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Bill and Fleur’s wedding was a chance for you to dress up, but it was also a time for you to actually spend time with Charlie. You saw him rarely since you both graduated from Hogwarts, but wrote letters often. You’d been very close in school and while you’d been proud of him for following his dreams, you also missed him often. 

You’d been rather self-conscious if you were being totally honest. Putting on a nice dress, doing your hair, putting on some make-up. It made you arguably more self-conscious because there was nothing to hide behind, instead all the nice trimmings drew attention to you. It felt like people would be looking at you and you still had times when that felt like negative attention rather than positive. 

You smoothed the fabric down over your stomach as you looked in the mirror. It wasn’t so much that you disliked your body, most of the time you had a confidence that your younger self would have been envious of, but sometimes you let negative thoughts get in the way. You sometimes let the idea of what other people would think of the size of your stomach, or the rolls at your waist, or the width of your hips, or the size of your arms, get in the way of feeling good. It was hard when you were surrounded by images and ideas that focused on thinness. Even in the wizarding community beauty tended to be placed upon thinness and thin you certainly were not. 

“Stop being silly, you look lovely.” You told yourself, scoffing at your own silly, niggling little doubts, they didn’t go away though. But you chose to hide that, a smile hid most insecurities and doubts. 

You watched your feet as you made your way down the stairs of the Burrow, having stayed over night and gotten ready there thanks to the hospitality of Mrs Weasley. The stairs in the Burrow were incredibly twisty and the last thing you needed to do today was fall down multiple flights of stairs. 

“Wow…you look beautiful, love.” You looked up to see Charlie Weasley, your old childhood friend, and school crush, staring at you as you reached the bottom of the stairs. Mouth slightly agape, red creeping up his neck and ears. 

You looked away bashfully before looking back at him with a slight frown, arms wrapping around your thick waist, “You really think I’m beautiful?” 

It had never crossed your mind in school that Charlie might have ever thought you attractive. You had always assumed he simply didn’t think like that about you, that you were his friend and that was that. Maybe that had been true, and things had changed or it had never been like that at all. 

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, you knew that right?” You shake your head ‘no’ at him. You’re sure you look completely confused, as Charlie steps closer to you, a hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before slipping down to brush against your cheek. 

“Love, I always thought you beautiful, even when we were fifteen. Might have been a bit oblivious, but I knew a pretty girl when I saw one. I still think you’re ridiculously beautiful.” You know he can probably feel how warm your face is from where his hand rests, cupping your cheek. You’d always thought that Charlie wouldn’t be interested, you knew you weren’t necessarily everyone’s cup of tea. You’d spent quite a few of your Hogwarts years being told by prats that big girls weren’t pretty. 

“I thought…I thought you didn’t even…”

“Think of you like that? Blood hell…how could I not? I just…I never said anything. I was going to Romania and you were staying here…didn’t seem like the right time.” Even Charlie’s face is red now, underneath all those freckles hints of red easily came through. 

“And now is?”

“No, but…i’d rather say it now then never get the chance.” You knew what he meant. With the Death Eaters, with all the things that were happening. You could die. Something could happen and neither of you would ever of had this conversation.

“You’re still going back, aren’t you?”

“Its my job.”

“Do I at least get a dance tonight?” You try to force a smile on your face even though the thought of Charlie admitting he’s attracted to you, only to return to Romania makes you feel rather sad. 

He huffs his own sad sort of laugh, before smiling at you, “You’ll always get a dance from me, love.”