Calypso

Keywords: Charlie Weasley, songfic, flying, dragons
Spoilers: GoF, FB
Summary: Short, sort of angsy songfic about Charlie Weasley. To the song "Superman" by Five for Fighting
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The song lyrics are owned by Five for Fighting and their record company.
Author's Note: This songfic is written to Five for Fighting's "Superman (It's Not Easy)". Just a short angsty fic I wrote when I was listening to the song. Enjoy!

He looked up, blinking in the hot sun and pushing his flaming red hair away from his face. His forehead was damp from the humid weather, but he was used to it by now. He had been kneeling near a sick young animal, armed with his wand and various healing potions. He now sat back on his heels and watched as the creature took flight. It was beautiful. Golden-red scales glinted in the sun, and he felt an odd sense of desolate seclusion.

He stood up slowly, watching the dragon fly farther and farther away. Flight had always fascinated him. That was one of the reasons he loved dragons so much. The stunning and dangerous animals were graceful fliers, and magnificent to watch in motion against the clear blue backdrop of sky. He had loved to fly once. But now... now he only flew on rare occasion when he visited his family. He could have flown and been rich from it. He could have shown the world just what it meant to play Quidditch. He could have been great, flying through the air...

He hadn't wanted that, and he didn't want it now. He had been a legend at school. Everyone had known him, had admired his talent, he had always had a pretty girlfriend... But for what? Flying? He could do more than fly. No one was interested in that, though. He had dated plenty of times, but it never lasted. Nothing lasts. You can't fly forever.

The dragon was still visible, barely, in the distance; a tiny splash of crimson against the horizon. Was that the way he had been back then? With his red hair and scarlet Quidditch robes, he too was nothing more than a rapidly departing speck, distant from all who stood solidly on the earth. He crossed his arms, his dejected brown eyes fixed on the dragon. A ghost of a frown tugged at his nearly impassive face. Overwhelming loneliness crept over him as he stood with his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. He scolded himself for his depressed spirit. It was my own choice, he reminded himself, to give up Quidditch and work out in the middle of nowhere. He felt a lingering doubt. Maybe he shouldn't have turned down that offer to play for England...

He sighed. He didn't want fame. That was all Quidditch was good for. But then what did he want?

His mind wandered to his family and he knew. They all had it. He didn't.

His parents had each other. Bill had Fleur, a pretty girl that was quite talented in Charms. Percy had Penny, his perfect match. Fred had Angelina; George had Katie... two girls that could match their exuberance. Ron had Hermione, a clever witch Ron had finally gotten the nerve to ask out. Even his little sister had her first boyfriend, Ron's best friend, Harry. They all had someone, and they were all happy.

He had no one. And he was miserable.

He pounded his fist against the palm of his other hand in frustration. He could have had his pick from plenty of girls. But he wanted someone that was there for him. Not because of his flying talent. Not because of his popularity. For him. However, just for him there was no one.

The dragon had been reduced to a mere speck, and still he watched. He recalled the summer after his graduation from school. Everyone expected him to go play for England, to become the next famous name. It had come as an utter shock to everyone when he had come here instead, to an area of seclusion to research his favorite animals. He had been annoyed at their shock. He had always been good with magical creatures; flying wasn't the only thing he did well. They had given him strange looks, and he knew they were silently wondering why he was doing this. He had left quickly. Packed his bags, upped, and left.

He longed to fly again as he watched the speck that was the dragon. He longed for the wind rushing around him, the exhilaration of the height, the vast, unconfined space...

He shook himself. No. Flying is for children. It was silly to long for something like flying. It wasn't meant to be.

He had to squint to see the dragon at all now. He tried to ignore the nagging desire for flight. There was nothing up there for him. He wouldn't be able to find what he was looking for up there. There was no point in wasting time in the sky. His heart and spirit were truly up there, amongst the blue expanse. He couldn't see that. He didn't know that. And so he stayed with his feet planted firmly on the solid surface of the earth

The dragon disappeared completely from view. Charlie gazed in the direction it had gone for a moment longer before turning and walking away.