Fic: Under the Mistletoe
Dec. 8th, 2011 10:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_festTitle: Under the Mistletoe
Author: ???
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Charlie/Draco
Prompt(s): picture prompt featuring a dragon and mistletoe provided by hogwartsvixxxen
Warnings: mild slash (kissing only)
Summary: A playful dragon and some mistletoe bring two people together for a kiss.
Word Count: Approximately 3,900
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and anything recognizable as part of such belongs to JK Rowling and I am not seeking any infringement, merely the use of an overactive imagination that involves her created worlds.
A/N: Many, many thanks to those who prodded the muses along the way as well as the fest organizers for this opportunity.
* * * * * *
“Gypsy, come on!” Charlie shouted, the exasperation clear in his voice. The dragon he was speaking to simply huffed, a blast of hot air quickly condensing in the cold, December air. The look and the emotion rolling off her was one of fun and playfulness, something she had in abundance, apparently. He’d found her in one of her favorite trees just outside the main building and was hoping to get her to move on to somewhere else. “Hanging out here is not where I want to spend my night,” he added with a huff of his own, putting his hands on his hips in a move that he knew was eerily reminiscent of his mother.
This dragon was the reserve’s biggest mystery. Born little more than a year ago, it was small in size, standing not much taller than any of the witches and wizards there and adequate weight in comparison, but still very small in comparison to all known breeds of dragon. It liked to hide up in the branches of trees, curling up its wings much as any bird would. It could also be an effective chameleon, seemingly blend into the background of the forest. Not even its gender could be determined.
Despite hatching with other dragons and spending time with them, the dragon took a liking to the humans at the reserve, be they witch or wizard. That was yet another peculiarity for the beast. Even the dragons that were second generation, ones born to dragons that they, themselves, were born and raised within the confines of the reserve, still had a wildness about them, something that apparently was inherent. They regarded any human with suspicion and cautiousness, if not outright fear and hostility. Not Gypsy, though. As soon as her wings had fully developed, she took to hanging around in the trees near whoever of the staff was nearby. When her fire ability finally developed a few months ago, she quickly learned how to use it not only to set trees on fire, something she quickly stopped doing, but also to drive away the staff when they irritated her . . . and many of the staff irritated her.
The name came about because the dragon never seemed to stay in one spot. It was always a guess as to which area of the reserve she would be found in. None of the other dragons seemed bothered by her. Most let her play with their little ones. A few even seemed to care for her, nudging her into their nest when it was clear she was exhausted and ready to fall asleep. None ever struck out at her in anger or defiance. That was another thing peculiar about her. Dragons were very territorial and, as a rule, did not share anything - not their food, their nesting space or the territory. It was a fairly regular occurrence for the staff to have to stun and separate two dragons because they thought of the other as an intruder, but they’d never had to separate Gypsy from the other dragons like that. She flew about the entire reserve, playing with Chinese Fireballs one minute and later, joining the newly hatched Norwegian Ridgebacks in their attempts to fly, all without interference from the other dragons.
The only consistency that developed over time was a connection to Charlie. It wasn’t anything overt or planned. Charlie’s contact with the dragon was the same as any of the other handlers. He had done his usual shifts watching the various nests of dragon eggs, including the one that Gypsy had been in. He had worked in pairs with the other handlers to watch and keep records. He had done his share of hands-on work with all of the dragons. And yet, it was somehow Charlie that she listened to, that she obeyed when they needed her out of the way to check on the various nests and dragons, that could leave fresh meat for her to have and that could safely check on her without risk of being burned alive. Anyone else who tried it usually found themselves running to escape a burst of flames while swearing quite loudly.
It didn’t take long for the other handlers to start calling Charlie when they spotted Gypsy while they were working. If she was ignored, she usually left them alone. Lately, though, something had brought out a streak of playfulness, the likes of which no one could ever remember hearing a dragon having. At first, it was simple and somewhat harmless – not that anything involving a dragon was truly harmless, but having her hide their brooms in the tree branches and use her roar to rattle the windows of any building they were in were minor nuisances compared to avoiding jetstreams of fire and razor-sharp claws.
Now, however, it was starting to become an irritant to everyone, including Charlie. Somehow, a sprig of mistletoe had shown up in the forest and she’d taken to carrying it around. Even more irritating was that she was placing herself in positions where people, particularly pairs of people had to walk under her and the mistletoe. Thankfully, the mistletoe wasn’t magical – everyone shuddered at the thought of being caught under such thing and forced to kiss whomever they were with – but that hadn’t stopped Gypsy from being insistent on whoever was caught under HER mistletoe to kiss properly. Cliff and Katie had tried to get by with just a polite peck on the cheek and Gypsy followed them through the forest, blocking their path a few times before she was satisfied with their resultant kiss and flew off.
The closest town was mostly Muggle, though a fair number of witches and wizards were interspersed in the community. Decades of work by previous witches and wizards had the town accepting the distant roars, loud claps and other assorted dragon noises as natural phenomena for the mountains that the reserve was situated in – anything from claps of thunder for storms to rock slides and the collapsing of caves from failed mining attempts. It was not uncommon to find any number of people from the reserve in the village at any given time. Some had families there, others just made friends with the locals and had a good time and a few, like Charlie, just visited as a means of escaping the reserve.
“Fine, Gypsy,” Charlie huffed, the exasperation with the dragon clear. “Stay there. I’m done chasing. Don’t cause more problems, please?” Muttering a few curses under his breath, Charlie purposefully strode away, his mind already thinking ahead to his plans of going into town for a drink. He hoped that she would simply grow tired and bed down for the night, though he wasn’t sure how likely that was to happen. Nothing was predictable when it came to dealing with Gypsy. Any of the other dragons, Charlie at least had an equal chance of being right or being wrong with any prediction. Just not with Gypsy and he knew it.
The tavern, ironically called Dragon’s Keep, was located on the edge of town and had become a secondary base of operations for the reserve, acting as the point-of-contact for all visitors, Muggle or magical. It was there that friends and family came to visit and stayed, that all mail and supplies, Muggle and magical, passed through, and that reserve staff used for recreation and relaxation outside the reserve. To the casual observer, it looked like any other place that served alcohol and food for the area. The walls had candle holders interspersed with modern lights, bathing the room in a unique glow bright enough to see, yet dark enough to hide in. The aged wood of the place gave it a comfortable charm, as did the fireplace in the center of the main floor. The bar ran along one wall, booths lining the other three and tables spaced to allow for plenty of room to move. Only those who looked closely and did so for long enough might notice that the candles never lost wax or that the air was perpetually cleared of smoke and other lingering smells.
Charlie paused as he usually did when he entered the Dragon’s Keep, taking several deep breaths. No matter the number, a crowd of people always managed to make Charlie shudder against the slam of feelings that came from walking into the room. His time at Hogwarts could have turned into a nightmare if Professor Griffins hadn’t recognized the development of his empathic abilities and worked with him to gain control starting in his first year. Empathic ability was a rare magical trait, one that could not be linked by family line, magical skill or any other substantial measure. At any given point in time, only a handful of wizards, never witches, were acknowledged as empaths worldwide.
As his abilities developed, so did Charlie’s fondness for animals, magical and Muggle. Their emotions tended to be far simpler in comparison to people. Dragons had proven to be the most complex and it was that puzzle that drew him into working with them. There were still times where he made the wrong judgment based on his empathic abilities, but those were becoming fewer instances over the years. Essentially, Charlie could feel the emotions of others, take them in and analyze them just as anyone watching would use their eyes to assess the nonverbal language a person uses and someone listening would use their ears to hear the words being said. It certainly helped him in his work with the dragons.
Scanning the place while waiting for his beer, Charlie smiled softly at the joyous atmosphere. A tree, decorated lightly with ornaments and a few wrapped presents underneath, was sitting in a corner. A menorah sat in the window nearby, the candles absent, but the blobs of hard wax showing where they had been. Other decorations were also around, altogether creating a place of openness, where all beliefs about this time of year were found and respected.
The holidays were a time for getting together with family, something that had grown important with the recent war, certainly, but Charlie enjoyed his personal solitude in Romania. He loved his family and certainly missed them, but the solitude was just as important to Charlie. Admittedly, a part of him did miss them, but not enough to leave the reserve – at least this year.
A shock of white caught his attention, the contrast between the pure white and the darkness of the room arousing his curiousity. Looking again, he held back the gasp that wanted to escape, now realizing what – or rather, who – the source was.
Draco. Charlie would know that distinctive white hair anywhere. He’d done a fair amount of travelling over Europe since working at the reserve and had never found anyone that came even remotely close to that particular color of hair. The smaller, slightly shorter stature meant it was the younger Malfoy under the cloak. He had only met the young man a few times, but certainly knew the name and the reputation – no one connected to the wizarding world could not know – but Charlie wasn’t one to make judgments based on what other people said.
It took a bit of focus, but the feelings coming off Draco were in complete contrast to the joy and happiness that otherwise filled the tavern. Charlie gasped at the sheer despair and hurt that poked at him like millions of sharp needles. Even his encounters with dragons or during confrontations in the war paled in comparison. Draco didn’t appear to be physically hurt, but emotionally, he was devastated.
Impulsive and reckless were not words anyone would ever associate with Charlie. Calm, level-headed, even carefree were all better descriptions. Yet, if asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell you why he made the sudden decision to befriend Draco, to help the young man get rid of his emotional burden, to see a smile on that beautiful face.
“Hello, Draco,” Charlie quietly said as he slipped into the booth. His empathic sense easily picked up on the wariness and fear that added themselves to the mix radiating out from the other wizard, never mind that it was something clearly seen from his slouched frame, quick glances and sharp gasp of surprise. “What brings you here? Romania is a bit far from home for you.”
Draco answered with a small shrug, both hands now clenched tightly around his glass, a fine tremor showing up as the liquid rippled in the glass. “Just needed to get out of there,” he finally murmured, his eyes fixed at a spot on the table.
Charlie nodded once, then sipped his beer. “I can understand that,” he murmured. “Name’s Charlie, by the way, just in case you couldn’t remember.”
“I remember,” Draco answered softly. “You came with the dragons for the tournament.” His gaze remained focused on the table as he continued. “Surprised you’ll even talk to me. Not many do.”
Charlie let the silence take over. He knew most of his family harbored some form of negative feelings for the Malfoys in general, but not him. The war had complicated things, had forced people into actions that no one wanted and the recovery from that would take more than a few months – maybe more than a few years, even. “Their loss,” he finally murmured, not letting his gaze waver from the downcast one across from him. “Most people are with their family this time of year.”
“Family.” Draco snorted at that, clearly lost in thought as a wave of anguish washed over Charlie hard enough that he choked on the sip of his beer he was taking. “Fat lot of good they are. Mother’s just completely lost. Father’s too busy trying to straighten things out to notice.” Charlie simply raised an eyebrow. “They don’t care.”
Charlie shrugged lightly. “They probably do,” he said quietly, “just doesn’t seem like it.”
Draco snorted at that, glancing briefly at Charlie before returning his gaze to the table. “How would you know?” he sneered. “You have a family that cares. Shouldn’t you be in the land of redheads by now? Sharing presents with your brothers?”
Charlie took a sip of his beer before answering. “Sometimes solitude is good.”
The conversation continued slowly, Charlie getting Draco to talk and by doing so, slowly breaking the stockpile of emotions in the young wizard. Plates of food eased their rumbling stomachs and a fresh round of drinks helped, too. Charlie smiled broadly when Draco stopped looking at the table and that grin only grew when he caught Draco glancing at him. The edge of fear and wariness never quite left, but many others were diminished and a sense of comfort was building up in their place.
As they continued chatting and finishing their drinks, a sudden noise momentarily interrupted everyone and everything. Draco visibly startled and tried to shrink back into his seat, stopped only by Charlie’s hand tightly holding onto his shoulder. “Easy, Draco,” he murmured, his free hand gesturing towards the other people. “It’s okay. Look. No one else is bothered by it.” That was true, as people simply continued to eat and drink, no signs of discomfort and Draco relaxed slightly.
For Charlie, the sudden noise had been all too familiar and, if he was honest with himself, somewhat expected. It was a unique combination of noises – a final whoosh of wings as they tucked themselves against a body, a scraping or clacking of sharp nails against another surface and a noticeable thud indicating the final drop of sizeable weight. The other people would have only heard the loud thud at the end and passed it off as thunder or rockslide, not uncommon for the area. Charlie’s hearing, however, was used to hearing the smaller, quieter sounds as well as the larger, louder ones and easily connected them to the dragons. This particular combination was representative of only one dragon. Gypsy.
Charlie winced at the creak of wood barely audible over the background of the noisy pub. It meant the dragon had found a spot to settle on and from the direction it was coming from, it apparently was the roof of the tavern. “Easy, Draco,” he quietly said again. “It’s fine. The sounds are normal around here.” Draco relaxed slightly as Charlie continued. “It’s just the dragons,” he added offhandedly.
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say as a spike of fear from Draco slammed into Charlie. “What do you mean!?” he squeaked, eyes widening slightly as he looked around.
“Easy,” Charlie said again, this time cupping both hands around Draco’s, letting his thumbs rub small circles as he continued to talk. “What the Muggles think of as thunder or rockslides or cave-ins from the mountains are actually the dragons. Not sure how the belief got started, but it’s worked for years, probably decades.” Charlie shrugged lightly. “It’s only because I’ve worked with them as much as I have that I can identify which dragon is being noisy and in this case, it’s a quirky one named Gypsy who I’d guess, by the noise, has settled on the roof. No problem.”
“No problem?!” Draco parroted back. “A dragon on the roof!?”
Charlie sighed. “Gypsy is . . . “ He paused, letting out an exasperated sigh that matched the indifferent wave of one hand he gave. “She’s unique, even for a dragon,” he finally settled on, “and she likes me. At least, she listens to me. I was trying to get her to move before I came here and eventually gave up.” He shrugged before continuing. “Seems like she decided to come find me.”
With a sheepish grin on his face, Charlie watched as Draco processed this information. “There’s a dragon on the roof.” Charlie nodded. “A live, fire-breathing dragon.” Again, a nod from Charlie. “On the roof.” Another nod. “And that’s okay?!”
“It’s okay for now,” Charlie said. “I’m still more interested in you. Gypsy’ll wait. She always does.”
Draco shook his head in disbelief. “I knew dragons were fiercely tempermental, but still . . .” Charlie smiled, letting go of Draco’s hands and leaning back in his seat.
“Come on,” Charlie said, pulling Draco to his feet. “You’re exhausted and in no condition to go anywhere tonight. My place will be better than any room you’ll find here.”
Draco hesitated, his gaze sharply focused on Charlie. “Are you sure?” he asked, a hint of hesitancy clearly heard. However, Charlie felt the hope and desire that was much stronger.
Charlie smiled and nodded. “I’m sure,” he said, nodding, resting a hand on Draco’s shoulder as he did so. “Come on.” He led Draco to a hidden back door, one that exited right into the forest that included the reserve and walked until the trees hid them from anyone looking out from the windows of the tavern. “You’ll have to hold on,” Charlie added, pulling the young man against him. “Apparition is the fastest way to get to my place.” Draco gulped audibly and closed his eyes, but returned the grip.
Before either of them could move, they were startled by a loud thud and a shaking of the ground, one that had Charlie swearing quietly before glaring at the dragon that had appeared. “Gypsy!” he growled. The dragon just blinked its eyes several times, as if acting innocent. “Well, Draco,” he murmured, “meet Gypsy.” Draco’s gulp is audible and he tightens his grip on Charlie’s waist as the dragon looks at him.
The blast of hot air from her struck with a physical force Draco wasn’t expecting, though Charlie was. He tightened his grip on Draco and held him until the shock faded and his breathing returned to normal. “Whoa!” Draco whispered, looking at the dragon that had landed next to them. Charlie smirked in response. “Uh, hello,” he hesitantly offered as Gypsy stared at him. When neither the dragon nor Charlie moved, Draco spoke again. “Mistletoe?”
Elongating her neck, Gypsy stretched and held the mistletoe over the pair of them. Charlie hissed at feeling the playfulness that rolled off her. “Dammit, Gypsy!” he muttered, closing his eyes. Admittedly, part of him was sorely tempted to hex the dragon, but he already knew from experience that his single spell was effective and there was no way Draco could assist him. A dragon’s skin of scales was magically resistant, meaning that several wizards – at least four – were needed to magically subdue them. Gypsy, even as small as she was, still required the combined spellwork of two wizards and even then, spells hadn’t shown the same effectiveness as they had in other dragons.
“Is there something going on?” Draco asked, looking between Charlie and Gypsy. “Am I missing something?”
“She wants us to kiss,” Charlie finally said, running a hand through his hair out of nervousness. “She’s been . . . playful lately. No idea where the mistletoe came from, but she’s been quite insistent about people kissing.”
“Kiss?!” Draco squeaked, his eyes widening even as a light blush started to form. The change in his emotions was sharp and Charlie felt it as if he was being stabbed. Fear, hope, anger, desire and others came through as a jumbled mess.
Charlie nodded, shooting a dirty look at the dragon looming over them. “Yeah,” he added, closing his own eyes to help reign in his own emotional control, which wasn’t much better. Something about Draco was intriguing him, something he wanted to know more about, but this wasn’t how he wanted it to play out. He risked another peek at Gypsy when he opened his eyes and just knew she wouldn’t settle for something small or chaste.
Without a second thought, Charlie pounced and kissed him, pouring everything into it. One hand found its way into Draco’s hair, enjoying the soft feel as he held on, pressing Draco towards him. His other hand wrapped around, landing at the small of Draco’s back. He felt the initial burst of shock and indecision from Draco, but it quickly evolved into a soft moan that Charlie swallowed and the matching desire. Draco’s own hands fluttered indecisively over Charlie before settling to grab his waist.
The kiss broke with both of them gasping for air and Draco visibly shaking. Charlie recovered first and simply held on to Draco. “Easy, Draco,” he murmured, hearing the other wizard still gasping and feeling the shaking running through him. His emotions were still a scattered mess that Charlie couldn’t make heads or tails out of most of it, but enough was there to know that fear and despair was gone, replaced by the stronger emotions of hope and desire. “Okay?” Charlie asked, his voice deeper.
Draco answered with a kiss of his own, one just as passionate and needy.
Neither wizard took notice of Gypsy backing up before taking off. Nor did the wizards see her and the mistletoe in the trees outside Charlie’s home when they finally arrived by Apparition. There were other things for them to see and to do.
Author: ???
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Charlie/Draco
Prompt(s): picture prompt featuring a dragon and mistletoe provided by hogwartsvixxxen
Warnings: mild slash (kissing only)
Summary: A playful dragon and some mistletoe bring two people together for a kiss.
Word Count: Approximately 3,900
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and anything recognizable as part of such belongs to JK Rowling and I am not seeking any infringement, merely the use of an overactive imagination that involves her created worlds.
A/N: Many, many thanks to those who prodded the muses along the way as well as the fest organizers for this opportunity.
“Gypsy, come on!” Charlie shouted, the exasperation clear in his voice. The dragon he was speaking to simply huffed, a blast of hot air quickly condensing in the cold, December air. The look and the emotion rolling off her was one of fun and playfulness, something she had in abundance, apparently. He’d found her in one of her favorite trees just outside the main building and was hoping to get her to move on to somewhere else. “Hanging out here is not where I want to spend my night,” he added with a huff of his own, putting his hands on his hips in a move that he knew was eerily reminiscent of his mother.
This dragon was the reserve’s biggest mystery. Born little more than a year ago, it was small in size, standing not much taller than any of the witches and wizards there and adequate weight in comparison, but still very small in comparison to all known breeds of dragon. It liked to hide up in the branches of trees, curling up its wings much as any bird would. It could also be an effective chameleon, seemingly blend into the background of the forest. Not even its gender could be determined.
Despite hatching with other dragons and spending time with them, the dragon took a liking to the humans at the reserve, be they witch or wizard. That was yet another peculiarity for the beast. Even the dragons that were second generation, ones born to dragons that they, themselves, were born and raised within the confines of the reserve, still had a wildness about them, something that apparently was inherent. They regarded any human with suspicion and cautiousness, if not outright fear and hostility. Not Gypsy, though. As soon as her wings had fully developed, she took to hanging around in the trees near whoever of the staff was nearby. When her fire ability finally developed a few months ago, she quickly learned how to use it not only to set trees on fire, something she quickly stopped doing, but also to drive away the staff when they irritated her . . . and many of the staff irritated her.
The name came about because the dragon never seemed to stay in one spot. It was always a guess as to which area of the reserve she would be found in. None of the other dragons seemed bothered by her. Most let her play with their little ones. A few even seemed to care for her, nudging her into their nest when it was clear she was exhausted and ready to fall asleep. None ever struck out at her in anger or defiance. That was another thing peculiar about her. Dragons were very territorial and, as a rule, did not share anything - not their food, their nesting space or the territory. It was a fairly regular occurrence for the staff to have to stun and separate two dragons because they thought of the other as an intruder, but they’d never had to separate Gypsy from the other dragons like that. She flew about the entire reserve, playing with Chinese Fireballs one minute and later, joining the newly hatched Norwegian Ridgebacks in their attempts to fly, all without interference from the other dragons.
The only consistency that developed over time was a connection to Charlie. It wasn’t anything overt or planned. Charlie’s contact with the dragon was the same as any of the other handlers. He had done his usual shifts watching the various nests of dragon eggs, including the one that Gypsy had been in. He had worked in pairs with the other handlers to watch and keep records. He had done his share of hands-on work with all of the dragons. And yet, it was somehow Charlie that she listened to, that she obeyed when they needed her out of the way to check on the various nests and dragons, that could leave fresh meat for her to have and that could safely check on her without risk of being burned alive. Anyone else who tried it usually found themselves running to escape a burst of flames while swearing quite loudly.
It didn’t take long for the other handlers to start calling Charlie when they spotted Gypsy while they were working. If she was ignored, she usually left them alone. Lately, though, something had brought out a streak of playfulness, the likes of which no one could ever remember hearing a dragon having. At first, it was simple and somewhat harmless – not that anything involving a dragon was truly harmless, but having her hide their brooms in the tree branches and use her roar to rattle the windows of any building they were in were minor nuisances compared to avoiding jetstreams of fire and razor-sharp claws.
Now, however, it was starting to become an irritant to everyone, including Charlie. Somehow, a sprig of mistletoe had shown up in the forest and she’d taken to carrying it around. Even more irritating was that she was placing herself in positions where people, particularly pairs of people had to walk under her and the mistletoe. Thankfully, the mistletoe wasn’t magical – everyone shuddered at the thought of being caught under such thing and forced to kiss whomever they were with – but that hadn’t stopped Gypsy from being insistent on whoever was caught under HER mistletoe to kiss properly. Cliff and Katie had tried to get by with just a polite peck on the cheek and Gypsy followed them through the forest, blocking their path a few times before she was satisfied with their resultant kiss and flew off.
The closest town was mostly Muggle, though a fair number of witches and wizards were interspersed in the community. Decades of work by previous witches and wizards had the town accepting the distant roars, loud claps and other assorted dragon noises as natural phenomena for the mountains that the reserve was situated in – anything from claps of thunder for storms to rock slides and the collapsing of caves from failed mining attempts. It was not uncommon to find any number of people from the reserve in the village at any given time. Some had families there, others just made friends with the locals and had a good time and a few, like Charlie, just visited as a means of escaping the reserve.
“Fine, Gypsy,” Charlie huffed, the exasperation with the dragon clear. “Stay there. I’m done chasing. Don’t cause more problems, please?” Muttering a few curses under his breath, Charlie purposefully strode away, his mind already thinking ahead to his plans of going into town for a drink. He hoped that she would simply grow tired and bed down for the night, though he wasn’t sure how likely that was to happen. Nothing was predictable when it came to dealing with Gypsy. Any of the other dragons, Charlie at least had an equal chance of being right or being wrong with any prediction. Just not with Gypsy and he knew it.
The tavern, ironically called Dragon’s Keep, was located on the edge of town and had become a secondary base of operations for the reserve, acting as the point-of-contact for all visitors, Muggle or magical. It was there that friends and family came to visit and stayed, that all mail and supplies, Muggle and magical, passed through, and that reserve staff used for recreation and relaxation outside the reserve. To the casual observer, it looked like any other place that served alcohol and food for the area. The walls had candle holders interspersed with modern lights, bathing the room in a unique glow bright enough to see, yet dark enough to hide in. The aged wood of the place gave it a comfortable charm, as did the fireplace in the center of the main floor. The bar ran along one wall, booths lining the other three and tables spaced to allow for plenty of room to move. Only those who looked closely and did so for long enough might notice that the candles never lost wax or that the air was perpetually cleared of smoke and other lingering smells.
Charlie paused as he usually did when he entered the Dragon’s Keep, taking several deep breaths. No matter the number, a crowd of people always managed to make Charlie shudder against the slam of feelings that came from walking into the room. His time at Hogwarts could have turned into a nightmare if Professor Griffins hadn’t recognized the development of his empathic abilities and worked with him to gain control starting in his first year. Empathic ability was a rare magical trait, one that could not be linked by family line, magical skill or any other substantial measure. At any given point in time, only a handful of wizards, never witches, were acknowledged as empaths worldwide.
As his abilities developed, so did Charlie’s fondness for animals, magical and Muggle. Their emotions tended to be far simpler in comparison to people. Dragons had proven to be the most complex and it was that puzzle that drew him into working with them. There were still times where he made the wrong judgment based on his empathic abilities, but those were becoming fewer instances over the years. Essentially, Charlie could feel the emotions of others, take them in and analyze them just as anyone watching would use their eyes to assess the nonverbal language a person uses and someone listening would use their ears to hear the words being said. It certainly helped him in his work with the dragons.
Scanning the place while waiting for his beer, Charlie smiled softly at the joyous atmosphere. A tree, decorated lightly with ornaments and a few wrapped presents underneath, was sitting in a corner. A menorah sat in the window nearby, the candles absent, but the blobs of hard wax showing where they had been. Other decorations were also around, altogether creating a place of openness, where all beliefs about this time of year were found and respected.
The holidays were a time for getting together with family, something that had grown important with the recent war, certainly, but Charlie enjoyed his personal solitude in Romania. He loved his family and certainly missed them, but the solitude was just as important to Charlie. Admittedly, a part of him did miss them, but not enough to leave the reserve – at least this year.
A shock of white caught his attention, the contrast between the pure white and the darkness of the room arousing his curiousity. Looking again, he held back the gasp that wanted to escape, now realizing what – or rather, who – the source was.
Draco. Charlie would know that distinctive white hair anywhere. He’d done a fair amount of travelling over Europe since working at the reserve and had never found anyone that came even remotely close to that particular color of hair. The smaller, slightly shorter stature meant it was the younger Malfoy under the cloak. He had only met the young man a few times, but certainly knew the name and the reputation – no one connected to the wizarding world could not know – but Charlie wasn’t one to make judgments based on what other people said.
It took a bit of focus, but the feelings coming off Draco were in complete contrast to the joy and happiness that otherwise filled the tavern. Charlie gasped at the sheer despair and hurt that poked at him like millions of sharp needles. Even his encounters with dragons or during confrontations in the war paled in comparison. Draco didn’t appear to be physically hurt, but emotionally, he was devastated.
Impulsive and reckless were not words anyone would ever associate with Charlie. Calm, level-headed, even carefree were all better descriptions. Yet, if asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell you why he made the sudden decision to befriend Draco, to help the young man get rid of his emotional burden, to see a smile on that beautiful face.
“Hello, Draco,” Charlie quietly said as he slipped into the booth. His empathic sense easily picked up on the wariness and fear that added themselves to the mix radiating out from the other wizard, never mind that it was something clearly seen from his slouched frame, quick glances and sharp gasp of surprise. “What brings you here? Romania is a bit far from home for you.”
Draco answered with a small shrug, both hands now clenched tightly around his glass, a fine tremor showing up as the liquid rippled in the glass. “Just needed to get out of there,” he finally murmured, his eyes fixed at a spot on the table.
Charlie nodded once, then sipped his beer. “I can understand that,” he murmured. “Name’s Charlie, by the way, just in case you couldn’t remember.”
“I remember,” Draco answered softly. “You came with the dragons for the tournament.” His gaze remained focused on the table as he continued. “Surprised you’ll even talk to me. Not many do.”
Charlie let the silence take over. He knew most of his family harbored some form of negative feelings for the Malfoys in general, but not him. The war had complicated things, had forced people into actions that no one wanted and the recovery from that would take more than a few months – maybe more than a few years, even. “Their loss,” he finally murmured, not letting his gaze waver from the downcast one across from him. “Most people are with their family this time of year.”
“Family.” Draco snorted at that, clearly lost in thought as a wave of anguish washed over Charlie hard enough that he choked on the sip of his beer he was taking. “Fat lot of good they are. Mother’s just completely lost. Father’s too busy trying to straighten things out to notice.” Charlie simply raised an eyebrow. “They don’t care.”
Charlie shrugged lightly. “They probably do,” he said quietly, “just doesn’t seem like it.”
Draco snorted at that, glancing briefly at Charlie before returning his gaze to the table. “How would you know?” he sneered. “You have a family that cares. Shouldn’t you be in the land of redheads by now? Sharing presents with your brothers?”
Charlie took a sip of his beer before answering. “Sometimes solitude is good.”
The conversation continued slowly, Charlie getting Draco to talk and by doing so, slowly breaking the stockpile of emotions in the young wizard. Plates of food eased their rumbling stomachs and a fresh round of drinks helped, too. Charlie smiled broadly when Draco stopped looking at the table and that grin only grew when he caught Draco glancing at him. The edge of fear and wariness never quite left, but many others were diminished and a sense of comfort was building up in their place.
As they continued chatting and finishing their drinks, a sudden noise momentarily interrupted everyone and everything. Draco visibly startled and tried to shrink back into his seat, stopped only by Charlie’s hand tightly holding onto his shoulder. “Easy, Draco,” he murmured, his free hand gesturing towards the other people. “It’s okay. Look. No one else is bothered by it.” That was true, as people simply continued to eat and drink, no signs of discomfort and Draco relaxed slightly.
For Charlie, the sudden noise had been all too familiar and, if he was honest with himself, somewhat expected. It was a unique combination of noises – a final whoosh of wings as they tucked themselves against a body, a scraping or clacking of sharp nails against another surface and a noticeable thud indicating the final drop of sizeable weight. The other people would have only heard the loud thud at the end and passed it off as thunder or rockslide, not uncommon for the area. Charlie’s hearing, however, was used to hearing the smaller, quieter sounds as well as the larger, louder ones and easily connected them to the dragons. This particular combination was representative of only one dragon. Gypsy.
Charlie winced at the creak of wood barely audible over the background of the noisy pub. It meant the dragon had found a spot to settle on and from the direction it was coming from, it apparently was the roof of the tavern. “Easy, Draco,” he quietly said again. “It’s fine. The sounds are normal around here.” Draco relaxed slightly as Charlie continued. “It’s just the dragons,” he added offhandedly.
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say as a spike of fear from Draco slammed into Charlie. “What do you mean!?” he squeaked, eyes widening slightly as he looked around.
“Easy,” Charlie said again, this time cupping both hands around Draco’s, letting his thumbs rub small circles as he continued to talk. “What the Muggles think of as thunder or rockslides or cave-ins from the mountains are actually the dragons. Not sure how the belief got started, but it’s worked for years, probably decades.” Charlie shrugged lightly. “It’s only because I’ve worked with them as much as I have that I can identify which dragon is being noisy and in this case, it’s a quirky one named Gypsy who I’d guess, by the noise, has settled on the roof. No problem.”
“No problem?!” Draco parroted back. “A dragon on the roof!?”
Charlie sighed. “Gypsy is . . . “ He paused, letting out an exasperated sigh that matched the indifferent wave of one hand he gave. “She’s unique, even for a dragon,” he finally settled on, “and she likes me. At least, she listens to me. I was trying to get her to move before I came here and eventually gave up.” He shrugged before continuing. “Seems like she decided to come find me.”
With a sheepish grin on his face, Charlie watched as Draco processed this information. “There’s a dragon on the roof.” Charlie nodded. “A live, fire-breathing dragon.” Again, a nod from Charlie. “On the roof.” Another nod. “And that’s okay?!”
“It’s okay for now,” Charlie said. “I’m still more interested in you. Gypsy’ll wait. She always does.”
Draco shook his head in disbelief. “I knew dragons were fiercely tempermental, but still . . .” Charlie smiled, letting go of Draco’s hands and leaning back in his seat.
“Come on,” Charlie said, pulling Draco to his feet. “You’re exhausted and in no condition to go anywhere tonight. My place will be better than any room you’ll find here.”
Draco hesitated, his gaze sharply focused on Charlie. “Are you sure?” he asked, a hint of hesitancy clearly heard. However, Charlie felt the hope and desire that was much stronger.
Charlie smiled and nodded. “I’m sure,” he said, nodding, resting a hand on Draco’s shoulder as he did so. “Come on.” He led Draco to a hidden back door, one that exited right into the forest that included the reserve and walked until the trees hid them from anyone looking out from the windows of the tavern. “You’ll have to hold on,” Charlie added, pulling the young man against him. “Apparition is the fastest way to get to my place.” Draco gulped audibly and closed his eyes, but returned the grip.
Before either of them could move, they were startled by a loud thud and a shaking of the ground, one that had Charlie swearing quietly before glaring at the dragon that had appeared. “Gypsy!” he growled. The dragon just blinked its eyes several times, as if acting innocent. “Well, Draco,” he murmured, “meet Gypsy.” Draco’s gulp is audible and he tightens his grip on Charlie’s waist as the dragon looks at him.
The blast of hot air from her struck with a physical force Draco wasn’t expecting, though Charlie was. He tightened his grip on Draco and held him until the shock faded and his breathing returned to normal. “Whoa!” Draco whispered, looking at the dragon that had landed next to them. Charlie smirked in response. “Uh, hello,” he hesitantly offered as Gypsy stared at him. When neither the dragon nor Charlie moved, Draco spoke again. “Mistletoe?”
Elongating her neck, Gypsy stretched and held the mistletoe over the pair of them. Charlie hissed at feeling the playfulness that rolled off her. “Dammit, Gypsy!” he muttered, closing his eyes. Admittedly, part of him was sorely tempted to hex the dragon, but he already knew from experience that his single spell was effective and there was no way Draco could assist him. A dragon’s skin of scales was magically resistant, meaning that several wizards – at least four – were needed to magically subdue them. Gypsy, even as small as she was, still required the combined spellwork of two wizards and even then, spells hadn’t shown the same effectiveness as they had in other dragons.
“Is there something going on?” Draco asked, looking between Charlie and Gypsy. “Am I missing something?”
“She wants us to kiss,” Charlie finally said, running a hand through his hair out of nervousness. “She’s been . . . playful lately. No idea where the mistletoe came from, but she’s been quite insistent about people kissing.”
“Kiss?!” Draco squeaked, his eyes widening even as a light blush started to form. The change in his emotions was sharp and Charlie felt it as if he was being stabbed. Fear, hope, anger, desire and others came through as a jumbled mess.
Charlie nodded, shooting a dirty look at the dragon looming over them. “Yeah,” he added, closing his own eyes to help reign in his own emotional control, which wasn’t much better. Something about Draco was intriguing him, something he wanted to know more about, but this wasn’t how he wanted it to play out. He risked another peek at Gypsy when he opened his eyes and just knew she wouldn’t settle for something small or chaste.
Without a second thought, Charlie pounced and kissed him, pouring everything into it. One hand found its way into Draco’s hair, enjoying the soft feel as he held on, pressing Draco towards him. His other hand wrapped around, landing at the small of Draco’s back. He felt the initial burst of shock and indecision from Draco, but it quickly evolved into a soft moan that Charlie swallowed and the matching desire. Draco’s own hands fluttered indecisively over Charlie before settling to grab his waist.
The kiss broke with both of them gasping for air and Draco visibly shaking. Charlie recovered first and simply held on to Draco. “Easy, Draco,” he murmured, hearing the other wizard still gasping and feeling the shaking running through him. His emotions were still a scattered mess that Charlie couldn’t make heads or tails out of most of it, but enough was there to know that fear and despair was gone, replaced by the stronger emotions of hope and desire. “Okay?” Charlie asked, his voice deeper.
Draco answered with a kiss of his own, one just as passionate and needy.
Neither wizard took notice of Gypsy backing up before taking off. Nor did the wizards see her and the mistletoe in the trees outside Charlie’s home when they finally arrived by Apparition. There were other things for them to see and to do.
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no subject
Date: 2011-12-08 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 12:03 am (UTC)A matchmaking dragon -- how perfect!!
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Date: 2011-12-09 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 03:42 am (UTC)Playful dragons ftw.
Good work.
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Date: 2011-12-09 12:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 01:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-24 03:53 am (UTC)