure out half a pound of crushed Antipodean Opaleye eggshell, the tinny little bell on the door gave a faint jingle, and she gave an almost imperceptible start.

~*~

Charlie Weasley walked in, one arm still in a sling, not glancing right or left, and idly picked up a bottle of Fungal Scale Rot Tonic. He approached the counter even as Juvenal Lorch returned with the lady's purchase, wrapped in parchment, and sealed with wax. He glanced at the other customer, a rather plain-faced witch whom he'd never seen before, and then paused.

Plain brown eyes with thick, sooty lashes. A big nose and smooth, perfect skin. Hair in an unbecoming knot at the nape of her neck that shone dully in the dim light. Wrinkled hands with rosy nails and a faint, shiny mark on a knuckle as though from a healing burn. Perfection that tried to hide underneath anonymity. She was a beautiful paradox in any form.

Well, I'll be damned... He couldn't control the upward quirk of his lips or stifle the faint snicker. And when the witch gave him a startled, affronted look, he had to cough several times to stifle the threatening laugh.

It was her look, all right.

She paid for her purchase and swept out of the shop with ostentatious dignity, and Charlie quickly paid for his own merchandise before following her out.

"Fancy running into you here, Gabby."

Of course he kept his voice low, but she had excellent hearing, and she didn't turn, even though she stopped. "I do not know you, Monsieur."

"I think you do, Firesprite," he chuckled, reaching her in several strides. "It does concern me, just a little, what might bring you to this part of town."

"I am 'ere on business," she replied, a slightly angry flush rising in her cheeks as she stared straight ahead, not meeting his eyes. "And zat business 'as nosing to do wis you!"

He walked around her and gazed down into her face. "I suppose I shouldn't lecture you about how dangerous it can be around here," he said, serious for a moment.

"Zat is none of your concern."

"Gabrielle Delacour, everything about you has been my concern for the last three years," he said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ever since you arrived in Romania and started turning heads right and left and told me to ignore the Howler that my sister-in-law was sure to send for 'sheltering' her wayward sibling amongst dangerous beasts."

The statement of her name finally broke her composure, and the pout upon her lips was that of a headstrong part-veela girl who, not wholly unlike her sister before her, had run away from French propriety and luxury to revel in the unknown, finding the glow of someone red and warm and honest to bask in. And as Charlie watched, she muttered a spell under her breath and like the sun breaking out in a gray, dim sky, her beauty rose and rippled back through her body. He smiled affectionately as she stamped her foot in exasperation.

~*~

"'Ow could you tell?" she asked sulkily. "Veela 'ave a natural affinity for Charms, and my disguize was flawless."

One large, warm hand, freckles on the back and callouses on the palm, cupped her cheek, fingers sliding into the wings of her hair for a moment, and Gabrielle abruptly forgot her irritation. Blue eyes gazed into hazel ones, and his smile was warm and affectionate and not at all tempestuous: love strong and steady like a heartbeat, no dramatics or conceits, more truth than beauty.

"I could recognize you with or without your beauty," he said simply. "You're my girl."

He'd called her his girl ever since Bill and Fleur's wedding and she'd cornered him during the reception to learn everything he could possibly tell her about dragons. And for several years it had all been hazy daydream wishes on her part. But now, as he gazed down at her, her cheek being warmed by his touch, she smiled in contentment, knowing full-well that this really wasn't the time or place.

She'd revel in it later, the subtle change of intonation that suggested the new facet of their relationship, the way his fingers felt against her hair. For now, she was satisfied. His girl, with or without the beauty. His girl, in all the ways possible. "Oui, I am your girl," she murmured, reaching up and resting her hand over his for a moment before linking their fingers together. "Let's go 'ome, shall we?"

A crack and both of them vanished, earlier altercation forgotten. Home to jewel-bright scales and warm fires and adventure and a place where her beauty was the least valued of her assets.

Carried on a Breeze

2006-04-25T03:47:09Z

Title: Carried on a Breeze
Author: nutmeg610
Rating: G
Word Count: 578
Spoilers: er, I don't think so?
Summary: She a window flower, and he a winter breeze...
Notes: This was written for literarylemming's challenge for Charlie/Gabby fic using different poems as prompts. Enjoy. :)

Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze...

...But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.

~ Robert Frost

Gabby propped her elbows upon her window sill with a sigh. She let the cold winter breeze wash over her and seep into her bones. If her roommates were here, they would yell at her to shut the window, but they were all in the Great Hall, prattering on about their Christmas holidays and what they did during them. Gabby mostly kept to herself. They wanted nothing to do with her, so she wanted nothing to do with them.

A sharp blast of wind caused her white blonde hair to fly around her head, before it magically smoothed itself out again. Even with a quarter Veela blood, her hair had to make itself perfect at all times. With a frown, she put her chin in her hand and wished she was back at the Weasleys' for Christmas. It was good to see all of them, and to be a part of their tight-knit family for an English holiday. Had she been in France, she would have stayed home while her parents attended ball after ball. Or worse off, she would have had to join them at those balls.

She thought back to her Christmas with the Weasleys. She was of course invited because she was Fleur's sister, and now that Fleur was part of the family, Gabby was considered to be part of it too. She had spent most of her time with Charlie, asking him about his work with dragons. He never seemed to tire of her questions, or her enthusiasm, nor did he seem to just be humoring her. That's what she liked about him. She could tell he liked talking with her about dragons, and other things as well. At one point they had moved off the topic of dragons and onto other things as easily as if they had been friends all their lives.

Gabby slid her hands out the window and allowed the winter breeze to skim across her fingers. She missed him most of all. She wanted to write him a letter, saying how good it was to have seen him over the holiday, but she had told him that so many times while they were together, that it seemed redundant to do it again. There was nothing else for her to say to him in a letter either. She had only just returned to Hogwarts, and there was nothing worth noting in a letter.

"Nothing to say, that 'e doesn't already know." she whispered aloud to the breeze. With a sigh, she leaned back from the window and closed it tightly. Picking up her schoolbooks, she left for her first class.

Miles and miles away, in Romania, Charlie stood outside with his hands in his coat pockets. He supervised the new dragon keepers feeding a Hungarian Horntail, and when they were finished he advised them to get some lunch and tend to their burns. As much as he loved being back with the dragons, he missed being in England too. He wished it was still Christmastime, and he could be back in his childhood home. He missed his family, and all his friends that had visited for Christmas. He especially missed Gabby. After all, she was the only person he knew that could stand him talking endlessly about dragons.

A breeze kicked up and he braced himself against its cold bite. It was rather gentle though, and he relaxed his shoulders. Somehow, he had just realized that she missed him too.

The Price of Honor

2006-04-24T23:57:56Z

Title: The Price of Honor
Pairing: Charlie/Gabby
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own neither Charlie nor Gabby.
A/N: In response to Literarylemming's challenge. Um... I sorta took this lovely, happy quote and went dark. I started thinking about the effect this could have on Charlie. Sort of an AU to the Pendragon series by Literarylemming and aliaspiral. Sorry if this isn't what you were hoping for, M.

For, I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more.

(Richard Lovelace)

Charlie was in a hell that had nothing to do with the fire breathing beasts surrounding him. He’d only returned last week from a summer vacation with his family, correction, his family and its add-ons.

Which meant she was there. Sweet, young Gabrielle. Sunbathing. At fourteen, little Gabby possessed the lithe, tempting body of a quarter-veela. And Charlie was sure he would burn in the special hell for it.

It had been easy ignoring her the past few years when she was just Bill’s wife’s little sister, but now the pretense was over.

Charlie felt sick, disgusted with himself. Twelve days since he’d first seen Gabby in a bathing suit. Twelve nights he’d spent dreaming of her. It had to stop. He certainly couldn’t act on it anytime soon. He was a decade older than her!

What was wrong with him? Only sickos thought about little girls this way. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Charlie didn’t dream about little girls; his subconscious cavorted with only one girl.

Four years, he only had to wait four years. He could do that, right? Age quickly, Gabby.

The stack of letters next to his bed certainly didn’t help matters any. Her scent still clung to several, which Charlie had taken to carrying in his shirt’s inner pocket. After the first night of dreaming, he’d sworn to burn the entire stack. However, he couldn’t bring himself to destroy evidence of their friendship.

Tomorrow, he vowed, I’ll destroy them tomorrow.

The next morning, when Charlie woke up to sticky sheets, he didn’t make it to the bathroom before throwing up.

The letters quickly turned to ash in his fireplace.

All contact with his family, outside friends and underage girls ceased. Charlie refused to allow his sickness to corrupt anybody he cared about. Let them think he was just as bad as Percy, turning his back on them. It was a far better alternative to being labeled a pedophile.

As the dreams grew ever more graphic and X-rated, Charlie searched for spells, charms, therapy, confession, anything to fix himself or at least stop the dreams for one night. Nothing worked.

When the owls carrying desperate, angry, worried, curious and hurt letters started to arrive, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep them away much longer. Worse, Charlie wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand hating himself.

So, fifty-two days after watching Gabby sunbathe and after fifty-two nights filled with dreaming, Charlie Weasley simply disappeared.

Grow up fast, Gabby.

A fanfic challenge!

2006-04-22T15:20:35Z

Because I have decided there is nowhere NEAR enough Bill/Fleur or Charlie/Gabby fic out there in the big bad 'net, I have decided to issue a Challenge, in hopes of seeing some more get written. *nod!* I know my F-listers are creative people with tricksy brains -- I can't WAIT to see what y'all end up writing!

THE CHALLENGE
Write a Bill/Fleur OR Charlie/Gabrielle story (or a combination of both), based on one or more of the following prompts:

001.	No sister flower would be forgiven, If it disdained it's brother; (Percy Bysshe Shelley)	002.	I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night, alone I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again I am to see to it that I do not lose you. (Walt Whitman)
003.	Everybody loved Chick Lorimer in our town, Far off Everybody loved her. So we all love a wild girl keeping a hold On a dream she wants. Nobody knows now where Chick Lorimer went. Nobody knows why she packed her trunk. A few old things... and is gone. (Carl Sandburg)	004.	I am in love with him To whom a hyacinth is dearer Than I shall ever be dear. (Edna St. Vincent Millay)
005.	Her brow is like the snow drift, Her throat is like the swan, Her face, it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on. That e'er the sun shone on And dark blue are her eyes And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and die. (Willam Douglas)	006.	Ah, less-- less bright Are the stars of night Than the eyes of the radiant girl! And never a flake That the vapor can make With the moon-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl- Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl. (Edgar Allan Poe)
007.	My love is like to ice, and I to fire: How come it then that this her cold is so great Is not dissolved through my so hot desire, But harder grows the more I her entreat? (Edmund Spenser)	008.	For, I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not honour more. (Richard Lovelace)
009.	No longer could I doubt him true; All other men may use deceit: He always said my eyes were blue And often swore my lips were sweet. (Walter Savage Landor)	010.	Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory -- Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. (Percy Bysshe Shelley)
011.	He laughed at all I dared to praise And broke my heart, in little ways. (Edna St. Vincent Millay)	012.	If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
013.	Lovers, forget your love, And list to the love of these, She a window flower, And he a winter breeze... ...But the flower leaned aside And thought of naught to say, And morning found the breeze A hundred miles away. (Robert Frost)	014.	But thy eternal Summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: (William Shakespeare)
015.	There is a lady sweet and kind, Was never a face so pleased my mind; I did but see her passing by, And yet, I'll love her till I die. (Thomas Ford)	016.	A flower was offered to me: Such a flower as May never bore. But I said "I've a Pretty Rose-tree", And I passed the sweet flower o'er. Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree: To tend her by day and by night. But my Rose turn'd away with jealousy: And her thorns were my only delight. (William Blake)
017.	I wish I could remember the first day, First hour, first moment of your meeting me; If bright or dim the season it might be; Summer or winter for aught I can say. So, unrecorded did it slip away, So blind was i to see and to forsee, So dull to mark the budding of my tree That would not blossom, yet, for many a May. (Christina Rossetti)	018.	So, little, youthful maiden come Into my ample, feverish heart (Heinrich Heine) translated by David Doggett
019.	Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight? (Christopher Marlowe)	020.	Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love, Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. Oh, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests... and is never shaken. (William Shakespeare)

Write away, my precious doves! And when you've gotten your stories written, feel free to post them to flower_and_fang (Bill/Fleur) or pendragontales (Charlie/Gabby). And drop me a link, too! I don't want to miss a one. ;)

xposted to flower_and_fang, pendragontales, and literarylemming

Veela Screencaps - Goblet of Fire - Fleur & Gabrielle

2006-03-17T14:45:46Z

Because I was bored and in a Harry Potter mood I downloaded and wacthed Goblet of Fire.
I then made screencaps of all the Fleur & Gabby scenes because it didn't seem like that daunting of a task when I thought of it (little did I know that I'd be posting this HUGE post many hours later).
This mainly started because I wanted to see more icons made with the veela sisters and thought that if I supplied the pictures then graphics would abound.
Below is a link to 94 caps of all the Fleur scenes in GoF. Not dial-up friendly. But hopefully easier than sifting through many pages of general Harry Potter screencaps. Here, they are at least all on the same page.
"94 Screencaps"
x-posted to my journal and flower_and_fang

FIC: Time to Fight Dirty (PG-13)

2006-03-10T04:34:55Z

TITLE: Time to Fight Dirty
AUTHOR: Mnemosyne

Disclaimer: Not mine! All belongs to JK Rowling.
SUMMARY: Eighth in the "Pendragon" series. Gabby responds to Charlie's warning that he might not make it back to England in time for Christmas. Needless to say, she's not very happy!
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Gabrielle Delacour, mention of Charlie Weasley
SPOILERS: None to speak of!
NOTES:
FINALLY I've gotten to write this story. I tell you, the past few months have been INSANE. Oy! But I had to write this because my dear Alia has been having a terrible week, and I wanted to give her some Gabby to make it a little better. For you, m'dear!

Charlie Weasley, if you do not come home for Christmas, I will-!

And that was as far as she'd gotten. Over an hour of work, and Gabby still hadn't been able to come up with a suitable threat. How did you inspire fear in an experienced dragon keeper? Perhaps she should threaten to take away his fire retardant long johns?

"But zat would require me to be in Romania, Odette," she complained to her snowy white owl, which was pecking idly at her bedcurtains. "And I do not theenk zat 'eadmistress McGonagall would let me miss ze end of term exams so zat I might torture Sharlie Weasley, non? Non."

She sighed heavily and rolled onto her stomach, still clutching her parchment. Nibbling on the end of her quill, she kicked her feet and tried to imagine what could possibly frighten Charlie Weasley.

"Well, 'e is strong," she said, addressing her words to Odette but speaking more to herself. "So in matterz of strength, 'e is unafraid. Hmmm..." Perhaps an insult to his manliness would do it? Mama always said men suffered from an excess of vanity, which was very funny coming from a half-veela.

Sticking her tongue out ever so slightly, Gabby bent over her parchment and began to scribble.

Charlie Weasley, if you do not come home for Christmas, I will-! *scritch scratch cross out* if you do not come home for Christmas, I swear I will-! *erase erase erase* if you do not come home for Christmas, I promise by all you hold dear-!

"Arrrrgh!" Gabby vented, stabbing at the parchment with her wand to erase what little progress she'd made. Odette squawked and fluttered away from the violent motion. "Zis iz stoopid! I cannot insult 'is manliness, because I 'ave not seen 'im in so looong zat I do not even know what to insult!"

Pouting furiously, she rolled onto her back and stared at the canopy of her bed. Grunting in annoyance, she shoved her long, silvery hair out of her face. Sometimes she could swear her hair had a mind of its own; it was constantly in the way. Swinging when she didn't want it to swing, draping when she didn't want it to drape, cascading when she absolutely did not want it to cascade. It was distracting and frustrating and she hated it. Fleur patently refused to cut it for her, and her mother... Well, her mother would have splinched herself at the mere idea of a veela trimming her hair. The hair was all part of the magic, as Mama and Fleur had reminded her over and over since the year Dot. And while she enjoyed brushing it – which was very calming – that only accounted for a fraction of the time she had to spend alone with her hair; the lion's share was spent trying very hard to ignore it was there.

"Per'aps I should insult 'is good looks, Odette, oui?" she posited aloud, shifting around until her hair looked more normal and less like an artistically arranged portrait. "'E 'as enuff to spare! It would not 'urt 'im to be taken down a notch or six, oui? Or all 'is prettiness will go to 'is 'ead and 'e will blow up like a big balloon. POP!" She shoved a finger in her mouth in unladylike fashion and yanked it out, making a loud popping noise.

Crossing her arms over her stomach, she grumbled, "Pretty. Too, too pretty. And being pretty iz nuzzing but a curse, oui? Oh, Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed in exasperation, sitting up and twisting her hair into a messy bun low on the base of her skull. "You were trying to fan prettily!" she berated the offending tresses. "Do not deny zis, I could feel it! I do not want you to fan prettily! Why can you not jus' act like normal 'air! If Fleur were not so silly about zese t'ings, I would cut you all off-!"

She stopped, eyes wide, mouth caught in mid-harangue.

Oh, it was perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Tres magnifique!

Giggling with glee, Gabby flipped over on the bed and crawled to the edge, reaching out to open her nightstand and fish around until her hand closed on the enameled handle of her mirror. Tugging it out of the drawer, she moved up onto her knees and held it up in front of her. Giving her wand a practiced swish and flick with her free hand, she intoned, "Wingardium leviosa!" and released the handle of the mirror. It floated in front of her face.

"Do you know what iz a verrah scary t'ing to many people, Odette?" she asked, as she eyed her long, silky hair in the mirror.

Odette hooted.

"No? Zen I will tell you." Giggling even harder, she held her head up high and touched her wand to her hair.

"In-laws," she purred.

Dear Charlie,

I have cut my hair (see enclosed lock of same). It is very short and swingy now. I have bangs! Fleur will be having kittens when she finds out, but it has made me much happier. The hair is all part of the veela magic, as they say, so perhaps with less hair, I will be troubled less by the magic. Yes? We shall see.

Oh, and Charlie? If you do not come home for Christmas, I am shaving the rest off. And I will tell Fleur that it is all.

Your.

Fault.

Happy Christmas!

Your friend,
Gabby

PS -- Say hello to the dragons for your Gabby! I will see you at Christmas, mon ami.

Gabrielle watched as Odette soared through the mid-afternoon sky towards Romania, carrying the neatly sealed envelope that contained her brief letter and the lock of hair. It was amazing how light she felt all of a sudden; like she could dance in the craters of the moon if she just jumped high enough.

Beaming, she spun away from the window, laughing as her newly trimmed hair swished around her face. She could just imagine Charlie's face when he read her letter. He'd seen Fleur's temper in full swing on more than one occasion; Gabby knew without a doubt he'd do everything in his power to avoid incurring it.

"Why yes, Sharlie, it IZ me," she said to thin air, beaming as she playacted shaking his hand. "Do you like?" She couldn't resist primping a little, loving the feeling of the silky strands pouring through her fingers before ending abruptly just below her jaw.

Fleur was going to have fits. Mama was going to have a breakdown.

They'd get over it.

This was going to be the best Christmas EVER.

THE END
(Alia's turn now!)

xposted to literarylemming and pendragotales

pendragontales @ 2006-01-24T01:14:00

2006-01-24T06:14:24Z

Hey there everyone! This community's been a bit dead lately, so as I was searching for stock photos last night, I came across something that could be Charlie/Gabby-esque. A quick run through Photoshop, and I bring you a pic of Charlie and Gabby on vacation, as well as a letter they owled home to Bill and Fleur. Enjoy!

FANART, WALLPAPER, ICONS

2005-12-28T05:32:13Z

So I've been a busy bee! Here's some icons I've made of our favorite couple, as well as a wallpaper and a sketch of C/G I colored in Photoshop. Enjoy!

Teasers: :: ::

01. 02. 03.

04. 05. 06.

07. 08. 09.

10. 11. 12.

Wallpaper

Please don't use for anything but your personal desktop wallpaper! Click it for 1024 X 768 size.

FANART
Title: Secretly in Love
Artist: nutmeg610
Medium: Sketched with a 2B pencil and colored in Photoshop.
Notes: I really owe this pic coming together to Makani, whose awesome tutorials at her site, http://acciobrain.ligermagic.com/, taught me how to draw so nice. :) I still think it's kind of badly done though. I'm no pro or anything, and Charlie looks weird, like how I pictured Lupin looking. *shuffles feet nervously* I like my Gabby though. Please don't swipe this and claim as your own, but if you want to make icons or anything (not that I think anyone would, it's not that great) then go ahead, just credit me for the pic, k? Feedback would be great!

Icons.

2005-12-26T21:14:58Z

Hi! New convert here and I come bearing presents; some icons I did.

Like? Take. Credit's nice but not indispensable.

pendragontales @ 2005-12-24T02:43:00

2005-12-24T07:48:46Z

Title: Nowhere Else I Want to Be (part 2)
Author: nutmeg610
Rating: PG
Spoilers: nope
Notes:This is part two (obviously). Part One is here. Now it's Charlie's turn! :) Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays, if you prefer. Here's a present for all the Charlie/Gabby shippers out there! Feedback would be like, the most awesome thing in the history of ever.

Charlie was just pulling on his coat when Gabby came bounding into his tent, a huge smile spread across her elegant face. "You must 'urry up, Sharlie! I won't wait all day for you!" And with that she left the tent, as quickly as she had entered. Charlie chuckled and called after her, "Don't go without me!" before buttoning up his jacket and following her. She was a few paces outside, her arms crossed over her chest and an amused expresion gracing her features.

"What ees zee matter, Sharlie? Don't you trust me?" she asked with a grin.

Charlie smiled back and closed the distance between them. "Course I trust you." he answered. "It's the dragons I don't trust. C'mon." He took her hand in his and they walked towards the Norwegian Ridgebacks.

"When will you let me feed the dragons?" Gabby asked excitedly. Charlie sighed. "Gabby," he began in a gentle tone, which caused Gabby to let out a huff. "Oh, I see 'ow it is. You still see me as that little girl whose eyes nearly pop out of 'er 'ead at zee sight of a dragon." Charlie smiled again. "Your eyes still do pop out of your head."

Gabby dropped her hand away from his and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the ground. Charlie sighed again. The walked in silence for a moment before Gabby spoke. "I would not be 'ere if the tamers in charge thought I could not handle zee dragons. I 'ave finished my training, so why do you still doubt me?"

Charlie stopped and turned her to face him. "I don't doubt you Gabby." At the look she threw him he added, "Really, I don't. Do you want to know what it is? I think, I'm just too overprotective of you. I know you can handle yourself with the dragons, but accidents happen, even to old men like me." A smile broke across her face at that. "And I don't want to lose you. You mean so much to me, you know." Gabby seemed to digest this for a moment, before smiling and wrapping her arms around him.

"I am sorry mon Sharlie. I'm being too impatient. I will trust your judgment from now on."

Charlie pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "Well, I guess I gotta realize that you're all grown up now, oui?" Gabby giggled and nodded her head against his chest. Then she pulled away and grabbed his hand. "Come! Zee dragons do not like to wait for zere meal."

"All right, all right. Walk slow, I'm an old man!"

Gabby laughed as she pulled his hand. "No you are not! You are my 'andsome, young, sweet Sharlie!" Charlie had to swell his chest out a bit at the 'handsome' part and took a few quick steps to catch up with her. "You know what?" he said. "As part of our new understanding, I think you should help me feed the dragons, instead of just waiting and watching. What do you say?"

Gabby threw herself into his arms. "I say you are zee most wonderful man in zee whole world!" As she practically knocked the air out of him, he grew a bit dizzy, and a moment later, he found himself lying on the floor of the Burrow in his sleeping bag. He blinked, once, twice, and took in his surroundings. Not more than five feet away was Gabby, sleeping on the couch, as the Burrow was crowded with Christmas guests. He shook his head, hoping to shake the dream away with it. But it was no use. The idea of he and Gabby together as a couple was planted in his head. Well, he thought to himself, at least she was older in my dream. And with that thought he rolled away from her and tried to get comfortable again. "That's the last time I eat pie right before bed." he murmured aloud. On the couch, Gabby stifled a giggle.

Holiday Fic

2005-12-23T06:07:04Z

Title: Noel
Rating: PG, for culinary and holiday frustration.
Summary: The first Christmas hosted at Gabby and Charlie’s new house. Gabrielle’s not having so much luck in the kitchen…
Note: Inspired by my sister the 16 year old culinary student who spends all day making Buche de Noel like its instant pudding while I, the 20 year old film student, goof up the family toffee recipe four times in two days. Damn you gene pool, you finicky bastard.

Charlie was perched precariously on a footstool, trying to attach a rather garish looking star to the ceiling fan in the living room. He had avoided putting the ugly, glittery thing up so far but Gabrielle finally told him they’d have to put it somewhere. Harry bought it for them after all. Charlie half suspected Harry bought the thing as a cruel sort of house warming joke. Nonetheless, he was hanging the blasted thing.

He was trying to tie a knot in the silver yarn to secure the star when a serious of bangs and a string of curses in French suddenly sounded from the kitchen. Charlie nearly toppled over in his surprise, at the last minute managing to balance himself. He quickly finished hanging the star and hopped off the ladder to see what was wrong.

When Charlie got to the kitchen he was suddenly reminded of his brothers and many fake potion experiments gone wrong in the Borrow kitchen. There was flour and bits of dough nearly everywhere, including smeared against one of Gabby’s cheeks and mashed into her normally elegant looking white hair.

“Honey, you okay?” he asked timidly.

“No ah am not okay!” she snapped. She was glaring at the charred remains of some sort of pastry resting haphazardly on the countertop. “Zis nevah seemed so ‘ard when Maman was doing it! Eet’s being stubborn.”

“What are you trying to make?” he asked, not able to discern the origin of the burnt mess.

“Buche de Noel,” she growled, as if the name alone were a curse.

“A what de what what?”

“Eet ees a pastry,” she explained. “Made to look like a Yule log.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Zis, ZIS ees no log,” Gabby lunged forward and tossed the burnt cake, cookie sheet and all, into the trash can. Charlie jumped in after her in a poor attempt to save the cookie sheet and sooth Gabby’s raw nerves all at the same time.

“I’m sure our family won’t care if there isn’t…uh…a Yule Log cake.” He shook the tray in an attempt to dislodge the charred cake. After his third attempt he just rolled his eyes and dropped the tray back into the garbage can.

“Fleur ees coming! Fleur will care!” Gabby was sitting at the kitchen table now, looking defeated. “Zis ees ze first Christmas we are ‘osting, I wanted eet to be perfect.”

“Oh Honey, it will be,” he said, taking a seat next to her and brushing his hand down her arm soothingly.

They had made plans to host this years Christmas a year ago, at Ron and Hermione’s. Gabrielle and Charlie had just bought the house in Romania and Gabby was itching to show it off to her in-laws. She particularly wanted to impress Molly Weasley, who still seemed critical of her newest daughter-in-law.

“You would zink she doesn’t know me at all,” Gabby had complained to Hermione in private. “Ze way she treats me, like I am somezing ‘orrible stuck on her shoe.”

Hermione had laughed then told her, “It’s not your fault. She’s protective. I think the only reason she went lenient on me was because she’s known me since I was eleven.”

“I was no older zen zat when Fleur and Bill were married!”

Hermione blushed and shrugged. “Well then…bollocks if I know.” Gabby had been surprised at both Hermione’s language and that she really seemed to have no answer to the Molly problem. Mothers-in-law, it seemed, were beyond even Head Girl knowledge.

The panic hadn’t really set in until December. Molly had started sending owls regularly, offering help, offering to host it at the Borrow, insisting Gabby may have bit of more that she could chew. Gabby was sure Molly sent more letters that Gabby ever got to actually read. Charlie admitted openly to using some of them as kindling in their fireplace.

By Christmas morning the panic had grown into sheer terror. Gabby had seemed to forget in her haste to impress Molly that she wasn’t all too talented in the kitchen. She had been pleased with her decorations, the tree was beautiful, but the food would be a problem. She set about cooking early, after opening presents of course. Charlie insisted the pensive made with sapphires and silver he gave her didn’t get nearly the proper amount of praise it warranted because Gabby was too preoccupied with Goose and how to properly cook it, of all things.

The goose, it had turned out, was the easiest bit. She bought one from the Wizarding grocery store and it cooked itself with a mere flick of the wand. The side dishes all followed easily, although there was a minor scuffle with the potatoes.

Of all the things to turn into a catastrophe, it had to be the one aspect of French culture she was injecting into the holiday.

“Why can’t you just…I dunno, use magic to help it along?” Charlie asked, glancing at the recipe Gabby had spread out across their table.

“Eet won’t work,” she sighed. “Eef I try to use magic, eet will collapse or…worse. Ze French are a ‘orribly proud people. Zey insist on tradition. Eet must be made the ‘ard way.”

“You talk about it like you aren’t French,” he chuckled.

“I ‘ave no right to call myself French eef I cannot make zis,” she whined, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

“It’s okay, really, it’s…” Charlie looked a bit helpless for a minute, not sure how to properly sooth the food frustrated woman beside him. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Eet ees! Your Maman already ‘ates me, zis will make it worse,” Gabby hiccupped.

Charlie sighed and pushed his chair around to face Gabby. He tugged on her hand and she fell into his arms, burrowing her face against his chest and sniffling into his sweater. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t hate you she’s just…sometimes she’s a bit too critical for her own good. If she didn’t like you…well he’d have hexed you by now.”

Gabrielle huffed disbelievingly but said nothing.

“And besides, I think the fact that you still eat your chips with mayonnaise makes you, without a doubt, French.”

Gabby giggled, though it ended in a weepy sniff. “I know you ‘ate it. I’m sorry.”

“Eh, I’ll learn to live with it,” he promised with a shrug. “Besides I think in all this panicking, you seem to be forgetting that you are not the first daughter-in-law in history to screw up her first big family meal.”

“I’m not?”

“No. In fact, you weren’t at the first Christmas Fleur and Bill hosted were you?”

Gabby lifted her head from his chest and frowned, scrounging around for the memory. “No…I wasn’t. I went to ze next one. But for ze first one, I was with my Maman.”

“Okay, so you missed Fleur dropping the goose on the floor?”

“She did?”

“Yeah. Mum saw her do it too. Fleur washed it and pretended nothing happened but then Mum kept commenting all through the meal that she swore she tasted dish soap on her piece.”

Gabby was truly laughing now and the sound made Charlie smile. “I wonder why she never told me zat?”

“Probably too embarrassed,” he said, planting a soft kiss to her forehead before standing up. “Alright, so…how about I pop into town and buy some pies? Think that’ll work?”

Gabby looked up at him with a grateful smile. “Zank you Charlie.”

“No problem, I love you, ya know,” he grinned and picked up his jacket from where it hung on a post by the back door.

“I love you, Charlie. Joyeux Noel,” She said, feeling happy it was Christmas for the first time since she volunteered to host the blasted thing.

“Happy Christmas to you too, love.” He winked at her before walking out their back door.

Gabby sat still for a moment longer before slowly getting to her feet. “Well…eef I won’t have my desert…I will at least ‘ave a clean ‘ome.” She set about cleaning and as she did, she found herself humming a carol and smiling the whole time.

END

( If you want to know, I think the Harry’s star proved to be a danger. Bill is ruddy tall, I’m sure he ran into it and there was bleeding of some kind. Other then that our kiddies party went smoothly. I think, anyway….I may write a sequel with the party. But I think that will require more thought and caffeine. XD )

pendragontales @ 2005-12-19T02:48:00

2005-12-19T07:49:45Z

Title: Nowhere Else I Want to Be
Author: nutmeg610
Rating: PG
Spoilers: er, I dunno... none?
Notes: This could be seen as the sequel to my untitled ficlet that I wrote for literarylemming, which can be found here at pendragontales. However, you don't need to have read that to understand this. I should point out that I know nothing about the Harry Potter 'verse, to which literarylemming said, "Who cares? Make it up! DO IT! DO IT!", or something to that effect. Besides, this is all her and aliaspiral's faults anyways. ;) I also know diddly about French, and I doubt Babelfish is that reliable, but oh well, I only needed one word. Enjoy! Feedback makes me smile! :)

Gabby slipped out from the entrance of her tent to look across the reservation. A few hundred yards away, a Hungarian Horntail was being fed by a tall man with fiery red hair. Gabby smiled and hurried over to him. She stopped a short distance away and said, "Ello, Sharlie!"

Charlie made sure the dragon was occupied with eating his meal before turning around and smiling at the French beauty. "Bonjour!" he called back to her in a horrid French accent before he trotted over and put his arm around her. She smiled up at him and laid her head on his chest. "Oh, Sharlie! I am so glad zat we are finally 'ere together! I have waited for zis for so long!"

Charlie laughed and kissed the top of her head. "So have I, my little dragon tamer! How's about we check up on the Norwegian Ridgebacks now?" Gabby practically squeeled and grabbed his hand to drag him away. "And zen zee Romanian Longhorn, oui?" He laughed again and nodded. "Oui, them too." As the walked along the path, Gabby gently ran a finger down the dragon fang which hung around her neck. "Zere is no ozzer place I want to be zan right 'ere, right now, with you. It is like something out of a dream, oui?"

"Mmm hmm, sure is." he answered, pulling her closer. "I can't remember what my life was like before you came into it, little one." Gabby giggled and bumped her hip against his. "I told you not to call me zat! I am twenty soon!" Charlie chuckled and bumped her hip back. "But you're short, so you're little. See? It all works out." Gabby rolled her eyes in response and let out a sigh. "Zen I will just 'ave to zink of an enfantin nickname for you, mon Sharlie. What do you zink of zat?"

To her surprise, he didn't answer her, and as she turned to look at him, a cold breeze blew upon her, causing her to rub her arms with her hands. Everything grew fuzzy, and before she knew it, Gabby found herself lying on the Weasley's couch in the Burrow, her blanklet lying pooled on the floor, and goosebumbs forming on her arms from the draft. Gabby looked around in the dark, the fire having died down ages ago. It was Christmas Day, or the day after, depending on what time it was. In front of the fireplace, where only the embers still glowed, lay Charlie in his sleeping bag, one arm flung over his head and his mouth hanging over. Gabby stifled a giggle as she pulled her blanket back up over herself. She laid her head back on the pillow and looked at him. She had never had such a dream before. Especially not one where she and Charlie seemed so... close. Sure, she had dreamed of dragons before. But never had one of those dreams involved Charlie. Gabby thought he must have appeared in it because she had been so excited to see him. She lifted her head and ran her hand across the end table, picking up the dragon fang he had given her as a Christmas present and running a finger down the smooth surface before placing it back down, and snuggling under the covers again.

Charlie snapped his lips together in his sleep and his head rolled to the side. Gabby struggled not to laugh, especially when he began to mumble. "Don't go without me." he mumbled aloud. Gabby bit her lip, wondering what he was dreaming about. "Course I trust you." he continued, causing Gabby to snort slightly. Charlie let out a content sigh. "Gabby..." he said, still asleep, causing Gabby to practically swallow her tongue.

pendragontales @ 2005-12-18T01:46:00

2005-12-18T07:40:26Z

Title: Drawing Dragons
Rated: PG
Summary: Gabrielle and Charlie get tattooed.
Note: Inspired by literarylemming's wallpaper with the dragon tattoo pictures. Insert plot bunny here. This is my first fic here. My first...anything here. But I LOVE this ship and I've read everything else on this community. Gah, it's all so wonderful. Anyway...hope this is okay for my first adventure into C/G land. It's unbetad so...apologies for any errors.

"This ees going to 'urt isn't eet?"

Charlie choked back a laugh when he saw just how nervous Gabrielle truly was. She was eyeing the medical table with critical apprehension and her grip on Charlie's hand had grown noticeably tighter. Her accent, which over the years had begun to soften near to the point of disappearing, was suddenly back in full force. A true sign she was nervous. Once she'd had a nasty run in with a Chinese fireball and it had taken her two hours to stop shouting in French so Charlie could understand what was wrong.

"Only for a little bit. They heal them a little after they’re done and then they do the charms to make them move. I mean…if you've changed your mind, it's okay..."

"Non." Her face was once more one of fierce, stubborn, determination. "I want to do zis. I will do zis."

He smiled and tucked a rebellious strand of silver hair behind her ear. The rest was pulled into a braid, sensible but fun. Her sister would have slicked her hair back into an elegant bun, not a hair out of place. While it wasn't fair for Charlie to criticize his sister-in-law, he admitted to himself he preferred Gabrielle's sense of style. She seemed caught between her own desire to run round ragged and the never ending pull of her aristocratic upbringing. The end result being some unholy mixture of the two. They had attended his brother Ron's wedding last week and Gabrielle had shown up in expensive plain blue robes, but wore neon green stockings underneath that only Charlie could see. He'd had to stuff himself with wedding cake to keep from laughing.

"You have ze drawings?"

Gabrielle's voice snapped Charlie back to the here and now. He reached into his pocket and took out a carefully folded piece of parchment.

"Yeah got it here." He raised a curious eyebrow. "You know where you want yours?"

Gabrielle blushed a bit but giggled happily. "I zink ze small of my back would be lovely."

"Me too." His voice had dropped with pleasure at the idea and Gabrielle's blush deepened.

"And you? Where will yours be?"

"Shoulder? Maybe." He shrugged.

Gabrielle grinned a tad wickedly and ran a hand up Charlie's arm to rest on his shoulder. "I would like zat."

"Should it is then," he said with a firm nod. Gabrielle giggled and rested her head atop said shoulder.

"You are so very easy to convince, da'ling."

They stood together for a few more minutes until, finally, the tattoo artist arrived. Gabrielle bravely offered to go first, chin up I defiance. Charlie held Gabrielle's hand the whole time, but it turned out she hardly needed it. When she was told it was all done, she looked pleasantly surprised.

"Zat was not bad at all!" she said, positively beaming. "Your turn now Charlie." She still stumbled over pronouncing his name some days, but either way made him smile.

He hopped onto the table Gabrielle had just vacated and promptly took of his shirt and lay down. Gabrielle offered her hand and Charlie took it, hesitantly. It was alright for her to hold his hand, but he should be able to tolerate this, shouldn't he? The look in Gabrielle's eyes made it obvious she new what he was thinking, so he took her hand without a word.

Good thing too, because it turned out to hurt like a bloody bitch.

Gabrielle was crying with laughter by the time Charlie was let up and he scowled at her as she doubled over in her seat in hysterics.

"Not. Funny."

"So very very funny!" she argued between gulps for air and continuing giggles.

Charlie was scrounging around for his shirt and trying not to blush in humiliation when he felt an arm slowly snake around his waist. Charlie stopped his rustling and looked over at Gabrielle, who had an apologetic smile on her face.

"I'm sorry Charlie, I did not mean to make fun." She accented her apology with a small kiss to his bare arm.

"S'okay, I was kinda stupid," he admitted.

"Doesn't matter now, zee, look..." She pulled him gently over to a full length mirror. She turned to the mirror and lifted up her shirt so Charlie could see her tattoo, still red and raw but beautiful, a dragon twisting in flight. She wordlessly spun him around so he could see over his shoulder his own tattoo, a similar dragon in style but just different enough so he could imagine them being a pair.

"Our dragons are coupled," she said. "Or...zhat is not zee word...um..."

"Mated?" Charlie raised an eyebrow. Gabrielle swatted at him playfully.

"Perhaps," she mused with a shrug. "Zey are tres belle, non?"

"Yeah they are. Uh...trez belle, we?"

He heard he giggle again, a noise he knew he'd never tire of. "Your French is 'orrible."

“I won’t be able to hold you round the waist for a while,” he said, ignoring her attack on his linguistic abilities, or lack thereof.

“Shouldn’t take too much time to heal. Zhen you can ‘old me all you want. Long as you want.”

He lifted his non-tattooed arm and slung it over Gabrielle’s shoulder’s, pulling her to him. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and sighed in content. “You like them then?”

“I love zhem,” she whispered happily. “I love you.”

They shared a kiss in front of the mirror and neither of them noticed when Charlie’s tattoo promptly decided it had enough of loneliness and slipped across the couple’s joined hands to slide in to place next to his mate. Their tails wrapped around one another’s happily and later it would take Charlie an hour to convince the renegade tattoo to travel back to his shoulder where it belonged.

pendragontales @ 2005-12-17T23:28:00

2005-12-18T07:29:55Z

a Charlie/Gabrielle story - Rating: Currently PG

If he spent long enough with the dragons, sometimes Charlie forgot why he had begun in the first place; sometimes the feeling that had been with him since he first began at Hogwarts lifted, and all that was left was the fierce joy of the dragons themselves. Somehow, he knew, the boy he had been had made the right choice – somehow, he had ended up where he was supposed to be. That was why he didn’t go home, the real reason: if he went home, he might forget this new emotion. This familiar, unfamiliar elation at hard work and at the smell of sulfur and scorched air.

Somehow he was where he was supposed to be. And in that sense of right-ness, that newfound contentedness with his life, Charlie forgot – almost – about what was happening around him. Charlie didn’t think about his little brother valiantly trying his damnedest to survive till his twenty-first birthday. He didn’t think about Percy – estranged for years, now – or Bill, or any of his family.

In the mountains where the dragon-camp had their base, the entire outside world could be avoided: Voldemort, the war, old flames, dead friends, family. So Charlie – accidentally but not with resistance – let the outside world fade and blur like a drowning man watches the sky ripple far above him.

Which is why the owl came as a surprise. The day had been a long, exhausting, fulfilling one, and Charlie was looking forward to sleep like most men look forward to sex. Looking forward to it, so much, that he almost ignored the owl rapping at the window; eventually, however, the stupid bird sounded like it was going to break through so he gave in and let the thing in.

He recognized Bill’s owl right away, despite the sleepiness crowding in on his mind, and pinched his nose a few times to try to wake up. Bill and Fleur rarely owled – the last message from them had been a short message from the hospital telling Charlie to get the fuck back to England as Remus looked like he might not make it.

(Remus had pulled through, though he was still recovering from the after-affects of the poison five months later.)

Tossing the horned owl a treat, Charlie unfolded the letter, smoothing it out over his desk to read Bill’s cramped handwriting better.

Brother;
Sorry we haven’t been in contact – it’s been wild lately. Fleur’s mother took ill last month and though it looks like she’ll do just fine over time, she was hardly fit to take care of little Gabrielle (not so little anymore; you’d hardly recognize her, Chuck). You know how all the schools have been closed for the past year since You Know Who found that loophole through Hogwart’s defenses – Gabrielle had nowhere to go, so we took her in.

Things have gotten complicated, though. She’s gotten mixed in some dangerous things – things the ministry took notice to – and we need somewhere to send her for a few months till it all cools down. I know the dragon camp’s pretty rough, but believe me, she’s up to it.

Please send your response quickly. We’re desperate, and short of time.

Bill & Fleur

Charlie swore once, then again, causing the owl to flutter in alarm and give a soft hoot. Bill had no idea of how rough the dragon camp was; he was fond of his sister-in-law, and the kid was cute from what he could remember, but he doubted either of them would last a day in camp. Why was it his responsibility to take care of some brat who couldn’t even keep out of trouble with the ministry?

The ministry – he rethought things, and they only turned out worse. If the girl was in trouble with the higher-ups, she must have been messing around with some really dangerous things. The last thing he needed right now was a dark arts delinquent.

We’re desperate. Charlie knew, though, that – oh, fucking hell – he had to accept. That was just what Weasleys did for each other - even a Weasley who lived with dragons in some remote camp in another country. You help each other out when help is needed. And from what Bill had written, help was certainly needed.

He wasn’t Percy. Of course he couldn’t refuse. Tucking the letter into his back pocket (mindful of the hole in the denim), he pulled a clear sheet of parchment from the pile on his makeshift desk and wrote:

Brother;
I’m not happy about it but I can’t argue. If you need a place to throw her, you can throw her here (I really wish Sirius’ old place was still around though). Owl me about how she’s getting here, and when. I’ll tell the head of the camp – he’ll really be happy with me.

You owe me.

Charlie

He handed the rolled parchment to the owl, and was asleep before it was out of view in the sky.

Wallpaper: Influence

2005-12-17T19:52:14Z

Hello, all! My first non-fic contribution to the good 'ship Charlie/Gabby. It's not much, but I hope you enjoy!

all credit goes to aliaspiral for finding these great pics!

xposted to literarylemming and pendragontales

pendragontales @ 2005-12-16T09:06:00

2005-12-16T14:10:19Z

Title: Games
Series: ? (Somebody give me something, please)
Author: Sevangel
Disclaimer: Not mine
Rating: PG
Takes place after anger

Games

Ficlet: Waltz of the Welsh Green

2005-12-15T04:48:26Z

Title: Waltz of the Welsh Green
Author: alianora
Rating: G
Spoilers: GoF
Summery: At the first task, Charlie sees Gabrielle again. Sequel to Horntail Hornpipe.

Je l'aime!

For helena_icons, because she asked. hope you like it!

Icon Offering

2005-12-15T03:32:45Z

OK, so before I humbly offer my icons up your scrutinizing eyes I feel I must say that helena_icons has completely and utterly stolen my thunder with her wonderful icons that were posted just as I was typing this out. While she had 25 icons to offer and 1 awesome wallpaper, I have 3 icons and 1 manip. Hopefully this does justice to the great and powerful ship of Charlie/Gabby (and *maybe* inspires some more ficcage in the Pendragon series).

Charlie/Gabby
3 Icons
1 Manip

Charlie/Gabby

Icons

Manip

Any comments made are lovely. Hope you enjoyed!

an abundance of Pendragon icons... a.k.a.... i have no life.

2005-12-15T03:07:24Z

i hope that these inspire some more wonderous Pendragon (Charlie/Gabrielle) fic... as i'm about to start begging here.

snag as per rules

preview...

follow the fake livejournal cut >>> HERE

oh, and the wallpaper, just tell me if you're taking it... that's all folks.

Helena

* text courtesy of aliaspiral's fic Horntail Hornpipe found here... i hope you don't mind i used your text... tell me if it's not okay.

icon attempt....

2005-12-14T00:11:58Z

um...hi... *waves*

yeah... i blame lemming and aliaspiral for this... because i really *needed* another OTP...uh huh.

oh well.

please accept my humble offering.

preview...

more here

all your fault.

Helena

Happy Weasley Day!

2005-12-13T05:59:12Z

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHARLIE!!

In celebration, the Lemming and i worked together (for good, not evil this time) to bring you ICONS.

which are HERE, and include the icon im using for posting, as well as a quite hot Charlie icon. *drools*

there are only three, and im sorry, but really, gettyimages only has some many pics we can work with on this one...

Ficlet: Dragons From Clay

2005-12-13T01:43:22Z

Title: Dragons From Clay
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling
Words: 378
Rating: G
Summary: Charlie gets a note from Gabby on his birthday.
Author’s Notes: According to JKRowling.com, December 12th is Charlie’s birthday. I thought that was occasion for another letter (hope that’s okay, Alia and Lemming)

Dear Charlie,

Happy Birthday! Your mother owled Bill and Fleur this morning to make sure they did not forget, but I had already reminded them. I think your brother may have forgotten, though; after the owl he seemed quite flustered and my sister did not look happy.

I do not think you should expect a gift from them this year.

But since I remembered, you get something from me! It is not much, and I am sorry for that, but being away from school on Christmas holiday has left my resources limited. (I did tell you I was staying with Bill and Fleur until Christmas at your parents’ house, yes?) I did the best I could and I hope you enjoy it.

Tell the dragons not to give you too much trouble in the coming weeks; I fully expect to see you at Christmas dinner!

I hope your birthday finds you safe and happy,
Gabby

Charlie grinned and leaned back on one of the cots in the tamers’ on-site break tent. He ripped off the twine and brown paper to find a small white box. Lifting the lid, he pulled out a brightly colored clay dragon that had the letters ‘CW’ etched in its back. Tied around its neck was a ribbon much like the one Charlie kept tied around his wrist; instinctively, he raised the dragon to his nose and smelled the jasmine that seemed to stick to everything Gabby touched. There was a note tied to the ribbon and he tugged it off to read.

Mother insisted I attend a Muggle school for one year when I was very young. They taught us how to make things with clay and then bake them. They do not move like our toy dragons though because the Muggles can’t charm the clay. I would have charmed this for you, but I do not think even Fred and George could get away with magic like that outside of school. Happy Birthday, Charlie!

Charlie tucked the note in his shirt pocket, stretching out on the cot, crossing his ankles and folding his hands behind his head. The little dragon sat on his chest and when Charlie fell asleep a few minutes later, he dreamed that little Gabby had delivered the gift herself.