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katherinewilliams221b · 7 months

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Our Time To Bloom

Chapter 7: The Serch Bythol

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Summary: Two months after the war, the couple is more distant than ever. Kate accompanies her grandfather on a trip to Ireland, where her past and present will collide in unexpected ways. Charlie stays in Romania with a decision to make: will he follow her and uncover all unsaid things? Romance/Drama /Mystery

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship

7th, July, 1998

Hours later, after dropping off Kate at the station, Charlie perched himself against a wooden fence at the dragon sanctuary. Lost in thought, he observed as Soule, an older Romanian Longhorn, stretched its wings in the air. The dragon flew in circles, pirouetting through the clouds with the bravest birds joining in its dance.

What a coward you have been, mate, not to join in. And what a fool! You wanted to go! You still do... Bernard has both great humour and profound wisdom, maybe he was the right person to talk to. If you want to talk... Simply trying to pronounce Fred’s name out loud makes your throat close up.

Soule walked past the Sun creating his silhouette in the wind for an instant.

A twinge in his knee made him hiss, and suddenly the smell of smoke invaded his nostrils.

‘It’s normal in the sanctuary,’ he reminded himself, but he couldn’t help but find himself on Hogwarts’ ground, lying on the stones and feeling that same smell.

He clung tightly to the fence, unable to move. The image of the man appearing out of the fire, distorted, only his silhouette visible when lit from behind, slipped into his mind without permission. He had hit him in the knee, fortunately, but at that moment, helpless on the ground, he knew the stranger would not miss a second time.

He struggled to steady his breathing and with difficulty set his sights on the mountains in the distance. He imagined waterfalls and rivers, crystal-clear lakes and the reflection of clouds in their waters, paths overlooking the valley, patches of flowering bushes.

He managed to shake off the vision of his near-death by trying to imagine himself flying, soaring through the skies on a dragon. With the wind in his face and breathing clean air, seeing the world disappearing and getting smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller...

“You’re making my dragons nervous...”

A light tap on the shoulder accompanied the voice, which was just enough to make Charlie flinch and turn away from Sonia, bringing his hand to his hip unconsciously reaching for his wand.

“Sorry.” She said with sincerity in her eyes before leaning against the fence.

Charlie brought his hand to his hair, briefly massaging his head and undoing the small ponytail he wore. He leaned back against the wood next to his group leader.

They both stood in silence for a while, just watching the sky. Charlie’s heart started beating normally again, and he was able to take a deep breath. Still, he brought his hand to his opposite arm and started stroking his inner elbow with his thumb.

“Nervous?” Sonia asked without looking at him. “The lists go out the day after tomorrow.” She added at the look she saw out of the corner of her eye.

“A little.”

“The grant is yours, I have no doubt. And Razvan’s too. You are both very capable.” She said with a small smile.

“We’ll see if the folks at Apuseni feel the same way.”

“I’m sure they will.”

Absently, Charlie continued to make circles on his skin.

“Cool tat,” Sonia commented, looking at the pale skin on his arm. “I haven’t seen it on you before.”

“Oh...” He pulled his hand away to reveal the symbol he wore inked in black. “We only got it done last year...”

Sonia raised her eyebrows.

“Kate and I.”

“Damn. That’s bold. I don’t think I could get matching tattoos with a boyfriend. It’s usually contraindicated.” She laughed, coaxing a small smile from Charlie.

“Yeah, well, they’re not permanent. The guy who did it to us can take them off, too.” It dawned on Charlie that this was the first time anyone had noticed the symbol he was wearing, and that no one but Kate knew of its existence. Not even Razvan.

He moved a little closer to her, extending his left arm so she could see better, and began to follow the lines with his pinky.

“It is, in theory, a Celtic symbol made of two Trinity knots flipped to the side and fused together.” He traced the intricate lines from the horizontally pointing tips to the central circle. “The three points of the knots represent the soul: mind, body and spirit, as well as the circle of life. The two knots maintain their individuality, but when intertwined, they create a perfect circle, symbolising the endless unity between two souls.” He recited as he had been told. He focused on the dragons again, less solemn, remembering with a smile the tale they were told when that man was tattooing Kate.

“It’s really just one interpretation, there’s no factual information about it that we know,” he chuckled" but we loved that story so much we adopted it as our own."

When Sonia didn’t comment on it, he kept going,

“It’s called a Serch Bythol. In Celtic Welsh language, serk means Love, and beeth-ohl means everlasting.”

“I wouldn’t have imagined in a million years that you two were corny as hell!” They shared a laugh at her teasing. Charlie was grateful that she took the weight out of his words.

“Oh, come on, be easy on me, boss, I’m opening my heart for you here.” He said half-joking.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They chuckled again, watching as Soule landed on a tree. “I don’t suppose you got it one night completely smashed in some dude’s basemen…”

“No! Of course not!” He laughed.

“Right…”

“No, we…” he tapped it again absent-mindedly, “it was purely for practical reasons, I assure you.”

He stared at the black ink, praying for it to stay black.

“When the other is in danger, it glows red.”

A look of understanding erased the smirk on Sonia’s eyes. She avoided his stare, focusing on the landscape ahead.

“I always wondered how you knew… That you had to leave Romania that day.”

It scared me so much, the way it burned, he thought. I didn’t know where she was until I received her letter. It didn’t have an envelope or a seal. I couldn’t even recognise her handwriting.

He nodded.

A moment of silence passed between them and left Charlie contemplating his future, his plans. Seeing Soule come down from the sky to take a nap by the rocks made him realise he wasn't meant for anything else. This was the life he hoped for in his teens, and the life he wanted to cultivate. If not dragons, what else? But did it need to be in Romania?

These mountains were his dream since he was a child and he was comfortable here, perhaps too much. He wondered if leaving this place, this group of people he could now call friends would feel like a betrayal. To them and himself.

But then he thought of her.

She had worked as hard as him to get into St Mungo’s hospital as a mere apprentice. And she left for him. To follow him here. She got far as a healer in Bucharest’s hospital. And she left for a cause she believed in. She had been offered a position as a herbology teacher once. And she declined for the same reason.

Maybe it was time to return the favour.

Perhaps, after the Apuseni program, if he was chosen to go, it could be the last thing Romania could offer him and that dream he had as a child wasn’t the end of the line but the beginning.

Before the war, they hadn’t discussed much about their plans for a future away from this place, they both had secure positions, a home and they were content with that. He never dared to dream further from that.

Then the war happened, and they were forced to do things they never imagined they could be capable of. And that tranquil life they had shattered along with their possibilities.

Now that it was over, he thought, after everything that they went through, it was time for new dreams.

Kate was in the picture, he used to be sure of it. Now, he hoped.

“Sonia…”

“Hm?” She began putting on her fireproof gloves.

“May I get… some time off?”

The dragon tamer stared at him with an unreadable expression. She seemed to be registering his question as confusion appeared on her face.

“You shouldn’t. Not right before the program starts.”

“After that, it may be too late.” She kept silent and continued to secure her gear. “I think,” he insisted, “I could catch up later, I’m sure. I’m a fast learner. Two weeks tops.”

“Two weeks!”

“Sonia, please. I never take breaks, you know this. I never even quit when all of that happened,” he added, referring to the war. She sighed.

“I know. I just don’t want you to lose this opportunity.”

“I won’t.”

She thought for a moment and then clicked her tongue. “At least stay until the first day.”

“Of course!”

“Hey!”

Both dragonologists turned at the sound of Razvan’s voice, who flew towards them with a frown.

“Am I the only one who works around here or what? We’re supposed to start the scouting in three minutes!”

“Yes,” Sonia added with a nod towards Charlie, “let’s go.”

Muddy and sweaty, Charlie apparated in front of his house after an afternoon in the forest. He took off his boots before entering the cabin and made his way to the bathroom for a warm and much needed shower.

After cleaning himself, he stepped out of the bathtub in time to hear scratches on the other side of the door.

“Just wait a moment, Grimoire!”

Charlie imagined the condescending expression of Kate’s cat as it sat in their bedroom.

He opened the door with a towel around his hips just so the animal would stop the assault at the door.

“When Kate’s not here, you become an insufferable pain in the ass.” He accused, changing into a shirt and tracksuit bottoms. Grimoire mewled, clearly letting him know that the sentiment was mutual.

After satiating both appetites, Charlie left the cabin and, using a ladder, checked the rooftop for any sign of Whiskey.

He found the owl sound asleep in the small wooden house he had built for him. The redhead frowned and checked his watch. It was late.

While climbing down, he reminded himself that it meant nothing that Kate hadn’t sent a letter. She was probably having fun with her grandpa. Right?

“Yes. She arrived safe and sound.” He said to Grimoire as he entered again.

He made his way to the kitchen counters, hoping that the routine of putting a kettle on would calm his nerves. He instantly felt better as soon as the tea touched his lips, but the nervousness of what would he say to her and, most importantly, how would she react to seeing him there, remained.

Stopping the spiralling train of thought, he gasped.

Her birthday!

He used to be more thoughtful than that, he thought, but the stress of the war and going back to tons of work at the reserve had left him with no energy to think about presents.

The incorporation to the Apuseni program, if that ever happened, would leave him no time to search for something appropriate. He only had tomorrow to figure it out.

Against all odds and without warning, Grimoire jumped on the seat next to him and, tentatively, rested his head on Charlie’s thigh.

“I know,” he sighed, scratching behind the cat’s ear, “I miss her too. You’ll be fine here on your own? I guess you must. Razvan will come, you know him, to check on you.”

He paused, sipping his tea.

“I don’t even know where to start with her…”

He would get to… Cobh? But where exactly? And even if he found her, how would he manage to put in order the things he should say?

Eyeing the coffee table, he saw some random papers scattered around. With a flick of the wrist, a quill and inkwell floated towards him as he set the cup down. With a determined breath, he started writing.

My dearest,

I don’t know if I will have the courage to show you this letter. Maybe I’ll burn it after I’m finished, maybe I will hide it until I’m ready, or maybe I will be able to speak my mind to your face. You deserve as much, and so much more.

My heart stings every time I come home at night. I watch the lights on the tower where you hide from me and I feel as a failure for not being able to reach you. You’ve closed your mind, only to me? Do I hurt you so that you’ve kept your thoughts to yourself?

I talk to Razvan sometimes, about you and I, about what happened, about Fred if my voice doesn’t betray me. He listens, he tries, and I’m grateful to have found a little solace in his friendship, but he is not the person I burn to reconnect with again.

I miss my best friend, my companion.

Is it because I remind you of your own brother, Jacob, that you can’t find it in your heart to speak to me?

I hear you cry some nights. I know about your nightmares. Often I hold you, selfishly hoping you will wake and hug me back. I don’t know what haunts your dreams, I can imagine, but it feels strange in my stomach that you can’t trust me how you used to.

I guess I’ve been guilty of that too, but for different reasons. There is no one else I would trust with my life but you, but I’m afraid I’ve become a burden to you. I find it difficult to know where I stand, where the limits are, how I should act around you.

But I’ve learnt today, the hard way, after seeing you part from me for the umpteenth time and after observing the creatures that roam these mountains, that my approach has been completely off.

You are not a dragon. Never have been and never will. They come and go or they don’t, they can fly, spit fire, the most absolute chaos can burst in any second, destroying everything around them. To be on good terms with them again, you need to sit still and wait. Make yourself as little of a threat as possible.

But you, my love, you are a feline, and cats can sense when one is not confident enough to handle them. So they scurry away. A change of attitude it’s what’s needed or you’ll just see their tails as they leave the room.

All of this to say I hope you will forgive me.

Once I told you, as you lay in my arms, I whispered to you it would be only fair to follow where you lead.

And now I intend to keep my promise, because it was one, whether you know it or not.

Although I should have been quicker to say it,

I accept your offer, if you’ll have me, and I’ll reunite with you in Ireland if I manage to find where you are.

If after these weeks you still seek a life away from here without me, at least I’ll know that my last decision regarding you wasn’t a disappointment or one that I’ll regret.

But for all it’s worth, I want to start dreaming with you again.

With all the love I can possibly keep in my heart,

Charlie.

Before folding the letter, and with utmost care, he drew with his quill a Serch Bythol at the end of the page, hoping she would understand the meaning behind it.

His heart felt lighter, somehow, having put into words his intentions and motives and, he realised as he lifted the quill, that he hoped for her to read it. When the envelope was closed, he placed a kiss on it.

With Grimoire’s head resting on his thigh and a steaming cup in hand, he stared out of the window, watching the trees sway with the wind. He took a deep breath and enjoyed for the first time in months a quiet afternoon in solitude.

A/N. A short one but very much needed, if anyone still cares :) It’s hard writing these days

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#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley x ofc #charlie weasley x kate williams #ottb #our time to bloom

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mariacallous · 4 months

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This summer, I traveled to Transylvania, on a Birthright-esque tour for young North Americans of Hungarian heritage. Almost everyone I told about the trip made some sort of Dracula joke. I rolled my eyes, knowing the region was much richer than this. But truth be told, I didn’t have too much yet to counter with.

Here’s the history book version: Transylvania, now part of Romania, belonged to Hungary for more than a thousand years. It’s far larger than I had imagined – at around 100,000 square kilometers, the region is bigger than the whole of present-day Hungary itself, which ceded the region to Romania after WWI. There are currently around one million ethnic Hungarians who still live in Transylvania. The community speaks the language and passionately keeps their customs alive, from music to dance to crafts and, of course, food.

And my version? It was easy to fall in love with Transylvania. From the moment I clambered off the small, tinny plane from Budapest at the small regional airport in Marosvásárhely, I was taken by its beauty. Rows and rows of golden sunflowers, framed by the verdant hills and rugged peaks of the Apuseni Mountains rolled by as we headed for our bed and breakfast. We spent a week learning about the Hungarian community in Romania, hiking, exploring cavernous salt mines and lakes, taking in medieval frescos and wandering cobblestoned streets.

We also ate well — very well.

Growing up, many of our cherished family recipes were very traditionally Hungarian (with a twist, to make them kosher), and the rich goulash, tender chicken paprikash and juicy stuffed cabbage we ate on the trip were familiar. Truth be told, aside from the dizzying assortment of wild blueberry and rosehip jams, I wasn’t really focused on dessert.

That is, until I tried a pastry called somodi kalácsin a tiny village called Torockó. Lightly sweet and yeasted, with a cinnamon swirl, it’s as if cinnamon-raisin bread and babka had a baby. While every meal served by our grandmotherly hosts left us stuffed, I loved the folded bread so much that our guide got the inn to pack us a honey-glazed loaf to go.

Transylvania was home to a sizable Hungarian-Jewish population. In 1910, according to The Museum of the Holocaust in Northern Transylvania, the Jewish population numbered above 64,000. By World War I, Hungary itself had the second largest Jewish population in Europe at almost one million. By this time YIVO’s Encyclopedia of Eastern European Jews notes Jews were “fervently assimilated” to the language and culture (and, rather sadly, looking back now), “passionately identified with Hungarian nationalism.”

Upon my return home to Los Angeles, I made it my mission to find somodi kalács. I knew that Jewish immigrants to the U.S. and Israel popularized other classic pastries from Hungary, such as chimney cakes and monkey bread (aka aranygaluska), and was hopeful I’d succeed.

While I haven’t (yet) found somodi kalácsin my city, I discovered that it’s available at Zingerman’s Bakehouse, the iconic Jewish bakery in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Like me, the Zingerman team tried somodi kalács for the first time in Torockó. The recipe, they found, dates back 400 years, when the village was a flourishing mining town, whose residents could afford the luxury of cinnamon and sugar. It’s typically served for Christmas, Easter and Pentecost, and until the 20th century, Zingerman’s notes, somodi kalács was the customary wedding cake. Theirs is a pretty traditional version. However, like my own great grandmother would do often, they sub the traditional lard for butter when greasing the pans, explained Managing Partner Amy Emberling.

At Zingerman’s, Emberling told me, it’s a beloved special item that they only bake a couple days each year. “Customers order many loaves of it and stock them in their freezer,” she said. And it’s not uncommon for customers to “let us know that they have not seen this since their childhood days in Hungary.”

It’s also not uncommon to see patrons shed happy tears. I may have felt like shedding a couple happy tears myself when she shared their recipe.

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